Girl Obsessed: A Dark Romance Page 3

  I went completely still when my sleepy brain finally computed the fact that it was Joshua. Shit. How had he gotten in?

  "You've grown up so nice, hmm?" he whispered roughly and I squeezed my eyes shut when the hand he had on my breast slipped down towards my panties.

  "No." I gripped his wrist and tried to shake my head. "No. Please. Don't do this."

  He shook me off roughly and bit down hard on my ear which made me cry out. Then I felt it. The sharp tip of a knife pressing against my throat and my blood went cold with fear.

  "Not one word, sweet daughter of mine," he drawled sickeningly. "Shut up and lie back and this will be over soon."

  Tears began to form in my eyes and I cursed my existence in that moment. How could one girl be expected to endure so much in such a short space of time? First Noah and now him. He would hurt my Mom and I didn't know what to do.

  "Joshua, please don't do this," I sobbed, going as still as possible when the knife blade pressed a little harder against my skin.

  "Sshh," was his reply as his tongue began the task of licking my neck and moving down to my breasts. "You thought a lock could stop me, Wynnie? You thought that would be enough to keep me out? I've been waiting for this for two fucking years."

  Mom.

  Inwardly, I was screaming, panicking but I still made no move to stop him. He shoved down the front of my t-shirt with one hand and the knife went slack in his other hand for a second as he stared at my breasts.

  "God, these are huge," he breathed out, distracted and while nausea welled within me to have him look at me that way, I made an effort to think of an escape plan.

  I couldn't let him do this. I wouldn't be able to bear it. It would haunt me forever and after what Noah did to me, I wasn't going to let myself become a victim again.

  "Do you like them?" I made myself ask in a whisper and Joshua glanced at my face in surprise before a wide grin appeared on his own.

  "Hell, yes," he answered and licked his lips. "Your mother's so skinny. I've always liked mine with a little more meat."

  I clenched my jaw at that lustful gaze and tried a tight smile.

  "I...I think...I'm kind of starting to like it too," I told him, trying not to sound disgusted. "Can you touch them?"

  His eyes narrowed but he kept on grinning as his hand clamped lewdly over one of my tits.

  "Like this?" he asked me roughly and started to bend his head to them.

  "With both hands, Joshua," I said and forced myself to bring my palms to his shoulders and caress them invitingly. "I’m feeling…kind of horny."

  Joshua exhaled heavily and the knife blade slowly skimmed my skin all the way from my neck to my breasts as I held my breath in fear.

  "I knew you would, Wynnie," he said to my relief as he tossed the knife on the rug a few feet away. "All women want me eventually. And girls like you...such a hot, young thing. It's a shame you don't have anyone fucking this ass every single day."

  Saying that, he grabbed me and forcefully flipped me over while I gasped in shock. Joshua was already dragging down my panties and then his big hands clamped around my fleshy buttocks and he growled softly.

  "Look at this," he said, sounding a little awed. "Fuck those skinny bitches who think they're all that. I'd much rather-"

  I didn't give him a chance to finish that sentence before grabbing the only thing in bed next to me and whipping around to hit him with it as hard as I could. It was the book. His book. The second time something of his had come to my rescue.

  Joshua was stronger and bigger so he wasn't affected much by my blow but it did surprise him enough to release me and I scrambled away from him to go for the knife.

  "Stay the fuck away from me, Joshua!" I yelled, pointing the knife at him. I didn't care about staying quiet anymore. I was done with being treated like this.

  "Mom. Mom!" I shouted desperately while he climbed out of bed and glared at me, his upper body naked and his boxers making his erection so obvious. Fucking animal.

  "Don't move," I warned him when he made as if to step closer, keeping his eyes on the knife as I backed away.

  "You think you can scare me with that, Wynter?" he asked me in a sinister way. "Put the fucking knife down right now and stop this shit."

  "Wynnie?!" My mother appeared in the doorway, her hair messy and eyes wide with bewilderment. "What in the world-?"

  "Mom, you have to call the cops!" I told her frantically, pinning my eyes on Joshua again. "Please just do it. Don't ask questions. He...he tried to rape me, Mom," I cried and willed myself not to break down because then Joshua might get away. "I told you not to fucking move!" I screamed when Joshua started to approach me slowly.

  "Wynnie, please calm down. Give me the knife," my mother said coming towards me as well.

  "No!" I waved the knife at her and she halted, staring at me uncertainly. "Mom, please, please just listen to me. Joshua isn't who he says he is. He'll hurt you. He'll hurt us both. Just trust me and call the police!"

  "Baby, I don't know what's going on with her," Joshua spoke up and gave my mother a confused look. "I heard her yelling in her sleep and I just came to check how she is. Next thing I knew she was waving that knife at me."

  I shook my head in disbelief at the duplicity I was witnessing. What the fuck?

  "Joshua, you son of a bitch," I threw at him in rage and my mother gasped.

  "Wynter!" she scolded me in shock, looking at me like I was the one who was lying about the whole situation.

  So many things happened within the next several seconds that it left me reeling. Joshua lunged for me all of a sudden while I was busy staring at my mother but I was too quick for him and whirled around to warn him off.

  He let out a hiss and cursed loudly when the blade sliced his arm.

  "You little bitch," he spat at me.

  Fury was making me tremble. Suddenly, the injustice of men like him treating girls this way and getting away with it put a stop to all logic and reasoning in my brain. I reacted on instinct, knowing that he wouldn't let me get away this easy, especially when my mother didn't seem to believe me right now.

  When Joshua reached for me a second time, I lifted the knife and jabbed it as hard as I could into his side. I felt the pressure of that assault on my wrist as the blade went through flesh and muscle and felt like retching.

  Blood began to gush out of the spot where I had stabbed him while my mother shrieked.

  "Joshua!"

  He grimaced in pain and stumbled, clutching at the wound.

  "Fuck," he gritted out, breathing hard and fast as he bled on my bedroom floor and Mom rushed to his side.

  "Wynter! What did you do?" she demanded with a loud sob as she supported his big frame when his legs started to give out from under him. "Call an ambulance right now! Joshua? Joshua, oh my god."

  I stared at the scene in front of me with a growing sense of unrealism. I was so scared and in danger and my mother still doubted me but when Joshua got hurt, she leapt to his side without hesitation. That was the moment it dawned on me that I had lost her for good. It didn't even matter whether she believed me or not now.

  "Wynnie, you crazy girl!" she shouted at me as she tried to stop the blood flow while Joshua lay on the floor, moaning a little, his face pale and haggard. "Josh, honey. Hang in there. Please. I'm going to call an ambulance okay. Stay here with him!" That last part, she threw at me before she pushed past me, probably to go get her phone.

  Joshua's eyes promised retribution as he peered at me from his position on the floor while biting hard on his lip.

  "I'll get back at you for this, bitch," he vowed. "I am going to fuck that cunt and that ass of yours until-"

  He stopped speaking when I moved closer to him, those same eyes growing wide as I knelt and wound my fingers around the handle of the knife still stuck in his side.

  His hand shot out to deter me but I twisted the knife anyway, watching as he roared before reaching out to close a grip around my throat. I couldn't breathe but a
part of me was welcoming the oblivion as long as I got to take this piece of shit with me.

  "Wynnie!"

  Mom was back and she rushed over to us again, freeing me from Joshua's hold while he let out another howl as I took the knife with me, causing more blood to gush out.

  "What the hell is wrong with you?!" My mother demanded in rage and disbelief, staring at my blood-covered hand. "Jesus. This is a nightmare." She began to cry and sidled over to her boyfriend. "The ambulance is on its way, baby. I'm so sorry. Please don't die on me."

  I got to my feet slowly, throwing the knife aside and my mother gave me a wary look while she used a blanket she had brought to press over Joshua's wound to stem the blood flow. He was starting to lose consciousness now. Good. I hope he died.

  "The police will come too," she was saying to me in a shaky voice. "Wynnie, I don't know what's going on here but they're going to charge you for this. You're eighteen now. And I know that Joshua would never lay a hand on you. Why did you do this? What made you think he would-?"

  Joshua groaned loudly then and it made her shut up and give him all of her attention. Me? I was already packing my things.

  There was no way I was going to stay in this house with people like them. All this time, I had let him treat me like this because I wanted to protect Mom. But when I finally needed her to at least hear me out, she refused to even admit that Joshua trying to rape me could be a possibility.

  I heard her crying softly and reassuring him as I stuffed my laptop, some books, whatever clothes I could find lying around and the cash I had saved up for months in a bag. I didn't even bother to wash his blood off myself as I dragged on a pair of jeans and a dark t-shirt.

  "Wynter, what do you think you're doing?" my mother asked me in a trembling voice. "Where are you going? You have to stay here until the police come. Wynter!"

  I flipped her the bird as I walked out. It hurt like hell but she deserved it. Men over her own flesh and blood. Is that how it was going to be, Mother? Well, screw you.

  When I heard the sirens in the distance, I strapped the bag tightly to my back and ran off into the night as far away from this place as possible.

  Chapter 4

  Jude

  "Babe?"

  I glanced up absently from my laptop screen and found Jennifer leaning against my office doorway dressed in a silky robe and giving me that come-hither look that would turn any man's head. Except it did nothing for me because my mind was stuck on the story I was writing.

  Or not writing. Because I'd been staring at a blank page for the past twelve minutes and no words came to me. This was a first.

  "What is it?" I asked Jen, my forehead creasing with worry. I had never known a thing such as writer's block in my life and the fear that this may be what I was experiencing flickered through me.

  "Come to bed," Jennifer suggested softly. "You're not writing anything. I mean, I've been standing here for a whole two minutes and you barely touched the keyboard. Maybe try in the morning."

  I blinked at her then. Wow. Usually, my powers of observation were very keen so it was a surprise to learn that I hadn't even realized her presence until now. I knew she was right. I couldn't force myself to fill that page with garbage.

  J. R. Knight didn't write garbage. Not even as a first draft.

  But then the idea of going upstairs, temporarily defeated, didn't sit well with me either. She sounded as though she wanted to engage me with sex and I wasn't interested.

  Strangely, my sex drive was connected to my writing. The more I wrote, the more driven I felt to push forward, in all aspects of life. And when I wrote a scene or chapter that was particularly spectacular, I tended to exhaust Jennifer with my increased libido. Book releases, which were always super successful and left me feeling exhilarated, were the nights my girlfriend sometimes had to plead a headache because she knew what was coming.

  But tonight, I had nothing to give her. Just like with my words, I didn't believe in forcing myself when it came to sex.

  "I'll be right up," I told her, pretending to shut down my laptop and she gave me a smile and disappeared.

  Letting out a rough breath, I pushed back my chair, interlocked my fingers behind my head and looked out the window.

  The moon was bright and full in the night sky and I concentrated on that, trying to derive some sort of inspiration, some idea. Anything. I wasn't tired; my brain was completely alert so why couldn't I focus?

  With another breath, I gave up, reaching for my phone to check my messages. I'd put it on mute for the past couple of hours and my eyebrows went up at all the notifications that had popped up.

  Oh, boy. Maybe Jen was right. Maybe I did need an assistant. Except for Twitter, I didn't post anything personal on any other platform. They were just courtesy accounts created by my agent, Phillipa, because not every one of my readers used Twitter.

  I hated that I couldn't interact personally but the responses were so overwhelming sometimes. At first, after my debut novel sold thousands of copies, I was ecstatic and answered lots of fan mail but then, I couldn't keep up and Phillipa took over. Still, she was finding it hard to keep up as well because I wasn't the only writer she represented and I didn’t want to hire anyone exclusively. Phillipa and I worked well together.

  I had two accounts on Twitter. One was the official J. R. Knight one, the name by which I was known throughout the book world. And the other one was simply @judethenovelist. I had fun posting random shit there and only had twenty or so followers but I enjoyed the anonymity that came with it. The normalcy. The peace of mind. None of my posts were going to go viral just because I had an opinion on something because sometimes, I wanted to state an opinion without being challenged by some troll or retweeted like a thousand times.

  I frowned when I saw there was a message waiting for me in that account. That was weird. Nobody ever messaged me there. I opened my inbox expecting some spammer or one of those chain messages that made me cringe and instead, found a single, mysterious line waiting for me.

  I'm in love with your mind.

  Okay. I checked the profile properly and found a picture of a baby polar bear with the name Wynnie.

  That was it.

  I shook my head at that. A bear named Wynnie who was in love with my mind. How random.

  Deciding to ignore it, I took a picture of the night sky and posted it with the caption.

  Can't find inspiration. #thisneverhappens

  Now if I had posted that on my official account, people would have been coming at me with all kinds of writing advice and commenting with hugs and gifs like it was some huge deal. And tomorrow morning, I probably would have woken up to some tabloid article with the headline: Is this the end of J. R. Knight?

  Then a week later, a couple of YouTubers would have made a video about it with the context of how writers block is faced by even the best of creators and what to do about it.

  It wasn't the content I had a problem with. It was all that attention. Sometimes a guy just wanted to be left alone to post whatever shit he wanted without it being scrutinized with a fine tooth comb.

  A notification sounded at once and I frowned again when I clicked on it.

  @wynnie commented: Maybe you need a new muse.

  I raised an eyebrow at that. Who the hell was this person?

  A second later she had followed me but she herself had no posts or followers and then I got another message which sent a ripple of shock through me.

  J. R. Knight for the world...

  Jude for me.

  I swallowed at the dryness of my throat, then logged out of the app and put my phone away. Shit. I had to delete that account now. Someone had figured out it was me. My name wasn't a secret but J. R. Knight was the one everyone preferred and addressed me by and why would anyone connect that person who had over five million followers to some random guy named Jude who liked to write and held a few sparse opinions?

  People these days couldn't leave hell enough alone. And also, that message w
as creepy as fuck.

  I put it out of my mind as I shut the office door and went up to my bedroom. Jennifer was breathing softly, lying on her side wearing a negligee. I sighed and climbed into bed beside her, closing my eyes and trying not to feel angered by this latest invasion of my privacy.

  Weirdos.

  “An assistant?”

  Ella let out a bout of laughter when I filled her in on what I needed to accomplish the next morning.

  I drank some coffee and waited for her to get over her amusement before adding, “I happen to agree with Jennifer.”

  My best friend let out a snort. “Of course you do,” she said and rolled her eyes. “Sooner or later she manages to manipulate you into doing things her way.”

  I frowned at that thoughtfully, wondering if it was true. It never felt as though Jennifer was manipulating me but then maybe that was how manipulative people wanted you to feel to throw you off track.

  I shook my head slightly to clear it and turned to pour myself another cup of some good, strong brew. I was a little out of sorts today after facing my first real writer’s block last night and also getting my first real stalker. A sigh escaped me and I looked gloomily out the kitchen window of my suburban home, hating the clouds that were gathering outside and messing with my mood even more. Maybe I should have slept in today. Mornings were not my thing.

  “Jude?”

  Ella’s voice drifted over to me, sounding concerned and I closed my eyes, not sure what to tell her. Lately, there was this general sense of dissatisfaction in my life and it seemed to be contaminating everything, even my interactions with my closest friend. Ella and I had met each other in law school and formed an instant bond over world views and philosophies. She was one of the top lawyers in Georgia with a very busy schedule and was dating someone casually but she never failed to make time for me or to care about me when she sensed something wasn’t quite right.

  “I had writer’s block last night,” I confessed in order to deter her from the real issue of my depression.