by Alex Carver
Ben
OBSESSED
ALEX R CARVER
Obsessed
Alex R Carver
Copyright © United Kingdom 2016
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilised in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for author or third party websites or their content.
© 2016 by Alex R Carver and ARC Books
“Are you sure you don’t want Nick to give you a lift home?”
“You must be kidding, the house is only a couple of streets away,” Kirsty told her friend, unnecessarily since they were housemates. “Even if I did want a lift off someone, I sure as hell wouldn’t take one off Nick. Anytime he does me a favour, he thinks he deserves a reward, and he only ever has one reward in mind.”
“You should be glad he’s interested; Nick’s picky about who he sleeps with, and it’s not like it hasn’t been a while for you,” Julia said with a knowing look. “Just because you don’t want to date right now, doesn’t mean you can’t have fun, and you’d have a lot of fun with Nick, trust me. Besides, I sort of hinted that if he made sure you got home alright, you’d make it worth his time.”
“If Nick’s such a stud, why don’t you shag him,” Kirsty suggested.
“I have, that’s how I know he’s a stud,” Julia told her friend. “I can’t shag him tonight, though, I’ve already lined someone else up, and I doubt he’d be happy if I tried to bring someone else into the bed. Not another bloke anyway, he probably wouldn’t mind if it was another woman.”
“No chance, Jules.” Kirsty recognised the look on her friend’s face. “I’m going home, alone. I’ll see you tomorrow, assuming you make it home by then.”
“I’m sure I will, one way or another. Don’t forget to wash to my dress before you return it.” Julia called out as Kirsty walked down the path to the gate.
The walk home only took a quarter of an hour, even at a slow pace; nonetheless, Kirsty was glad of the fresh air. It helped to clear her head, which was a little fuzzy from the alcohol she had had at the party.
Out of habit, her eyes darted all around her as she walked down the street. She didn’t really expect to be attacked, but it was late at night, and she was sensible enough to be cautious. The street was empty but for herself and one other person. The figure, which she could just make out was male, was walking towards her on the same side of the road, which made her very nervous; it was too late by then, but she wished she had taken the lift, even if it would have meant fending off Nick.
Kirsty felt a little better when the dark figure turned down the path to the house next to hers, and disappeared from sight. She realised it must have been her neighbour, whom she had never seen outside, despite living at the house for four months; her housemate, Holly, had told her he was an old pervert who kept to himself and liked looking at the young women who walked past. That news hadn’t made her feel very good about moving in, and didn’t make her feel too good just then, though it wasn’t as bad as the figure being a stranger – better the devil you know, as the saying went.
By the time the figure disappeared, Kirsty was only a short distance from home. She took her purse from her shoulder and rummaged in it for her keys as she covered the remaining few metres and swung the gate open.
Kirsty didn’t see the figure standing in the shadow of the bush that separated the front garden from the pavement. She had no idea he was there until she was grabbed from behind.
After freezing momentarily in fright, she came to her senses and struggled to free herself; she was weaker than the person who had hold of her, that was readily obvious, but she didn’t allow her lack of strength to stop her. She tugged and wrenched at the arm around her in a futile effort to pull it away, and writhed and twisted against the grip that held her against the stomach of her assailant; nothing worked until she managed to hook a foot around the heel of her attacker.
Throwing her weight backwards, she sent them both tumbling to the ground. She landed heavily on top of her assailant and heard the air explode from his lungs, at the same time, she felt his grip loosen; she immediately took advantage of the opportunity afforded her and pulled free so she could scramble away and to her feet.
She had lost her handbag when she was grabbed, having dropped it out of fright, but still had a firm grip on her keys. Without looking she flipped through them, searching blindly for the right one, as she darted for the front door.
“HELP!” she called out loudly as she was tackled before she could go even half a dozen paces.
Hitting the ground heavily, she kicked her heel backwards, eliciting a satisfying grunt of pain when she hit her attacker.
“HELP!” she screamed a second time. Twisting about, she lashed out again with her feet. This time the blow hit her attacker in the stomach, doubling him up. She scrambled to her feet when He let go.
Kirsty was fumbling to get the key in the lock when she was grabbed and slammed into the door. She was slammed into the door a second time immediately after, and was left dizzy and disorientated, with blood running down her face. When she was let go, she fell to the ground, where she hit her head on the concrete of the path.
The last thing she heard, before blackness overcame her and she succumbed to unconsciousness, was a man’s voice, though she couldn’t make out whose voice it was, or what he said.
A bright, white light stabbed into her eyes as Kirsty struggled back to consciousness, making her blink repeatedly. The light didn’t diminish, despite the blinking, and she twisted her head, first one way and then the other, to try and avoid it, which she quickly discovered was impossible so long as her eyes were open.
Even when her eyes became accustomed to the light, and the pain diminished, Kirsty found she couldn’t see much. Indistinct outlines were all that were visible to her, including the indistinct outline of at least one person a few feet from her.
Her vision wasn’t the only one of her senses that was affected; a ringing sound in her ears made it difficult for her to hear. Above the ringing she could dimly hear noises that suggested she was in a vehicle of some sort, and then a voice. “She’s coming round.” It was female and familiar, but her diminished hearing prevented her identifying it.
“Stay down, Miss.” A second voice, this time male, and completely unfamiliar, said when she tried to sit up. A gentle pressure on her shoulder forced her to remain on her back. “You’ve had a bad knock on the head, you might have a concussion.”
“Where am I? How did I get here?” Kirsty wanted to know as she continued to try and make sense of the imperfect images she was seeing.
“It’s alright, Kirsty, it’s Holly, you’re in an ambulance, you were attacked.”
“I remember, someone grabbed me from behind.” Kirsty groaned then. “My head hurts.”
“I’m not surprised, you have a couple of very large bumps on your head, both front and back. Does it hurt anywhere other than your head?” the paramedic asked.
“My throat’s sore,” Kirsty answered, reaching a hand up to touch it. She was stopped by her friend, who caught her hand. “And my face hurts.”
“Well your face is quite badly bruised, as is your throat. I think it would be best if you don’t do or say anything more for the time being, just lay still until we get to the hospital. They’ll want to x-ray you wh
en we get there, and after that the police will want to talk to you.”
“I think I’m going to be…” Before she could finish, Kirsty twisted her head sharply to one side and threw up.
“Thanks, Hon,” Holly said disgustedly. “That was all over my feet.”
“Sorry.” Kirsty apologised in a weak voice as her stomach heaved. After a few moments, the urge to be sick subsided, and she rolled back so she was staring up at the roof of the ambulance.
“This has not been a good night for me.”
Although she could not see her friend clearly, Kirsty could tell from her voice that Holly was not happy.
“First I had to miss out on the party because I was working late, then you woke me up just when I was getting to the good part of my dream about Liam Hemsworth, and now you go and throw up all over my feet. Can this night get any worse?”
“I hope not. I’m sorry, Holly; next time I’m attacked, I’ll ask the guy to hold on while we wait for your dream to finish.”
“There’s no need for that, I’m just grumpy. You know I hate having my sleep disturbed. Why don’t you just lay back and think about all those hunky doctors who are going to be queuing up to look after you when we get to the hospital.”
“Hello, Miss Newsome. I’m Sergeant Leroy, and this is my partner, Constable Habib. The doctor tells me you’re up to
