The Charming MCs, Saved By their Obssessive Love

5.Choking on Fear

Trigger warning below: viewer discretion is advised. _________________________________________

My day off.

My nightmare.

I laid on the mattress, refusing to get up. I was exhausted and I wasn't in the mood to clean, cook or be a slave for the day.

It was almost seven and I was dreading their reactions when they finally wake up with no smell of cooking and the house a big mess. I was really tired and the fact that I had a headache was making it worse.

I turned onto my side.

I should really get up. I didn't want another beating from my uncle. But my body was saying no—that I should rest and get my energy up. But then my mind was saying the opposite—that I should get things done just to avoid their wrath.

I exhaled in defeat and finally pushed myself up. I think I could manage to make breakfast and then maybe clean later.

I quickly brushed my teeth and then hurried to the kitchen. One look and I felt my body giving out. Stacks of dirty dishes and the counter was a mess. I slumped against the wall, feeling my eyes burn with unshed tears.

I was tired!

Drained!

Empty!

Maybe I should move out—take my chances on the street. Maybe I could survive out there. I had a little cash and a few pieces of clothes. I could continue working until I can afford to rent an apartment.

Anything was better than living in this hell.

My thoughts were interrupted by footsteps coming towards me. I slipped to the back of the kitchen and wrapped my arms around myself.

I knew what was coming.

I couldn't escape it.

Seconds later, my aunt entered, fully dressed in her Sunday brunch outfit. Her eyes scanned the room, landing on me before flicking to the pile of dishes.

Her brows knitted together, her face slowly twisting into anger.

"Kae," she said, voice sharp, "why isn't the kitchen clean?"

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "I… I was going to—"

"You were going to?" she snapped, cutting me off. "Kae, do you think I have all day to wait around for you to decide if cleaning is important?"

I stepped back instinctively, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. The anger in her eyes made my stomach twist, a familiar knot tightening.

"I… I just needed a minute," I whispered, barely audible.

Her glare didn't soften. Instead, it sharpened, and I could feel the weight of it pressing down on me, making the room feel smaller, suffocating.

"Minute?" she repeated, her voice low and dangerous. "You've had more than enough time. Start cleaning—now."

I nodded quickly, moving towards the sink, forcing my hands to stop shaking as I picked up the first plate. Every clang of ceramic against the counter echoed in the quiet space, and I prayed I wouldn't do anything else to set her off.

"You're so useless," she spat, but I kept my back turned.

"You're lucky that I won't be home today."

I scrubbed at the dishes, my hands trembling despite my best efforts. Every clink of plates seemed to echo her disapproval.

After what felt like an eternity, my aunt let out a sharp exhale and straightened. "Maya, let's go," she said, her tone clipped but controlled.

Maya appeared from the hallway, eyes wide but careful not to meet mine. Together, they left the house, the front door clicking shut behind them. The sudden silence that followed made my chest tighten.

I dared a slow breath, thinking maybe the worst was over.

But then, the faint shuffle of footsteps echoed from the hallway. My heart sank.

My uncle entered a couple of minutes later. He was in his lounge outfit, loose sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt, but his presence was no less intimidating. He leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes scanning me like a predator assessing its prey.

"Kae," he said, voice calm but carrying a weight that made me freeze mid-swipe of the sponge. "Looks like your aunt's in a hurry today."

I nodded quickly, not trusting my voice.

He pushed off the frame and stepped closer, the quiet click of his slippers against the tile making every nerve in my body jump. "Don't worry," he added, a faint smirk tugging at his lips,"I'm in a very good mood today."

I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the counter like it could anchor me to sanity. He chuckled low, a sound that crawled under my skin, and kept staring, unblinking.

I moved quickly, almost on autopilot, wiping the counters with trembling hands. Every scrape of the rag sounded like a shout in the silent kitchen. I cracked the eggs into the pan, my fingers slick, and the sizzle hissed like it was mocking me. The toast popped up behind me, and I jumped, heart hammering.

His presence pressed against my back even though he didn't move. I could feel it—like a shadow that was alive, waiting, and I couldn't escape it. It felt like I was choking on fear.

I quickly shared his food and set it on the table. I poured him his tea and was about to leave when he stopped me.

"Where are you going?" He asked, taking a seat around the table.

"T-To the living room," I muttered out.

He didn't answer and I took that as my cue and left the kitchen. I dusted the couches and then swept the floors. After finishing up, I went to my room and headed straight for the bathroom.

I stripped and stepped into the shower, letting the cold water hit my skin. I scrubbed quickly, not caring about anything but finishing. Two minutes felt like an eternity, but it was enough.

I stepped out, dried off, and pulled an oversized sweater from the dirty laundry basket, holding it to my chest like a shield.

Then I froze.

My feet wouldn't move.

My uncle.

In my room.

He didn't move, didn't speak—just leaned against the doorframe, watching me. The dim light from the hallway cut across his face, highlighting the shadow in his eyes.

I tried to take a step back, and my foot hit the edge of the rug. The sound echoed in the quiet room like a gunshot. He shifted slightly, and I could feel the air around me tighten, suffocating.

I squeezed the sweater tighter to my chest and whispered a prayer I wasn't sure he could hear—or maybe he did, and it made him smile.

My body wanted to run, but my mind froze, trapped between terror and disbelief.

He took a step forward.

I froze harder, wishing I could disappear into the shadows of my own room. The sweater was clutched to my chest like armor, but I knew it wouldn't protect me.

Another step.

My heart hammered so loudly I was sure he could hear it. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to run, but my legs refused to obey.

"Aren't you getting dressed, Kae?" His voice was low, deliberate, each word dragging across the room like a predator circling its prey.

I swallowed.

My throat burned.

My gaze stayed fixed on the floor, afraid that even a glance might be the wrong move.

Another step.

Closer. Too close.

I pressed myself against the wall, trying to make myself small, invisible, praying he wouldn't notice how scared I was.

The air between us felt thick, almost alive, heavy with his presence.

And then he stopped.

Just inches away. The tension wrapped around me, crushing, suffocating, and I realized—there was no escape.

"Why don't you..." he trailed off, and my eyes flicked up. "Drop the sweater."

My breath hitched. My eyes burned.

He wanted me to… what?

No.

Never.

No matter what scars he'd already left on me, I would never allow him to see me naked.

Never!

A low, dangerous chuckle slipped from him when he realised I wasn't going to listen.

"Kae," he continued, "don't make me go for the belt. You have such… delicate skin. I don't want to add any more scars."

He was sick.

My hands tightened on the sweater, digging into the fabric like it could shield me. Every step he took towards me made my stomach knot. I wanted to run—but my legs felt frozen.

"Don't test me," he murmured, voice low. My chest heaved. I couldn't breathe.

I swallowed, forcing my voice out, shaky but firm. "I'm not… I'm not taking it off."

He paused, just for a heartbeat. That tiny moment felt like the longest in my life. Then, with a muttered curse, he stepped back. I could hear his boots on the floor as he moved towards the door. His phone ringing in the distance.

The click of it shutting behind him made my body go slack. I clutched the sweater tighter, trying to will my racing heart to calm.

The silence that followed was deafening. He might be gone… but I knew this wasn't over.

Not by a long shot.