All Chapters of Love, Obsession, Torture: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

I opened my bleary eyes. Jack’s outline hovering blurrily above me in my line of sight, his voice frantically shouting my name and tapping my cheeks. I forced my eyes wider, diving straight into his blues piercing down at me, realisation of the cause of my current state, gripping me with panic. I scrambled clumsily backwards, breathing heavily as I retreated to the edge of the bed. “Robin, I’m not going to hurt you.” he sighed, his eyes brimming with hurt and pain. “I can’t believe, you’d even think for a second that I’d harm you. You’re my life.” He leaned forward to hold me. I flinched, clambering down from the bed and grabbing my bag. I needed to leave this place. “Where are my clothes?” I demanded, looking straight ahead, ignoring his gaze. “Robin. Please…let’s talk about this.” “Jack, I just need my fucking clothes.” I barked. I had no interest in listening to anything he had to say to me. No explanations could justify him killing my parents. The people I loved most in the w

The days were blurring into each other. It had been week two of lying in bed, mourning the loss of my parents and the murderer. Two weeks without stepping a foot outside, not even to work. Two weeks of isolation and glum. The crushing reality that I couldn’t be with Jack was asphyxiating. Where was I going to find a love this intoxicating? This electrifying? This consuming? Then again, I couldn’t betray my parents any longer. I couldn’t be disloyal to their memories by staying in a relationship with their killer. I couldn’t. Jack had filled Lana in upon her return after seeing me in a grief-stricken state, and barely responsive. She gave me space, not probing for any more information about the matter. She knew the toll their deaths had taken on me: on my self-confidence, on feeling I was undeserving of love, on feeling I was inadequate, insufficient, to say the least. The list could cram into a hefty tome. Lana softly pulled my door open, just enough to peep through the narrow gap,

How did he find me? “Jack, let go of him!” I yelled, shooting him an angry glare and clapping my hand around his arm, trying a futile attempt to stop his fist from smashing into Mr stranger’s lacerated face, which was barely looking anything like him by the way. Jack was a morbid animal. “Next time you fucking touch what belongs to me, you’ll leave without limps.” Jack snarled at poor Stranger, after which he gave him a hefty shove. Everyone cavalierly looked on as Mr stranger crashed to the floor, his lifeless body hardly twitching. My eyes dilated with horror, my mouth gaping open as I fixed my gaze on the battered stranger in sheer hideousness. The man wasn’t moving, yet no one bothered to help. It took me few seconds to become fully aware, I was flung over Jack’s shoulder, moving through a cleaved path as he marched us out of the bar. We had only just made it through the threshold, landing outside the bar when someone screamed, ‘Call 911, he’s not moving.’ Were they all so

“Robin, I’m sorry,” Lana whispered, negotiating the obstacle of the seatbelt and turning towards me in the back seat. I ignored her gaze, letting the whooshing wind lash at my skin as I stuck my neck out the window. It was a welcoming feeling. The ride home was somewhat quiet; Lana’s voice piercing through the soft purr of the engine every so often to apologise, but I wasn’t going to do this in the car with Mike around. As we got home, I stomped off, marching up the stairs and heading to my room. “Come on Robin, I’m awfully sorry for calling Jack. I needed a hand, I thought you were going to do something crazy.” I whipped around, gazing down at her on the landing threshold. On second thoughts, we would do this in Mike’s presence. I descended the stairs, treading right towards her. “You’re sorry? Let me tell you what I’m sorry for! I’m also sorry for not having any dead parents to mourn. I’m sorry for having a perfect boyfriend with no fucked up secrets. I’m sorry your boyfriend i

I’d spent weeks scouting for information on abortion on the internet. Its implications and after care, but I couldn’t successfully go through one without blubbering. My mind always lingering on how I could have prevented this, paid more attention to my body or cared a little more about my health. I’d let myself down. Now, I was tormented with the headache of killing a baby I hadn’t intended on creating. Mike was literally our housemate, giving Lana a hand while assisting us navigate the mess I had plunged everyone into. It was 6 p.m., Lana should’ve been back by now. I made a grab for my phone and huffed in anger at the one hundred missed calls from a familiar number. Won’t he just give up and leave me alone already? Clearly, the fifty calls every day didn’t send the message, he was hoping a hundred would. I ignored the continuous pop up of his messages and quickly shot Lana a text and tossed the phone onto the bed, before slipping into the shower. I changed into my shorts and tank t