Page 22 of The Obsession
For a second, I just stare, my mind refusing to catch up. Then the room tilts, and my breath catches in my throat. Someone’s already taken my way out, and now I’ve got nothing.
My shock is short-lived when I hear the rumble of a bike coming down the street. I already know it’s Mick.
Anger flares hot in my chest. He took my money. He stole from me.
The engine cuts off, and the silence that follows only fuels my rage. I leap to my feet and rush towards the front door, not caring about his reaction.
That is, until he uses his boot to kick the front door right off the hinges.
I stumble back as the shattered piece of wood whips past me, missing by inches. But it isn’t the splintered debris that sends a chill through me; it’s the crazed and furious look in Mick’s eyes as he charges in my direction.
“Mick,” I whisper, retreating another step, but there’s nowhere to go. The main room is too small, too cramped. I’m trapped.
“How dare you embarrass me in front of my brothers like that!” he roars. His arm flashes upwards, and before I can move, his hand cracks across my face. The blow is so hard it knocks me off my feet.
I hit the floor with a dull thud. For a heartbeat, everything freezes. Mick stands over me, his chest heaving. Whenhe lifts his arms again, I flinch and brace for another hit, but it doesn’t come.
Instead, he drops to his knees beside me, pulling me into his arms. “I … I’m sorry, babe,” he stammers as his voice breaks. “Fuck, Emily. I love you. I’m so sorry.”
Now isn’t the time to say it, I know that, but the words slip out anyway. “You took my money.”
“Shh,” he murmurs, running his hand over my hair. “I’ll pay it back.”
My entire body trembles with fear, anger and confusion. I don’t want his hands on me, but I’m too scared to push him away. His touch feels desperate and possessive as his warm breath ghosts against my ear.
“Mick,” I whisper. “Please … just stop.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me; his eyes are red and glassy, full of guilt.
“I said I’m sorry,” he mutters, as if saying it again could erase what just happened.
Sorry isn’t enough.
It will never be enough.
I flinch when he leans in to brush a soft kiss against the corner of my mouth. The side of my face throbs, and I taste the metallic tang of blood on my tongue.
He presses his forehead to mine, whispering empty promises I’ve heard too many times before. I stare past him, hollow, shattered, and numb.
When he stands and lifts me into his arms, carrying me towards the bedroom, I’m too weak—too afraid—to fight him off.
It’s in that moment that I realise I don’t know how to leave him, but I know I have to.
Chapter 9
Emily
Mick was full of remorse when I woke this morning. He even got up early to make me breakfast, like scrambled eggs and burnt toast could erase what happened last night. As if I could forget that he not only hit me, but also stole my entire life savings.
I went along with it, slipping into my usualfake it till you make itbullshit routine. Smiling when he smiled and nodding when he spoke, but inside, I’m completely checked out.
It’s strange how easily you can play the part even when your heart is no longer in it. Sometimes pretending is safer than feeling anything real.
I wince as my hip brushes against the metal handrail beside the bus door on my way down. At least my clothes hide the ugly bruise on my side, but no amount of makeup could cover my split, swollen bottom lip.
Mick was fixing the front door when I left. He offered to drive me in, but I told him I’d catch the bus. I need space. I need to be away from him.
Pulling out my phone, I dial my mum’s number as I head down the street towards La Riviera. There’s no wayI’m telling her what happened last night. I just want to hear her voice, something safe and familiar. Talking to her might make things feel a little less out of control.
