Page 30 of Scream Little Sister

But fuck me. Madison looked stunning with fear in her eyes. She cowered before me, clearly intimidated by having my full attention on her. In that short span of time, I imagined all the ways I would have made her scream for me. I wanted to punish her for being in my bedroom.

She said she didn’t go through any of my things, but I find that hard to believe. Madison always walked around like the world owed her, like she had every right to things that didn’t belong to her. I caught her wearing my T-shirt when we were in high school. I never confronted her about it because that meant speaking to her.

So many confusing thoughts and feelings about my little sister. One minute I want to break her, make her cry. The next minute, I want to make her scream while she bounces on my cock. Then, shortly following that thought, I remind myself how I would break her down until she left my room in tears.

I’m fucked up in the head for having these thoughts and feelings about Madison. I hate the girl, and the hatred alone should be enough reason for me to be repulsed by her. But the crush I’ve had hinders my ability to nip the problem in the bud.

“Would you fuck your sister?”

I cringe at Aiden’s question, which seems to echo in my mind at all the wrong times.

I shove my feet into my boots and slip on my jacket. My phone buzzes with an incoming text message. I snatch it from beside the skull mask Madison tried sneaking off with earlier.

I shake my head and read the text message.

Hawk

We’re all meeting at Susana’s at midnight. Also, how did it go with Jerry?

Well, let’s just say I’m now living at his place again for a little while.

The fuck? Why?

I’ll fill you in when we meet up later, but keep your eyes peeled for anyone who shouldn’t be hanging out in the neighborhood.

ooookay. That’s not suspicious at all…

You see a person creeping around, take them to the hideout.

You seriously need to stop with the subliminal shit and just fill me in now.

I’ve gotta go. If I’m late for dinner, Jerry will lose it.

“This smells good, darling,” Jerry says to my mother.

Mom grins at him, delighted by his approval. She waits to dig into her dish, keeping her gaze on Jerry as he shoves a forkful of food into his mouth. At his soft hum, her smile widens and crinkles the corners of her eyes.

I can’t remember the last time she cooked. It’s always been Mary, and I have to admit, her cooking is far superior to my mother’s.

Mary sits beside Madison with a deep scowl as she looks at her plate. She raises her head and gives my mother the stink eye. The two never got along, but they played nice when I was a kid. They pretended to be on each other’s good side, but when they thought I wasn’t around, they bickered like two old hens.

They were from two different worlds. My mother grew up in poverty, and before she married Jerry, she struggled financially. My father wasn’t around to take care of us like he should have been. When my mom was pregnant with me, he left for work one day and never came back.

Mary grew up in a wealthy family and didn’t have to worry about where her next meal would come from. She’s the complete opposite of her brother, however. He’s an abrasive asshole with an ego the size of a planet, while Mary is caring and gives a shit about people.

My mom lost touch with where she came from and became a snobby rich woman who turns a blind eye to her husband beating her child. It’s a valid reason for Mary to dislike her—not that Mary knows what Jerry did to me.

Mom smiles at me as she picks up her fork. “How have you been, son? I’ve missed you.”

“Fine,” I say.

It’s a knee-jerk response. No one wants to hear you boo-hoo about how much you hate living. People say they support mental health until the minute you show the uglier parts of your mental illness. They complain about how you’re no fun anymore or how you were more tolerable to be around when you pretended to be happy. It’s something I’ve witnessed repeatedly, which makes it hard to say anything to anyone.

Hesitation freezes my mother’s smile, and she stabs a cubed potato on her plate. “Just fine?”

I recline in my seat and fold my arms over my chest while keeping a blank face.

Jerry raises his head and glares at me, all while noisily chewing his food. Pretty sure he isn’t tasting a bit of what’s on his plate because of how fast he’s consuming it.