Page 10 of Distorted Obsession (The Distorted Trilogy #1)

eva

“Why can’t we just stay here?” I ask Farrah as we lie on the deck chairs by the pool of my family’s beach house.

We didn’t feel like playing the “how many places will sand magically appear” game, so we opted for chlorinated water instead.

However, with sand being its usual annoying self, I’m sure there will still be sand somewhere on me when I go to shower.

Farrah’s head angles in my direction, her Chopard sunglasses blocking the brightness of the day.

“Alas, the world would suffer a great loss if we were to dwell here,” she quips in a very aristocratic manner while arching her left brow.

Chuckling, I retort, “For the world would be asunder. The Horsemen of the Apocalypse surely would be about, wreaking chaos in honor and in our stead.”

We both burst into laughter at our obvious ridiculousness. Summer is at its end, and it’s back to the stuffy halls of Edgewood Academy, where Samantha ‘nasally nosed’ Davenport, and others like her, thinks she rules the school with an iron fist.

Sighing, I glance up to the sky, soaking up the sun.

“Just two more years, Evie—two more years, and we’re out of here. Then we can do what we always do.”

Smirking, I ask, “And what’s that?”

“Total world domination, of course. How else will our memories flourish long after we’re rosebush food?”

“Your level of dork never ceases to amaze me.”

Farrah reaches for my hand and squeezes it, drawing my attention back to her. Then, she lifts her shades, her demeanor more serious than moments ago.

“We’re still here—together. Her fingers trace over the scars on my inner forearm. The one that symbolizes one of my darkest moments.

I fight not to tug my hand away as shame washes over me like acid, bubbling until I’m nothing… until I feel nothing.

“You never have to hide from me, Evie. We’re sisters—your pain is my pain, your struggles… your seeds of doubt— I’ll carry your burdens until you are strong enough to face them head-on.”

I blink, shaking off the memory.

You’ve got this, Eva Rose.

I try to pump myself up.

But do I really?

Wiping at my eyes, I work to control my breathing. I knew today would be hard. The beginning of classes loomed like a Doomsday clock, ticking louder as time drew nearer.

I just wasn’t prepared for how overwhelming my emotions would be.

Sighing, I put my hair up, pausing to peer at myself in the mirror.

My makeup feels like war paint, shielding the parts of me I never want to be noticed…

covering battle wounds of wars that rage on endlessly, all while showing you survived.

I only wish it could protect the scars unseen…

the ones that anchor you to the bottom of the sea while you desperately claw for the surface.

“Eva, girl, are you coming?” Jade shouts, shaking me from my morose musings.

“Coming,” I exclaim before I take one last look. Then, I spin, grab my backpack off my desk, and stride into the living room.

My suitemates are standing by the front door when I step into view.

“One of these days, you’ll be ready before we are,” Paisley jokes as we exit our suite.

Jade snorts. “Sure, it’ll be the same day you can decide on an outfit in less than two hours.”

Paisley gasps, and we all laugh, easing some of the tension in my shoulders.

Camiel bumps my shoulder. “You good?”

“Just first-day jitters,” I admit. It’s a half-truth, but it’s better than saying, ‘No, I’m living the life that my best friend would’ve if I hadn’t killed her.’ I don’t honestly think that conversation would go very well.

“You have Physics now, right?” Camiel inquires.

Nodding, I reply, “Yup. Then I have Art History.”

“Bet. I have it, too. We can sit together,” Camiel says.

“Me too,” Jade chimes. “So we can be study buddies.”

We continue to talk as we walk down the hallway, making plans and discussing our upcoming game before we exit the building, and the oppressive Texas air smacks us in the face.

“Fuck,” Ayana, one of our volleyball teammates, blurts when she stops beside us. “There is just something about the heat down here that feels different.” She has Art History with me later today, but we all agreed to meet up to walk together.

“Wait, isn’t your family from Ethiopia?” Paisley asks. “I thought since it’s close to the equator, it’s always hot.”

Ayana shakes her head, “Not where my family is from. We actually have pretty temperate weather due to the high altitude.”

Paisley hums her understanding as Jade reminds us that we need to get moving.

We’re halfway down the sidewalk when someone screams my name. Not recognizing the voice, I spin to see who it could be, just as something is splashed in my face. The action catches me off guard, so my mouth is open, and I swallow before I can attempt to spit.

Liquid slides down my forehead, dripping into my eyes, forcing them closed as I gag.

“Murderer,” someone shouts, and my heart rate kicks up.

No… no… no… this can’t be happening.

I try desperately to wipe at my skin, but I’m completely drenched.

“Killer,” another person screams as the revolting scent of blood fills my nostrils. I immediately breathe out to expel what I had accidentally inhaled in my shock.

I freeze, unable to get my brain to send the signals to my feet to move or speak to defend myself.

“Do your friends know the survival rate of being associated with you?”

But what are you defending? You killed her.

“Hey,” Camiel shouts. “What fuck is wrong with you? Is this fucking blood?”

I don’t hear anything after that. My feet finally move, and I take off, refusing to look back as I ignore my name being called and all the people standing around gawking.

When I look up, my hand is on the doorknob of my building, and I swear I see Colter and Cooper, but a sea of students laughing forces me forward.

Absentmindly, I dash up the stairs, entering my suite. Tears stream down my face as I strip out of my clothes, tossing them in the trash. I don’t know what type of blood this is, so I hop in the shower and turn the water to damn near scalding, refusing to leave until every crevice is clean.

“What did you expect, Eva Rose?” I huff, scrubbing my body raw.

“Eva,” Jade calls, but I can’t answer. The pain is roaring, forcing me into silence. How can it be so loud and so quiet at the same time? I only know one way to find my voice again.

I hear Jade bickering with Camiel before the door to my bathroom opens. “Eva, it’s Cammy. We just want to—fuck I don’t know. Asking if you’re okay is a dumb-as-shit question.”

She’s not wrong there.

Sticking my hand out of the shower, I give her a thumbs up.

“Are you sure?” Camiel probes, and I stick it up again. She sighs and says, “Fine, but I’ll be back after class.”

I still don’t speak, but as soon as the door clicks shut, I fall to the floor and sob. I cry until I’m hiccuping, and my throat becomes raw.

How do they know?

I am grateful to the shower for hiding my cowardice, but it’s not enough.

Standing, I turn off the faucet, step out of the shower, and grab my towel. Then, I move on autopilot until I’m in front of my desk.

Yanking it open, I reach into the far back, pulling out the box of mechanical pencils where I keep my razor blade before flopping onto my bed, not caring that I’m still soaking wet.

I roll the towel up and expose my left hip, pausing momentarily to study the healed scars, focusing on the most recent thin, short line that matches with so many others. They almost look the same color as my skin. It’s funny the parts of your body that can regenerate repeatedly.

How I wish like hell the gaping hole inside my chest could heal itself.

My fingers tremble until I feel the cold touch of the razor pierce my skin. The kiss of the cool metal against my hot flesh is euphoric, and I hum, lost in the nothingness… in the void where nothing can touch me.

The weight of everything slips away, and my eyes roll back, allowing the pain of today to bleed away.

I’m free. For just a moment, I can finally breathe. But it doesn’t last. I’m crashing back into reality before I can pump the brakes.

“No,” I growl, furious at how short my escape was.

Why isn’t it ever enough?

My eyes pop open, peering down. There’s barely any blood. I just didn’t go deep enough.

Gripping the razor, I press down harder, slicing through one of my previous cuts. I watch, sucking in as the iron smell engulfs me, and I wait to be swept away.

What are you doing, Evie?

“Fah?” I call her name with the plea of a million lost souls.

“I didn’t fucking die for this,” she hisses.

Her rage slams into me with such force that my breath catches in my throat.

Dropping the blade, I tug at the invisible hands around my neck, desperate for air, until I realize it’s even quieter here. Not even Farrah can get in.

There’s no sound or light, just perfect calm. It’s a place where I can hide from all of my shame and guilt, boxing it away into a doorless and windowless space.

I’m sorry, Fah. I was never the strongest out of the two of us.

Murmurs flit about, threatening to crack the only strands of hope I have left.

“Fucking get someone,” a deep voice exclaims, but it’s too late. I want to laugh, feeling myself float away.

Then I’m gone.