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Love Corrupted (Obscene Duet #2)
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Love is a tragedy designed for two.
All his pretty lies disguised the ugly truths.
I’m nothing but a puppet.
His dark twisted game is just getting started.
This is a disturbing love story that has nothing to do with romance.
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24 Hours Earlier.
I cried out, biting my lip to muffle the sound as I landed on the ground.
Leroy screeched to a halt further up ahead. His brake lights went out, and he shot off again, his engine fading as he put distance between us.
Forcing myself to roll onto my stomach, I gritted my teeth as pain shot through the right side of my body. Pushing up onto my knees, I saw blood on my arm and leg from where skin had torn away.
I didn’t think anything was broken, but everything fucking hurt. The cherry on top of this fucking day was that there was no way to tell where I was. All the trees looked the same, as they did in Mason’s backyard. He lived in the middle of nowhere.
Going back the way I just came was the only thing I could think to do. Picking myself up off the ground, I gripped my arm in a self-made sling and began hobbling back up the street.
The sun began to fall from the sky, and I still had no idea where I was. Light rain and bits of hail added to my misery. I didn’t want to ask how my day could get any worse, but seriously—how could it?
My bare feet were numb, bloodied, and dirty. The dress I had on was torn, and doing very little to protect me from the elements.
As the rain started to come down harder, I veered off the road, trying to find some kind of shelter beneath the tall trees. Twigs snapped and prodded at me; mud sank between my toes.
I’m not sure how long I long I walked before I got a reprieve. There was a large log cabin style home sitting by itself, down a steep hill.
There weren’t any cars in the driveway, and all the lights were off. Whether someone lived there or not, I needed a break.
Limping up to the house, I hauled myself up the back stairs and peered through the square block window. After knocking twice and not getting a response or hearing a dog, I tried the door handle. It opened with a tiny click, surprising me.
Staring in, I weighed my options. This was a stranger’s home; they could get hostile if they came back and found me inside. My only other option, though, was to stay in the hail and keep wandering the dark woods.
If nothing else, they had to have a telephone or something I could use. Walking inside the warm house, I pushed the door shut behind me and looked down at the hardwood floor. It was clean; my feet were filthy.
I was in a cozy dining room; a kitchen was to my immediate right. On the opposite end of the room was a long, fancy side-table with pictures on it. Everything else was momentarily forgotten as I walked towards them.
I had perfect eyesight, so I knew I wasn’t seeing things. There was a picture of my father in a silver frame.
Snatching the photo up, I turned it over and studied it. Looking at all the frames on the table, I fumbled to put it down, focusing on the larger one at the back.
Live. Laugh. Love. was engraved into the glass. It was a wedding photograph. I shook my head, not understanding why. Not wanting to believe what was right in front of me. Mason was the groom, and the bride was my sister.
We tell her nothing. We both know she can’t handle the truth.
They weren’t talking about me; they had been talking about Annie.
No one lived here four months ago.
Is this where he spent all his time?
I squeezed the frame so tight the glass cracked, similar to the feeling in my chest. I could have stood there for hours, dripping dirty water onto the immaculate floor.
A car pulling up the gravel drive had me springing into action. I ran out the back door and didn’t stop. Rain mixed with tears, and pain only radiated from my head.
Was it all a sick game? Was I nothing more than a lump sum for him, too?
With so many questions and nowhere to go, I didn’t stop running until I didn’t have a choice.
I ran into the path of a blue sedan and everything turned black.
If someone asked me who I was, I would tell them I didn’t know. I’d tell them my name is Katie, but I no longer felt like myself.
They would give me a look of uncertainty and assume I was crazy. They wouldn’t be too far off the marker. I was either losing my mind, or I never quite had it.
The white noise inside my head was in competition with the voices. One side kept whispering and the other kept twisting the words into indecipherable psycho-babble.
Up until approximately five minutes ago, I was worried I’d never be able to stop it. Then he walked in, and made everything go quiet.