Obsession Of A Psychopath ☠︎︎

Chapter 4: Relief

Amanda's POV

"....nda"

"Amanda," Hunter's voice sliced through the haze of my thoughts, yanking me back to reality.

Startled, I flinched, feeling the surge of surprise coursing through me like an electric shock.

"Yes," I managed to utter, my voice tinged with a mixture of apprehension and unease.

Hunter's piercing gaze honed in on me, his eyes reflecting a hint of concern. "Your phone keeps ringing. Aren't you going to answer it?" he asked, his observation cutting through the air like a knife.

I stared at my phone lying on the table, its screen incessantly illuminating with my mother's number. Each flash was a reminder of the conversation I dreaded—a conversation stained with disappointment and disapproval.

My heart pounded relentlessly in my chest, threatening to break free from its confines. I couldn't bring myself to answer, I didn't want to answer. I couldn't bring myself to do it because deep down, I already knew what she would say.

Ever since our last conversation, when she urged me to give Brandon a chance, I had deliberately blocked his calls. I was certain he had spilled the beans to my parents.

 "Are you okay?" Hunter asked.

He and I had agreed to work on our assignment that day so we decided to go a local public library to get some work done.

"Uh, yeah, I'm okay. I'm good," I whispered, as if trying to convince myself. With trembling hands, I hastily switched my phone to airplane mode, seeking refuge from the incessant reminders of my impending confrontation.

Hunter's gaze tracked my every movement, silently acknowledging my need for a momentary reprieve from the outside world.

Turning the conversation back to our academic endeavor, he inquired, "Have you finished the part you were working on?"

With a shaky breath, I handed him the papers I had meticulously penned. He leafed through them with a sense of urgency, devouring the words on the page in a swift yet purposeful manner. It seemed as though he wasn't even reading.

"You've made a couple of mistakes in these sections," he stated, his voice carrying a firmness that mirrored the weight of my errors. "You forgot to add citations here, and you mixed up the definition and proposal aim," he pointed out.

As I reclaimed the papers, a wave of frustration and confusion washed over me. My mind felt clouded, a product of a sleepless night and crying.

"I messed up. I've ruined it. Now i have to start all over again. Why am I so useless? This was supposed to be a simple task, but because of me..." I trailed off, my voice barely above a whisper, trembling with self-doubt.

The tears threatened to spill from my eyes, blurring my vision. In a fit of frustration, I began tearing the paper, as if attempting to destroy the evidence of my imperfections.

'what is wrong with me, I messed up '

'i made a mistake, how could I be so careless '

"Amanda," Hunter called, his grip on my hand halting the destruction of the paper.

His touch conveyed a steadfast support that I desperately needed in that moment.