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Twisted ObsessionTwisted Obsession
autor: Webfic

Chapter 9

Javin clearly didn’t expect me to get violent and took my punch square on the nose, blood spurting out instantly. He was stunned for a moment. Then, like a man possessed, he lunged at me, and we started to wrestle. Five years in prison had left me weak, and soon I was at a disadvantage. Javin’s face twisted into a vicious grin as his fists rained down on me relentlessly. "Weren’t you acting tough? How dare you hit me? Seems like prison wasn’t enough for you! With a son like you, your mother doesn’t deserve to live. The sooner she dies, the better!" I curled up on the floor as my body felt like it was breaking apart, every inch of me in agony. But when Javin cursed Mom, a dark rage bubbled up inside me. I don’t know where the strength came from, but I staggered back to my feet and smashed the glass window in the hospital room with a punch. Grabbing a shard, I ignored the blood streaming from my hand and drove the sharp piece of glass into Javin’s arm without hesitation. "Shut your mouth!" Javin’s face contorted in pain as he clutched his bleeding arm with disbelief in his eyes. "Kaelan, are you insane? How dare you?" Although blood dripped from my palm, I couldn’t feel the pain. I stepped toward him and warned, "You can insult me and humiliate me all you want. But don't you ever touch my mom!" Real fear crossed Javin’s eyes as he stumbled backward. Yet, he still stubbornly raised his chin. "Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell Sharon? If you lay another finger on me—" Before he could finish, I threw another punch at his face, knocking him down. I climbed on top of him, one hand gripping the glass shard, the other pounding into him over and over. Maybe it was fear of what I might do in a fit of rage, but Javin stopped struggling. He simply lay beneath me, groaning in pain. I stood up and spat, "Javin, you can try provoking me again if you’re not afraid to die. Next time, I won’t guarantee where my fists will land." With that, I turned and walked away. When I arrived at the corner of the hall, the last of my strength drained from me, and I collapsed against the wall. I let go of the shard in my hand, and I could see the wound was deep, down to the bone. Just then, a doctor came looking for me to sign Mom’s surgery paperwork. When he saw the state I was in, he rushed me to get treated. My vision blurred, but I mustered all the energy I had left to sign the papers. "Don’t let my mom see me. Make sure she’s calm for the surgery," I said, before everything went dark. When I opened my eyes again, my throat burned like it was being torn apart. I poured myself a glass of water, and the pain eased slightly. At that moment, a nurse came in to check on the room, her expression wary. "Go pay the bill," she said curtly before hurrying away like I was some kind of threat. I had long grown used to the odd looks people gave me, so it didn’t bother me much. My head was still shaved from prison, so everyone knew what I’d been through. But the hospital staff had been more courteous before. Perhaps the scuffle with Javin had made them see me as a problem now. I pulled out my phone to pay the bill, but the moment I saw the screen, a chill ran down my spine. It all made sense why the nurse had looked at me the way she did. The headlines were all over social media. #MurdererReleasedFromPrison. #KaelanCausedWesley’sDeath. #MurderersDon’tDeserveToLive. I shut my eyes in pain. I knew exactly who was behind this. I had barely finished dealing with Wesley’s doppelgänger, and Sharon had already launched her revenge. I had no interest in defending myself anymore. Anyone with half a brain could see Sharon had used every trick in the book to get me locked up for five years, and the reason she hadn’t succeeded in pinning Wesley’s death on me was because I had nothing to do with it. The most she could do was use the note Wesley left to turn public opinion against me, but I wasn’t a criminal. Sharon was blinded by love, and the people watching from the sidelines never cared about the truth. While I had been unconscious, Mom had already started her surgery. I limped over to pay the bill, then waited anxiously outside the operating room, praying silently for a successful outcome. When the light above the operating room finally went out, my heart leaped into my throat. They wheeled Mom back to her room, and the surgery had gone well. A huge weight lifted off my chest. After discussing her post-op care with the doctor, I returned to the hospital room, only to spot a familiar figure at a distance.

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