Page 56 of Little Liar

She stiffens a little as I walk towards her. Branches snap under my shoes—MEJKO is still playing in one of my AirPods, the other safely in my shorts pocket.

Olivia lets out a whimper as I tug the front of her shirt, popping the buttons at her breasts. She’s shaking, but I don’t know if it’s with fear or with the anticipation that I might touch her.

I won’t. Not really.

She’s not wearing a bra, and her nipples go hard from the cold air. I lightly trace my blood-covered fingers over the perfect skin there, the pad of my thumb circling one of her nipples.

Her tits look perfect any other day, but with my blood on them, painting them red? Wearing my mask and holding my bat? I think I might give up on my plan and fuck her right here.

I release her and step back.Take your clothes off. Keep the mask on.

Slowly, she traps the bat between her thighs, unfastens the last two buttons, and lets her shirt fall to the floor, then unbuttons her pants, the bat dropping as she slides them down her legs so she’s only standing in her panties.

White lace.

Now I’m fucking harder.

You’d think having been inside my sister more times than I can count, seeing her like this, basically naked with my blood on her, I’d be used to it. Nope—I’m still very much obsessed withher, even when she’s in her PJs, with knotted hair, and smelling like garlic or some other disgusting thing.

What twenty-eight-year-old gets butterflies like this?

Damn, I love this fucking girl.

“Are you going to just stand there and stare at me all day?” she asks, her voice muffled beneath my gas mask.

The same mask I wore on Halloween night. She likes it—apparently it reminds her of how she let go and allowed herself to fully have me and not worry about the repercussions.

I think I might stand and stare—she’s a fucking masterpiece.

I gulp, knowing my shorts are tented as I drag my teeth over my bottom lip.

Olivia’s terror shines out of her.

Beautiful. Scared. Fuckable.

I want to devour her fucking soul. If she asked me to, I’d do it. Whatever it means. I’d pin her down in the dirt and fuck her so hard, her head would end up buried in the forest floor. Even if she screams for me to stop, I won’t until she’s passed out from lack of oxygen. Leaking. Fucking filled with every drop of my cum, and if any escapes, I’ll finger it all back in and drag another orgasm from her corpse.

“Malachi?”

But then if she’s a corpse, she’ll be dead. Then so would I.

We could haunt our house together.

My sister is very much stuck with me forever. If she tried to run again, I’d chain her back up in the basement and she’d never see the light of day again.

Mine, always mine. And I’ll mean it. Not just a claim of property or a claim on life. Everything about her will be mine.

Already is.

“Malachi?”

If anyone gets in my way, I’ll kill them. I’ll finish off Dad, snap Mom’s neck, and if that little sister of hers gets involved—

“Hey,” Olivia says softly, and she’s right in front of me now on the rug, the mask and bat gone. “Look at me.”

Her clothes are on. Different clothes. Sleepwear.

I blink, disorientated all of a sudden, confusion ripping through me when I look around to see we’re standing in our bedroom.