Page 56 of Whispers of Obsession
“Good. Because I have been missing you. Very much. You were always such a good girl for me, Cora. I miss that. I don’t get to see you enough anymore. I think we should change that…”
He rests his hand on my thigh, and suddenly Slater’s words make sense.
His warnings. His behavior.
My heart rate spikes, and fear overtakes me, blurring my vision.
Is Sean the masked man? Does Slater know what his father has been doing to me this whole time? Is that why he’s been sleeping over, and watching me so carefully?
Oh, god.
NowIfeel sick.
I stormout of my stepfather’s office, my heart pounding with frustration and anger. His words echo in my mind, each one like a dagger slicing through my resolve. I mutter something vague about needing to pick Lizzy up for senior night, a flimsy excuse to escape the suffocating atmosphere of his presence.
I’m not trying to be rude, but I also have no interest in finishing the conversation. The tension between us hangs heavy in the air, a silent battle of wills that I have no desire to prolong.
As I step into the cool night air, a sense of relief washes over me. The darkness offers sanctuary, a temporary reprieve from the turmoil raging within. I make my way to the community center, my footsteps quickening with each step.
Lizzy is waiting for me outside, her eyes lighting up with excitement when she sees me. “Oh, you look cute!” she squeals, and I can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. Together, we make our way inside, the sound of music and laughter filling the air.
The community center is alive with energy, the music thumping loudly from the speakers. The dance floor is crowded with bodies swaying to the rhythm, their movements synchronized in a mesmerizing dance of motion and sound. I join Lizzy on the dance floor, the music pulsing through my veins, drowning out the noise of my troubled thoughts.
For a moment, I lose myself in the beat, allowing myself to forget about my problems, if only for a little while. The contraband alcohol that people have snuck in flows freely, the drinks served in brightly colored cups that seem to glow in the dim light of the dance floor. I take a sip, the liquid burning its way down my throat, igniting a warmth in my belly that spreads through my veins like wildfire.
But even as I dance and drink, laughter bubbling up from deep within me, there’s a part of me that can’t shake the feeling of emptiness that gnaws at my insides. I catch myself glancing around the room, searching for a familiar face that isn’t here. Slater should be here with me like he was at the last dance, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of my emotions.
But he’s not, and I can’t help but feel a pang of sadness at his absence.
I miss him more than I can put into words. I wish he were here with me now, his laughter mingling with mine as we lose ourselves in the music and the moment.
But even as I wish for his presence, I know that he’s fighting his own demons, battling against forces that I can’t begin to understand. I just wish he’d let me in. I could help him if he’d just share his pain and confide in me. But that’s not his style.
And so I dance on, the music washing over me like a gentle tide, carrying me away from my troubles, if only for a little while longer.
As the night wears on, the pulsating beat of the music urges me to keep dancing, to lose myself completely in the euphoria ofthe moment. But Lizzy, for the first time ever acting as the voice of reason, insists that it's time to go home. She sees the way I sway unsteadily on my feet, the exhaustion etched into the lines of my face, and she knows that I've had enough.
Reluctantly, I agree to leave, though every fiber of my being protests against the idea of ending the night so soon. But Lizzy is adamant, her concern for my well-being outweighing any desire for a few more hours of freedom.
We stumble out of the community center, the cool night air hitting me like a slap in the face. Lizzy guides me to her car, her steady hand a comforting presence in the darkness. The drive home is a blur of streetlights and empty roads, the silence between us heavy with unspoken words.
Finally, we pull up outside my house, the familiar sight offering a small measure of comfort in the midst of my turmoil. Lizzy turns to me, her eyes filled with concern. “What’s wrong, Cora?” she asks, her voice gentle but insistent.
I shake my head, unable to find the words to express the storm of emotions raging inside me. “It’s nothing,” I mumble, my voice barely above a whisper.
But Lizzy isn't convinced, her brow furrowed with worry. “Are you sure?” she presses, her hand reaching out to touch mine.
I pull away, a sudden surge of frustration bubbling up inside me. “I said it’s nothing,” I snap, my tone sharper than I intended.
Lizzy recoils, hurt flashing across her features. “Okay,” she says, her voice tinged with sadness.
I immediately regret my outburst, but pride keeps me from apologizing. Instead, I mumble a half-hearted excuse about needing to be alone and practically shove myself out of the car before she has a chance to respond.
Inside, the silence of the house envelops me like a suffocating blanket. I head for the bathroom, the harsh fluorescent lightglaring down at me as I scrub away the remnants of my makeup. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over as I think about Slater and the pain he must be feeling.
With trembling fingers, I pull out my phone and compose a message to him, my heart pounding with anticipation as I wait for a response.
“I miss you,” I type, my thumbs hovering over the send button. “I wish you were here with me. I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong. I want to help. I want to make your birthday better.”
