Page 54 of Whispers of Obsession
“Finally,” I grumble, when I hear the door open. Only, the two people that step into the room certainly aren’t Slater. His Uncle Alan, and his Aunt Heather enter the room. I slump back into my chair.
I hate his aunt, Heather. She is a grade-A cunt. Snobby, uptight, and creepy. Looking just like her brother, but with perma-tanned leathery skin and dark hair that’s thin and wiry. She’s always been a bitch to me, seeming to hate my mom and me for becoming part of this family - clearly because we’re poor and not good enough for her brother and her precious nephew - and especially hating that Slater and I were so close when we were younger. She saw me as a bad influence.
His uncle is…polite enough I guess, but he lets his wife push him around. He’s short, balding, and clueless to what a bitch his wife is. Or is too drunk to notice. He doesn’t have a backbone. No one in the family stands up to her - even Sean. It’s like she’sself-appointed herself the matriarch of the family, but without encompassing any of the responsibilities or good traits that come with that role.
I know Slater hates them too. I heard him telling his dad as much when we were younger. He was always so adamant that he didn’t want them around, and one summer when his aunt invited him to go and stay there with them on his own, he point-blank refused to go.
When Sean threatened to make him, Slater ran away for two days. When we found him, my mom offered to use her holiday to stay home and care for us instead, so that Slater didn’t have to go.
I know we’re all older now, but I can’t imagine Slater’s feelings toward the woman changingthatdrastically. So I can’t fathom why his father would invite them for his birthday dinner.
Heather looks down her nose at me as she takes the seat across from me at the table.
“Cora.” It’s her only greeting to me, before she turns to Sean. “Where is the birthday boy?” she asks, her face lighting up. She has an unhealthy attachment to her nephew. Maybe it’s because she’s never had children of her own.
“Slater!” Sean booms before he can answer Heather, and we all turn to the open doorway where Slater has just appeared.
I frown. He looksawful.
His eyes are glued to his aunt. Everyone stands to greet him, and I can’t help but notice the way his body goes ramrod straight when Heather wraps him up in a hug.
She coos over him, touching his hair and his face, and the entire time, Slater stares at the wall behind her head, completely zoned out. Once Heather steps away, his uncle holds his hand out for Slater to shake. He takes it with trembling fingers and a stony expression.
When my mother steps up to hug him, he flinches slightly - almost unnoticeably - but after a moment in my mom’s embrace, some of his tension eases. But not much. When our eyes meet, it’s like I’m looking into the eyes of a void.
Dark, soulless pain stares back at me. I’m so caught off guard, I step away from him. Pain at my rejection flashes across his face, but he doesn’t say anything. Guilt floods me.
What’s wrong Slater?I try to ask him with my eyes.I know we’re not close like we once were, but things have been getting better between us. I can see you’re hurting, so let me help.
Slater takes his place on my left, across from his dad. Heather reaches over, grabbing his hand, but he snatches it away, and tucks it under the table. His shoulders are so tense, he looks ready to snap, and my heart aches to know what’s bothering him. I have been trying to keep him at arms’ length, but seeing him like this reminds me how much I still care.
The air seems to thicken with tension, wrapping around us like a suffocating fog. Sean’s voice, dripping with false cheer, cuts through the silence like a knife, each word laced with a smirk that sends a chill down my spine.
“Happy birthday, son,” he declares, his tone as icy as his gaze fixes upon Slater. The corners of his lips curl upward, a cruel mockery disguised as paternal affection.
My stomach churns at the sight. How can a man smirk at his own flesh and blood’s discomfort? Is he completely oblivious to the pain he’s inflicting, or does he relish it, reveling in his power over us all like a twisted puppet master?
Except I already know the answer to that, because he’s a total heartless fucking bastard.
The weight of the ensuing silence presses down on me like a heavy stone, suffocating and unyielding. I glance around the room, searching desperately for some semblance of understanding in the faces of those gathered here.
My mother, bless her oblivious soul, remains untouched by the tension that hangs in the air like a storm cloud on the brink of bursting. But Sean...Sean exudes an aura of menace. His very presence casting a shadow over us all.
Alan, lost in a haze of alcohol-induced oblivion, offers no respite from the palpable unease that grips me. Heather’s grin, wide and unnerving, slices through the tension like a razor-sharp blade, her eyes gleaming with a malice I cannot fathom.
And Slater...he’s gone. A ghost, his eyes distant and haunted, lost in a world of his own making. He’s in another world, trapped inside in his mind and losing a battle against his demons.
My hand twitches involuntarily, aching to reach out beneath the table and offer Slater some small measure of comfort. But I hesitate, unsure if my touch will be welcomed or rejected.
So I let my hand fall back into my lap, fingers twisting anxiously as I bite down on my lower lip, unable to tear my gaze away from Slater’s troubled form.
Just as I summon the courage to break the suffocating silence, Slater’s voice pierces through the tension like a clarion call. “I feel sick,” he announces, his words ringing out loud and abrupt, a sharp contrast to the heavy silence that settles over us all.
My heart lurches, startled by the suddenness of his declaration, but Slater does not spare me so much as a glance as he stands abruptly, practically fleeing from the room.
“Oh, the poor boy,” Heather coos, her voice dripping with false sympathy, a sickly sweetness that sets my teeth on edge. “I better go check on him.” But I know, with a sinking certainty, that I cannot let her go after him.
“I’ll do it,” I interject before Sean can protest, my voice firm despite the trembling of my hands. “He is my brother, after all. It’s good for us to bond as siblings again.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, a lie woven with desperation and longing.
