Page 4 of Distorted Obsession (The Distorted Trilogy #1)

eva

“Remember to take all of your meds. They’re already in pill packs and will arrive monthly,” my mother begins.

“Call at least once a week.” She looks down at her watch, checking whatever she has on her list, as she stands, hugs me, and kisses my cheek.

“And your virtual appointment with Dr. Russell is on Thursday morning at ten.” Then she’s out of the way so my father can say his goodbyes.

No one can accuse Dr. Amina Josephine Pierce of being ill-prepared. The woman has lists for her lists. But you don’t become the president of Yale University by being disorganized.

My dad wraps me in his arms, squeezing me until I giggle, just like when I was little. “Deuparth gwaif yw ei ddechrau,” he murmurs into my hair.

Starting the work is two-thirds of it.

He pulls back. “I’ll be out of the country, meeting with investors for the new project.” He peers down at me, his soft brown eyes once again perusing me for any hint that this is a bad idea and that I should take more time.

“Where are you off to this time?” I inquire, trying to refocus his attention.

“New York and California, for this week to solidify the contract for our new acquisition, then I’ll be in Geneva visiting one of the locations while your mother presents at her conference,” he explains.

Smiling, I reply, “Is this the big contract you worked on over the summer? The one you outbid the other potential buyer?”

“The very same,” he grins before striding to my mother.

Both my parents are standing by the door when it opens. A girl about my age and height with platinum blonde hair and bourbon-colored eyes stands in the doorway.

“Jade Mallory, how many times do I need to remind you to knock? Suppose the door pushed in instead of pulling out, you would’ve knocked these poor people out,” a gruff baritone voice chastises.

Unfazed by the man’s sharp tone, Jade strolls inside, her lithe frame moving like she’s on the runway at Paris Fashion Week.

“Don’t mind my dad. He’s a bit extra,” she says as a portly man with matching hair and eyes enters with a woman in a pink summer dress showcasing her slight frame, much like Jade’s.

Jade’s father narrows his gaze on her before facing my parents. “I’m Sylvester Mallory,” he announces before pointing to the woman. “And this is my lovely wife, Bambi.”

“Rhion Pierce, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Dad shakes Mr. Mallory’s hand. “This is my wife, Dr. Amina Pierce,” Dad beams, looking at my mother with so much love.

I’m struck by how wonderful my parents are and how amazing they’ve always been. Yet somehow, I’m like this. Maintaining any semblance of the happy kid they claimed I was is a constant struggle.

Where is that girl, and how do I find my way back to her?

“As in president of Yale, Dr. Amina Pierce?” Mr. Mallory inquires.

My mother’s lips tip up. “The very same.”

“That means you’re Pierce of Pierce Holdings?” Mrs. Mallory gleans.

Nodding, my father confirms, “The very same.”

Leaving them to chat amongst themselves, I face Jade.

“Hi,” she greets me, and I lift my hand, offering a small wave, instantly feeling like a dork.

You can’t even introduce yourself correctly.

“Eva,” I blurt, hoping I haven’t already ruined her first impression of me.

Jade studies me, and I feel like I’ve been tried and found wanting.

“Looks like we’ll be bunking together for the year,” I say, stating the obvious.

“We are,” Jade exclaims. “When I found out I was getting roomed with other volleyball players, I squealed.”

Jade’s cheeks flush red, a blush creeping down the column of her throat and across her chest.

“Sorry,” she rushes out. “I’m just really excited.”

She’s as nervous as I am. Maybe my earlier assessment of her was wrong. “Don’t apologize. I’m a bundle of nerves over here,” I offer, trying to make her feel more at ease.

A knock at the door draws my attention. Two more girls and their parents are standing in the hallway.

“It looks like our suite is full,” Jade leans in to whisper, but I’m too busy observing our roommates.

The girl on my left has to be nearly six feet tall.

Her blue-colored Havana twists hang past her ass hitting her toned copper thighs.

My other suitemate’s curly black hair hangs loosely in a ponytail, contrasting with her emerald eyes and alabaster skin.

Our parents exchange more salutations while we all introduce ourselves. Cameil Watson, or Cammy as she likes to be called, and Paisley Norton are also on the volleyball team.

“Why don’t we head downstairs and let the girls get settled?” my mother suggests, prompting our parents to say their goodbyes and smush us with their hugs. Then the door clicks shut, leaving the four of us staring at each other.

“There’s a party tonight, and we all should go,” Jade exclaims, bursting through our suite door.

It’s the last night before move-in day for the rest of the students and the last thing I want to do is go out. The last two weeks have been both helpful and overwhelming between volleyball practice and new student orientation.

“Don’t you make that face, Eva Rose,” Jade orders. “We’ve been practicing for two weeks without one ounce of anything fun to do besides the first student activities we’ve been doing throughout orientation.”

“And what look is that?” I challenge.

Jade crosses her arms, plopping down on my bed as Cammy and Paisley exit their rooms.

“I’m sure it’s the ‘I don’t like to have a good time’ expression you always plaster on the minute any of us suggest we try to unwind,” Paisley quips.

“Yup, ‘ the look ’ is in rare form tonight,” Cammy adds.

Rolling my eyes, I retort, “No, the three of you are in rare form. I am my typical self.”

“That’s the problem,” Jade huffs. “It’s like you’re punishing yourself or something.”

If only they knew.

Would they still want to be friends with a murderer?

“Earth to Eva.” I blink, my eyes flitting around my room, seeing concerned looks on their faces.

How long did I space out for?

“Sorry,” I begin, trying to think of an excuse. It’s not the first time I’ve completely zoned out on them.

Inhaling, my shoulders slump when I realize I don’t have a great lie ready, at least not one they will believe. “I told you I had a lot on my mind.”

Paisley hops up, grabs my hand, pulls me from my bed, and drags me toward my bathroom. “All the more reason you need out. What better way to silence the endless loop than a party? The music will drown out your intrusive thoughts.”

Arching my brow, I reply, “Or give me a headache because they get louder, refusing to be ignored.”

“Someone’s a tad melodramatic,” Jade teases as she stops and stands beside me. Then she picks up my plum-shade lipstick and flashes her smile. “Mind if I borrow this?”

I pull my curly black hair from its messy bun, allowing it to cascade down my back before I respond. “If I let you, will you leave me be?” I inquire, and they all snort.

“A snowball has a better chance in Hell than you worming your way out of going to this party,” Cammy retorts, strolling into the bathroom holding my thin-strapped, khaki-colored dress with cutout sides. “You’ll wear this.”

Spinning, I snatch the dress from her hands and storm toward the shower. I turn on the faucet, ignoring their gloating, and undress while I wait for the water to be scalding before stepping inside.

My mind begins to wander, the same images assaulting me.

Farrah laughing so hard that soda flies out of her nose.

We were people-watching at the diner in town when Wes waltzed in, deliberately letting the door smack his shadow in the face. Samantha’s nasally voice is one of the many reasons I don’t miss Edgewood.

Farrah screaming at the top of her lungs, cheering me on at my first volleyball game in high school.

I made the varsity starting lineup as a ninth grader. I was so nervous that I dug my nails into my arms until they bled.

A crater-sized ball forms in my throat, restricting my ability to breathe. But instead of fighting for precious air, I sink into the silence of my mind. It’s always the quietest when I’m closer to death.

“Hey. Time to go,” Jade’s voice booms, shocking me from my sliver of peace. “Long showers also won’t get you off the hook.”

Sighing, I turn off the shower and wring out the excess water from my hair before I grab a towel to wrap it up.

I wait until the door closes, listening and peeking out to make sure I’m truly alone. Shame fills me with the realization of why I haven’t been completely naked in front of anyone.

My shoulders sag in relief as I peer down at thin, darkened lines along my pubic bone before feeling for the ones hidden under the curve of my breasts.

Sliding my feet into my slippers, I walk toward the door, clicking the lock closed before standing in front of the mirror.

“Are you almost ready, or do I need to send in search and rescue?” Cammy jokes as she raps on the door.

“Yeah. I’ll be out in like fifteen minutes,” I reply, scooping up some of my Tahitian vanilla body butter to slather on my skin. Then, I reach for my foundation and meticulously cover each cut, blending it to match my reddish-brown complexion.

I’m nearly done when I glimpse the only line not hidden. It’s a little over five inches long, beginning at my hip and extending halfway across my pelvis.

Dabbing my beauty blender into my foundation, I quickly cover the mark on my hip bone, pushing away the memory of what caused my drastic need for escape. Each scar covered erects a wall around the pain, allowing my mask to fall into place.

“Eva Rose?” Jade calls, the undertone of worry evident in her tone.

I apply the last touch, my armor fully in place, before answering her. “Just putting on my makeup, and then we can get out of here.” I infuse excitement in my response, hoping it’ll manifest.

Fuck! I really am melodramatic.

I pull my dress over my head, checking the revealing areas to ensure they don’t need any further cover-up. Satisfied, I settle on a tinted gloss and decide to keep my diamond studs in before I enter the living room.

“It’s about time, prima donna,” Cammy jokes, and I manage a genuine smile.

Bumping her shoulder, I retort, “You can’t rush beauty.”

She snickers as we head for our suite door. I’m preparing to step into the hallway when I remember I’m sans panties, and my grin morphs into a smirk.

Maybe the girls are right… tonight’s the night I forget it all.