Page 13

Cody

Rafael left for the rest of the day. He didn’t even come home for dinner. After taking a hot shower, I stood in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

Who am I?

Control. I prided myself on being in control. It wasn’t a natural skill, but one that developed over time. I had to be in control. If I relaxed for a second, the rug might get pulled out from under me.

Being with Mom before she met Hank felt like living with a ticking time bomb. If I weren’t on high alert, I’d miss the signs: a past due medical bill that evolved into a heap of collection notices, a single cockroach scurrying from under the refrigerator that later turned into an infestation, a weird sound in the ceiling that eventually led to a burst pipe. If I hadn’t paid close attention to the little signs, disaster could have ensued, and all these disasters would have cost money.

Money we didn’t have.

The slightest surprise threw our financial situation into turmoil. The weight of it all would come crashing down on Mom, and she’d fall apart. A heap on the floor, crying into her arms.

I stepped up. I stayed ready.

The little desk at the foot of my twin bed in Sue’s basement had one side for homework and another for bills. I mastered the art of forgery, ensuring Mom’s signature landed on every permission slip and important document. She had even given me her checkbook and access to her bank information, so I could take care of things on the fly if needed.

Don’t get me wrong, my Mom was wonderful. She’s the kind of woman who’d come home after working her ass off all day and play Uno with me. When things were good, her joy was infectious. She never had a mean thing to say about anyone. In fact, she made a point of finding something good in everyone. She was even doing it with Rafael. Her empathy was limitless. It was only bad when things became too much for her. She just couldn’t handle the really heavy stuff after her breakdown. She looked to me for support. I needed to tell her everything was going to be okay and figure out the best course of action because her mind couldn’t steady itself to think clearly in those moments.

I never thought I minded. Sure, it’s stressful, but you do what you gotta do. If Mom fell apart, I’d take care of it. I would figure it out. The pressure never got to me.

Or, at least, that’s what I told myself.

Looking in the mirror and seeing the droplets of water dripping down the stranger before me made it perfectly clear that I needed a release. Why else would I have submitted so quickly to the sociopath that is my stepbrother? What happened to my brain? It fucking vanished. All of my critical thinking skills went flying out the window.

Because letting Rafael take control vanquished the ever-present tension I hadn’t fully realized lived inside me, I just existed, ready to do what he told me, and I couldn’t deny how much I needed it. How much I craved being out of control.

I wanted to scream—to punch the walls or kick that fucker’s door down and tell him to get the fuck out. It was all his fault. He’d just moved in and had already made my brain explode.

And my dick. Twice.

Fuck. I hated how good it felt both times. They were the best orgasms I’d ever had. Ever. A jolt of electricity shot through my body and filled me with ravenous desire when he called me a “Good boy.” Why did I love that? He texted me at the driving range, and I literally dropped everything and ran to him.

How fucking pathetic.

I ran into my bedroom and lay down on my bed. Darkness consumed me as I wrapped the pillow around my head. The worst part about all of this was the humiliation. No, worse than that. I felt vulnerable with Rafael, and he took advantage of it.

I hate him so much.

Not again. I’d never let that happen again. He’d never hold power over me like that for as long as I lived. I can do this . I could resist him. I had to. Besides, it was fucking weird anyway. I couldn’t be into my stepbrother. If I wanted to experiment, I needed to find a dude online or something. Maybe that was it? Maybe submitting to a man released something I couldn’t let go of with girls? Okay, I could accept that. I could experiment with this kind of dom/sub kink if I wanted, but not with Rafael.

I needed to stay away from Rafael.

My weary legs carried me to the book on my desk, and I plopped back down on the bed, ready to lose myself in another world. Reading was my escape. When things got tough, I’d get lost in a fantasy or sci-fi book. Get me off this trashfire of a planet, thank you. Reading was always my escape. Even with Hank providing a level of stability we’d never known, I still loved the way my mind left reality and traveled to a place far away from the pressures of life.

I started reading, and before I knew it, it was midnight.

Fuck. So late.

I reached for the light on my nightstand and pulled the chain. When we moved in, Hank got me an antique banker’s table lamp, which I loved. When we first met, we somehow got on the topic of movies and bonded over our love of old gangster films. When he gave it to me, he said he wanted to get me something reminiscent of the time. His thoughtfulness shocked me.

Maybe that’s why Rafael hates me.

Woof. Big thoughts were coming in at midnight, and I was too tired for that shit. I shut my eyes, hellbent on getting some sleep before I had to endure a new day with Mr. Finger-fucker in the room across the hall.

My brain floated between consciousness and sleep when I heard choking. What the hell?

I got out of my bed and walked into the hallway. The sounds came from Rafael’s room. It was a garbled sound, as if he were choking on liquid. I flipped. I thought he might be overdosing or something. I knew he hadn’t finished the vodka in the car, but I didn’t know how much he had left. Could he be choking on his vomit?

I barged in. Going into his bedroom after everything that had happened that day was not on a list of wise decisions, but he could have been dying for all I knew.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness. He shook on the bed, one hand reaching out to nothing. His breathing tightened, and his voice was trapped in his throat. With each time he opened his mouth, a wet choking sound released, and he’d close his mouth, sealing the seam of his lips.

I didn’t see foamy drool or vomit pouring from his mouth. Is he dreaming? I approached the bed, not knowing what to do in this situation. I learned about night terrors and that waking someone up from one could be dangerous. Indecision left me frozen until I finally decided to try to wake Rafael.

His arm stretched forward—his fingers reaching for something. I took hold of his hand and said, “Rafael. Wake up, Rafael.” He didn’t wake. He gripped my hand, his lips sealed shut, but the moaning sounds he emitted intensified, like he was trying to yell out something but couldn’t open his mouth. I used my other hand to shake his shoulder. “Rafael. You’re dreaming. Wake up.”

He startled awake and yelled, “Mattie!” His chest heaved as he gasped for air. His eyes were desperate, and, for the briefest of moments, I could see a look of hope on his face even in the darkness.

Then his eyes shifted, and he looked at me—really looked at me. A sense of realization dawned on his face. He narrowed his eyes, and the moonlight glistened off the tear falling down his cheek.

“What are you doing here?”

His voice frightened me. I stuttered, searching for something to say, noticing he was still clutching my hand. My gaze fell on it, and he must have noticed, too, because he ripped his hand away and pushed me.

“Get out. Don’t come in here ever again.”

I didn’t leave. He seemed so shattered. “Rafael, I’m sorry. I heard choking and I thought—”

“You heard me? You heard my…” His voice trailed off. His eyes looked wild, darting about the room as if searching for something before landing on me. “I never want you in here again. Don’t come in here again. No matter what you hear. Ever.”

I stood there, blinking like an idiot. He rose to his feet and approached, his voice unhinged as he asked, “Do you understand me?”

My hands shot up in surrender. “Yeah, yeah, I promise. I’m sorry. I just thought you needed help.”

His hands gripped my neck, and he pushed me against the wall. His venomous eyes bored into me, and his lips quivered. “I don’t need your help. You think I’d need help from someone like you? You’re pathetic, Cody.”

A cold chill rushed over me. Nobody had ever made me feel so worthless. I came in here to help, and this was how he responded? My body trembled, and the word he used echoed in my mind over and over again. Pathetic.

And, I felt pathetic because I wanted to help him even though he treated me so badly. I wanted his touch even though it caused me pain. My brain couldn’t reconcile with the paradox. I clenched my eyes shut. I wouldn’t cry in front of him. Why did he have to be in the same house as me? Why?

He released my throat. My body shook as a torrent of rage and hurt coursed through my veins.

He opened the door, the sound making me open my eyes, and motioned for me to get out. I should have done something. I should have stood up for myself, but my mouth couldn’t form words. I left because I didn’t know what else to do. I just wanted to get away. Once I was out in the hall, he slammed the door closed.

I made my way back to my room and wept. I cried so hard my chest ached and my body shook as I sobbed into my pillow. The shame I felt was agonizing. The self-hatred was so palpable it literally hurt.

I lay in bed, muffling my tears on the pillow. I couldn’t make sense of anything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, but I knew for sure that I hated Rafael with an unbridled fury that made me want to do things that scared me.