Fatal Obsession: The Death of Us
1.1k Views · Ongoing · Daisy Swift
This was the thirty-third time I caught Vance and my stepsister stark naked in a hotel room.
He smashed a liquor bottle and drove the jagged glass toward his own groin.
Flying shards of glass sliced across my cheek.
He stared at me like I was a totally unreasonable lunatic. "Could you just let me go?"
Watching the blood instantly soak the bedsheets red, I felt a sudden, disorienting wave of blankness.
After all, during our most vicious standoff, I had floored the gas pedal and driven toward a cliff with my stepsister in the passenger seat just to force him to come home. His response? He dragged my mother in front of the car, standing right beside her, and sneered, asking if I still wanted him home.
Vance and I were like two beasts trapped in a colosseum, proving our existence by tearing each other apart. Neither of us would back down. Neither of us would let go.
But now, shielding my stepsister behind him, his eyes held nothing but profound exhaustion. "Don't hurt Lorna. I'm tired. Just let me go."
He was conceding. For my stepsister.
This tragic, belated surrender reduced my last five years of paranoia and obsession into an absolute joke.
My hand had been hidden inside my coat pocket the whole time. Now, my fingertips slowly relaxed their death grip on the crumpled ultrasound slip.
Staring at the blood-soaked bed and the way he protectively shielded her, an overwhelming exhaustion washed over me.
I truly didn't have the strength to play this game with him anymore. It was time to end it.
He smashed a liquor bottle and drove the jagged glass toward his own groin.
Flying shards of glass sliced across my cheek.
He stared at me like I was a totally unreasonable lunatic. "Could you just let me go?"
Watching the blood instantly soak the bedsheets red, I felt a sudden, disorienting wave of blankness.
After all, during our most vicious standoff, I had floored the gas pedal and driven toward a cliff with my stepsister in the passenger seat just to force him to come home. His response? He dragged my mother in front of the car, standing right beside her, and sneered, asking if I still wanted him home.
Vance and I were like two beasts trapped in a colosseum, proving our existence by tearing each other apart. Neither of us would back down. Neither of us would let go.
But now, shielding my stepsister behind him, his eyes held nothing but profound exhaustion. "Don't hurt Lorna. I'm tired. Just let me go."
He was conceding. For my stepsister.
This tragic, belated surrender reduced my last five years of paranoia and obsession into an absolute joke.
My hand had been hidden inside my coat pocket the whole time. Now, my fingertips slowly relaxed their death grip on the crumpled ultrasound slip.
Staring at the blood-soaked bed and the way he protectively shielded her, an overwhelming exhaustion washed over me.
I truly didn't have the strength to play this game with him anymore. It was time to end it.















































