Page 43 of Distorted Obsession (The Distorted Trilogy #1)

tricia

Slamming the door to my room, I snicker at the scene I watched play out. Eva spiraling is my new favorite pastime.

What we did to Eva today was utterly genius. It was a masterclass on how to mentally leave scars— psychological warfare. I only wish I could’ve witnessed more of her descent. But there’s still time.

“Fucking stuck-up, rich bitch,” I snarl, walking over to stand in front of my dresser. I smirk at the glee painted on my face when I peer into the mirror.

Do I have a valid reason to want to destroy this girl?

No .

Do I care? Newsflash— the answer is also no.

I just don’t like Eva on principle. The fucking whiny bitch who has it all but has the nerve to play victim.

‘Mommy and Daddy love me and give me all the support I need.’— Boohoohoo .

‘Life has never been hard for me, but I still self-harm.’— Woe is me.

The attention-seeking cunt.

Rolling my eyes, I grab my nail file and head for my bean bag chair.

These goddamn rich kids kill me. They have it all at their feet, and they either snort it up their nose or shoot it in their arms, polluting their system while crying about not being loved.

Well, fuck them. I’ve had to claw my way to where I am now—not rich or poor enough— the middle class.

The route to upward mobility is paved with the fear, rage, and frustration of the disgruntled.

Each and every brick of the yellow brick road is cemented in the lost dreams of those who believed if you just work hard enough—“Fucking bootstrap mentality,” I grumble, filing my nail.

The system creates monsters like me. We didn’t start this way—we had dreams. But my dreams destroyed my family. It took and took until there was only me left.

My phone rings, pulling me from the painful thought. I don’t look to see who’s calling. “Hello,” I gruff out.

“Trish.” My blood turns to ice. “Tricia, it’s me, Bobby.” The shaky timbre of my brother’s voice lets me know why he’s calling.

“I don’t have any money,” I spit out, anger and dread fighting for dominance in my soul.

There’s a moment of silence, and I can feel his brain working. He’s trying to figure out how to get my compliance through coaxing. “This will be the last time, Trishy. I promise.”

I snort, closing my eyes to ward off the memory of his endless promise of it being the last time.

“Bobby,” I pause, heaving in a breath. You can do this, Tricia.

You just need to tell him no. “That’s what you said the last five times.

” An errant tear rolls down the side of my left cheek, and I don’t bother stopping it. There’s no use in trying.

“This time, I mean it. They promised to clear all my debts. This is it, baby sis,” Bobby stutters. “They just need you to?—”

“To what, donate a kidney? Sleep with some clients?” I snap, no longer willing to deal with his bullshit coy act. My brother doesn’t give two fucks about me. “I’m no longer for sale for the sake of your addictions, Bobby. I have nothing left to give.”

I hear his erratic breathing across the line. “Well, that’s just too fucking bad for you, you selfish bitch. You owe me.”

“Ahh, there he is. There’s the asshole who killed our family because he couldn’t fucking stop making poor decisions.

He couldn’t walk away from the craps table in some seedy backroom gambling hall,” I snarl.

“Here’s the excuse of a man who got Mom and Dad gutted on our living room floor as they watched me being raped as a warning to pay what you owe. ”

“Oh, cut the pity party, Tricia. You sound like one of your self-righteous rich friends you’re always desperately trying to fit in with,” he barks down the line.

“Where was this outrage when you asked me to get you those pictures of that Pierce bitch and her dead friend?” Something crashes in the background, and I know he’s smashing things.

“So, spare me the faux angelic act. Your soul is as black as mine.”

I see red. I can’t even choke past the animosity squeezing my throat. “How fucking dare you,” I seethe. “How dare you equate what you did and what I asked for.”

“Tricia,” Bobby shouts. It’s almost pained, but that’s bullshit too. He’s changing tactics again, but he doesn’t get to feel remorse. Sighing, he continues, “Just go with them, and then I’ll get the help I need to be a better big brother.”

Well, that’s the biggest crock of shit I’ve heard in years . My mouth opens to tell him that when I lock onto the first part of that statement. Just go with them . The fucking asshole was stalling me, goading me into an argument to keep me preoccupied.

Springing from my seat, I scream, “What did you do, Bobby? Who’s them?”

My feet move before my brain can even give the direction. I scramble to grab my go-bag from my closet, dropping my cell on the floor and ignoring the shriek coming through the speaker. I don’t have time to pretend I’m not hauling ass.

Snatching my keys from the hook by the door, I burst through my front door and take the stairs three at a time, practically jumping down each flight until I’m outside in the dead of night.

I’m feet away from the student parking lot when three sets of headlights beam on my face. Dammit, I won’t make it to my car in time.

“Fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck,” I hiss as I whirl around, trying to figure out another plan.

My eyes land on the jogging trail. I know that leads to more than a few places I can hide until dawn. I know… I know, wood plus night equals death, but a bitch has no other options.

“She’s gonna run,” someone shouts, reminding me I need to haul ass.

With no time left to talk myself out of this shit plan, I take off toward the trees.

“Stop, you stupid bitch!”

Ignoring the enraged shouts, I hook a left on the path and run without looking back.

I drown out their demands for me to stop.

My heart thumps in my chest as my gaze flits about, trying to find the perfect place to veer off.

If I can make it around this bend, I know there’s a hill up ahead that will be the ideal place to lose them.

Without looking, I strain my ears to see if I can hear anything, but I’m only met with the sound of my feet and heavy breathing.

They couldn’t have given up already, could they? I shake my head. “There’s no chance it would be that simp?—”

My words are cut off as I go from standing to hitting the ground with a thud.

“Fuck,” I groan, rolling to my side, slowly pushing to my feet when I’m cracked in my side. This time, when I fall, I don’t move to stand. Instead, I ignore the pain and begin to crawl. I just need to get away from whichever asshole has secretly caught up to me.

“Tsk tsk tsk. And where do you think you’re skulking off to?” The saccharine-sweet, questioning voice is filled with contempt and mockery. Then, two more blows land, one on my side, the other on my back, and I begin to see stars.

A fucking kidney shot.

Clutching my side, I wheeze, blinking up at the figure walking over to where I lie on the ground.

It’s too dark to make out exactly who it is.

But I know they’re tall with a seemingly lean build.

I can’t really tell anything beyond that because they’re wearing a hood, and their face is covered.

However, I do make out the aluminum bat glinting in the moonlight as it scrapes across the ground.

“Where’s that snarky attitude from earlier?” they challenge.

My eyes bulge at that response. “B-B-Bobby?” I ask, praying it’s him because I know I can reason with him to some extent. Shit, if it gets me out of this, I’ll go with whomever he tells me to.

“Like I would ever be that bottom-feeder of a poor excuse for a brother,” they snicker. “But I will say he helped me corner you quite nicely.” Their head tilts to the side, studying me before continuing. “He’ll do anything for some money, won’t he?”

Betrayal stabs me through the heart because he would do anything for money. Tears prick at my eyes, and then a whoosh sounds through the air right before the bat hits my kneecap. Once. Twice. A third and fourth time, shattering the bones. It’s so painful that when my lips part, nothing comes out.

“I bet you didn’t think you’d be here tonight,” they taunt, circling me like a predator does its prey.

Think, Tricia. You need to get the fuck away from this psycho.

“Don’t… please… stop,” I gasp, but they don’t. Three more blows land, this time on my left arm.

Laughing, they reply, “Where’s the fun in that?”

Crack . Another hit lands in my chest, and I know I’m going to die out here.

I’m in too much pain to even scream, but I find my voice. “Why are you doing this?”

“In life, you’re given choices. No matter the situation, there are choices, and each choice has a reaction—cause and effect, if you will,” the crazy fucker states.

Then I watch through dazed eyes as the bat swings down, almost like it’s in slow motion. “And you, Tricia, made the wrong choice and picked on the wrong person, inevitably becoming the cause. And I, dear girl—I am the effect,” they singsong as the bat cracks me in the stomach.

“Pluh-uh-ease,” I scream, but the only response I receive is another hit, this time against my other kneecap. Pain, like I’ve never felt before, shoots through every nerve in my body.

Their laughter mixes with my screams—a cacophony ringing like a melancholic ballad through the crisp autumn air for only the trees to hear.

They say you find peace in death, but I feel no peace. All I feel is anguish, rage, and despair. Life wasn’t ever fucking fair to me.

I’m met with a small reprieve, giving me the courage to look up, only to find bright eyes piercing me where I lay, shocking me to my core.

They’ve taken their mask off, and a look of what can only be described as glee dons their face.

It’s almost an exact replica of the smug look I had earlier tonight.

“It’s y-y-you.” I slur, my words garbled.

“Yes, cunt, it’s me,” they cackle, saluting me. “Say hi to your friend Portia when you reach Hell’s gates.” And with the last of my breath, I realize Portia’s death was never an accident.

Blinking, I gruff out a weak laugh as it all becomes crystal clear. Anyone who messes with Eva Pierce is marked for death .