Obsessed with Me - When she rejected him, he set out to destroy her - book 1 by Eve Rabi Read Free Book Online Page A

tattoo?”
    “Where is it?”
    “Lemmee answer!” Tarago shouts. “Lemmee answer!”
    All eyes are on him. “She had two dots...”
    Oh really?
    “…but you know, over time, with age, everything sags …”
    Oh yeah? Go on …
    “…and they too sagged and now they’re called …nipples.”
    Screams of laughter drowns Sonja Herold’s Umfaan playing in the background.
    “Show us, man!” Jooste yells.
    “Ja, come on, show us!” the other man, called Vermeulen yells.
    Then chanting. “Show us! Show us! Show us!”
    Erika yanks up her top to show off her boobs, but nobody takes notice of her.
    I glare at Tarago. “Are you retarded?”
    His response is to circle a fist in the air and chant. “Retarded! Retarded! Retarded!”
    Of course the sheep join in. “Retarded! Retarded! Retarded!”
    Once again, I get up and storm off.
    This time when I see Charlene, I snap, “Don’t ask me to go back!”
    She raises both palms in a surrendering motion.
    In my room, I pace as I try to simmer down. What a pig. Such a loathsome, despicable, boorish pig. Him and his obnoxious friends. Buffoons. All of them.
    Two years. A quick calculation – seven hundred and thirty days. How do I do this?
    Well, take away two days …that’s seven hundred and twenty eight days. Will I go mental with him and his weirdos?
    Please let him tire of me soon. Please! Please! Please!
    Or please let him die. Of something – anything. Just let him die.
     
    ****
     
    “ Meneer wants you to dance with him,” Charlene says.
    I look out of my window of my bedroom at the party below. Another boozy party with so many drunks. Wasn’t last night enough? How the hell does his liver handle it?
    And, he has so many girls to dance with, why does he want me to dance with him?
    “Tell him that I don’t wanna dance,” I say to Charlene.
    Charlene gives me a sure-you-want-to-say-that-to- Meneer ? look.
    I nod.
    With a small shrug, she leaves.
    From my window, I watch her relay my message.
    She returns a short while later. “ Meneer say you must dance with him or he will throw you in the pool.”
    After the other night, I don’t want to chance that. Fuming, I reluctantly walk out of my room and down to him.
    When he sees me heading towards him, he claps his hands. “Round of applause for our non-smoking, non-drinking, non-swearing, non …everything vyf.”
    Everyone claps.
    “Knock it off, will you?” I hiss.
    The music plays some Afrikaans song.
    “What? All I want is for you to dance to a few oppressors’ songs,” Tarago says. “That’s all.”
    “Mff.” With my lips pressed tightly together, I stand in front of him and reluctantly move a hip slightly to the left. Then I move it slightly to the right.
    Under his watchful eyes and everybody’s watchful eyes, I feel like my feet are encased in cement.
    “That’s not dancing,” Tarago says folding his arms and pouting like a two-year-old.
    “It is dancing,” I argue. “And I’m sorry that I am not dancing like a monkey and going like this…” I put my hands over my head and push at the skies like he does, a crazy look on my face.
    “See, now that’s dancing!” he says. “You got it, vyf.”
    I fold my arms tightly across my chest. “Well, that’s not how I dance, so I refuse to dance like that. You just have to be happy with my style of dancing to this …this oppressor’s music.”
    He looks at me, then shouts out, “Vyf wants black music! Can we put on Ladysmith Black Mambuza or something for vyf?”
    Oh please!
    “We don’t have any,” someone says. “No black music.”
    Satisfied, that I told him off, I slightly shift around and stifle a yawn.
    Suddenly, Tarago picks me up and walks towards the pool.
    “Tarago, stop!” I hiss. “I have a very expensive outfit on. Stop!”
    He continues walking.
    “Tarago, stop this shit! I can’t swim. You know that.”
    He carries on walking.
    “Tarago! I can’t FUCKING SWIM!’
    He walks to the deep end of the pool and just