I’m surprised when I walk into the kitchen and see my sister sitting at the breakfast table. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her that I feel like she’s not even a part of my life despite being the most important person in my life. The only person who seems to want to be a part of it.
“Hey, little bro!” she says as she jumps off the stool and rushes over to me before pulling me into her arms and squeezing me tightly. “Gosh, I missed you so much.”
And for the first time in my life, I find that I don’t instantly hug her back. Instead, I find my body stiffening.
“What are you doing?” I ask before I even think about it. It’s a question I’ve wanted to ask her for what feels like years.
She hesitates then beams at me. “What do you mean? I’m home for a little bit.”
No, she left me. We were supposed to stick together. We were supposed to always be there to support each other and she left me to do whatever the fuck Father wants. She left me to let him rule her life, control her and make it a living hell. But she seems happy. Does she care that much about his approval? “Why are you doing what Father wants? Why are you helping him?”
Brandy stares at me as her smile falls. “You don’t understand, do you? You don’t get it. I’m helping!”
Am I the one who doesn’t get it? I thought we always got it, together, but since she started helping Father two years ago, it’s like she’s forgotten about me. Forgotten to even care about me. All that bullshit we told each other when we were children went out the window the moment Father started to see her as something other than a bastard child. I shake my head because this isn’t helping. What she’s doing isn’t helping. “You don’t even care anymore. You’re just like him. Every time I see you, you become more and more like him and it’s disgusting.”
The look she gives me guts me, but I can’t face her anymore. I can’t deal with this anymore. So I turn around and rush away.
That’s okay. I’m used to being alone. It’s the only thing I seem to know these days.
Twenty-Three
“Your plan is to kill me, isn’t it?” I whine as Shepherd literally vaults over a fallen tree when he clearly could go around it. Like he wants to make more work for himself.
“I… probably wouldn’t have sucked your dick if I was going to,” he calls back at me.
I think about that one for a moment as my lungs threaten to explode. When Shepherd said we were going for a jog this morning, I thought he meant like a lovely jog down the road. I was not fully aware that he meant we would go for a mad dash through the forest, up and down the hills, and over fallen trees, while trying not to die from things like holes, rocks, and sharp drop-offs. “Maybe it was like a farewell present. Like… I don’t super like you, but I pity you enough to suck your dick before I say fare-fucking-well.”
“For someone who is supposedly dying,” Shepherd calls back at me, “you’re keeping up amazingly well and your mouth never stops. To me, that seems like someone who has plenty of oxygen to spare. Maybe a couple more miles, then?”
Fuck. “Ha, ha. Funny, funny. I have to rant about you; it’s the only thing that keeps me energized. It’s like I take the anger I feel at your overzealous attitude to do everything in life, bottle it up, and let it help me run around like an idiot.”
“See? Then all of this is good. I don’t see a single downside to it yet,” he says, but I’m suspicious as hell of him. “That’s great!”
“A break? Is that what you just said?”
“No, I said that’s great.”
“A break! Thank the heavens!” I say as I drop to my knees right there and sink to the ground. Bear thinks that’s an amazing opportunity to maul me. But at least his mauling mostly consists of slamming his body on top of mine and trying his hardest to lick me. It’s disgusting and almost as bad as a full-on mauling, but I grab him in a headlock instead.
Shepherd walks over to me before peering down at me. “I’m starting to assume you’re