Mated To My Obsessive Stepbrother

KESTER.

14 YEARS AGO.

1

I lay on my bed, one arm limp at my side while my head rested on the other, with my eyes fixed on the

ceiling above me like it held the secrets to why my world had fallen apart.

From my headset, Billie Eilish sang what felt like the story of my life

What was I made for...

It was a quiet song, but it hit so loud in my chest.

I was probably too young to understand lyrics like those, but I understood hurt too deeply and too early. The song resonated with me so much that I couldn't stop listening to it.

And it made the ache in my chest louder sometimes. Like pressing on a bruise you couldn't help but touch.

But other times, it made me feel less alone and hopeful. Especially that last part.

... Think I forgot how to be happy

...Something I'm not, something I

can be

...Something I wait for

...Something I'm made for...

God, yeah. That part always cracked something inside me.

Because I had truly forgotten how to be happy and what it even meant. Didn't even know how it felt anymore.

Since my mum died - because she was deadnoveldrama

to me

a part of

me died. When Dad told me she was gone, I didn't cry.

I didn't scream or shout or break things like the kids in movies.

I just sat there and waited to feel something... Sadness. Anger. Shock Anything.

But what I felt was betrayal. And it was the cold, heavy kind of betrayal I felt.

She betrayed me. She left without looking back. She could have taken me with her, but she didn't.

She left me in the hands of the monster she called my father. That was heartless.

She knew what he was. And she still left me here.

What kind of a mother does that?

What kind of a mother chooses that?

Now, this was all I knew how to do... Lie still, keep quiet, and be invisible.

School wasn't fun and never interested me, and Norlan's place was most days, I stayed in here and got lost in music that said the thing

only place I didn't feel like I was constantly shrinking. But I didn't know how to say.

The door to my room slowly opened, and I tilted my head just a little to take a glance, but the moment I saw who it was, I went back to staring at the ceiling.

"Kester," my dad called in the soft voice he started learning to use in the past weeks. It felt like he'd been practicing to use that tone in front of a mirror.

The volume of the music I was listening to was really low, so I could hear him, but I pretended not to.

He closed the door and entered my room, gently tapping me to get my attention.

I didn't move. I just kept my eyes on that ceiling, tracing the same tiny crack I'd been staring at for days. It was starting to look like a lightning bolt. Or maybe a scar.

He tapped me again.

This time, I exhaled slowly, peeled one side of the headset off my ear and turned my head just enough to face him. But I didn't speak

He stood there awkwardly

a second as if he wasn't sure if I was looking through him or at him. Maybe both.

Then he said, "How are you doing, son?"

I almost laughed.

Son?

He really had the nerve.

I just stared at him, blank-faced and silent.

I knew what he wanted. He'd been

walking around for days like he wanted to say something but couldn't figure out how to wrap it in fake smiles and softer tones. He always started with the same question – “How are you doing?" - like that was supposed to open some magical door to my heart.

I didn't answer. I didn't care what he wanted. I just wanted him to get it over with.

He rubbed his palms together, then sat at the edge of my bed. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and I hated how close he felt.

"I'd like to talk to you about something," he said, still maintaining that soft tone, as if I was fragile glass, and

he was pretending not to be the one who dropped me.

Still, I didn't speak. I just waited.

"Jorja's moving in tomorrow."

I didn't react. At least not at first.

"She's bringing her daughter, who'll become your sister," he added.

"She's seven. Sweet kid. I think you'll like her if you give her a change." He was trying to sound casual now

as if this was normal. "Try to be nice to her, okay?"

And that... that did it."

Something inside me snapped like a crack in the earth before a quak.

I sat up a little, my eyes narrowing just slightly, but I still didn't say anything. I just stared at him harder.

"Look, Kes..." he started, using that fake-soft tone again, but I cut him off.

"Was she the reason you were a monster to Mum? You were cheating on her with this Jorja woman?"

His face twisted, "Of course not, son," he said quickly, almost like he been rehearsing the denial. "Jorja lost her husband two years ago. We just... got to know each other a little over a year now.'

He sounded desperate. He really needed me to believe him.

I didn't blink. "So why aren't you getting married to the woman who actually ruined your home? The one Mum always complained about?”

I paused, but when he didn't speak, I continued, “Didn't you love her enough to let

her wreck your family? Didn't she mean something? Or was she just one of the many 'mistakes' you made?"

He exhaled, "We've talked about

.n

this," he said, rubbing his hands together like he could wash the truth off them. She was a mistake. Nothing serious. Your mother just... couldn't stop making a fuss about it every time."

I stared at him like he'd grown two heads.

He really thought I'd believe that.

I wasn't seven anymore.

He was the reason Mum started drinking and going out with other men. He was

the reason she stopped smiling. He turned her into someone else... Someone

bitter, lost, and lonely. And when she finally broke, she left me behind.

He had another family out there... A woman and a daughter. And now he wanted to bring a different woman into his home?

дел

"You can go ahead and do whatever you want," said, "Move her in. Marry her. Paint the walls pink. I don't care. Just make sure they don't come anywhere near me. I'll tolerate them in this house, but I never see her as my mother!" I got off the bed angrily, "And her daughter?" I added, meeting his eyes dead-on. "She will never be my sister."

I walked out on him and made sure I shut the door with enough force to make him understand that I meant every word I had just said.

I didn't know who this woman was, and I'd never attempted to find out. I never

even tried to catch a glimpse of her when she dropped things off or called the house.

And that's because I didn't care.

Let them all move in. Let them play happy family.

They could all go to hell for all I cared.