Page 12 of Borrowed
He didn’t touch me yet.Now his fingers ran over the softness of my belly, the curve of my hips, until they landed on the drenched heat of my cunt.
“That’s my girl.”
I groaned and froze, afraid Mila would hear.But Toby didn’t care.His eyes were on me.
“They won’t understand what we have.But you don’t need them.”
I nodded, tears on my lips, blood on my skin, and his hands claiming my body.
I was his.
Body.
Mind.
Soul.
Everything else was just…
Borrowed.
Toby swiped his finger over the light stream coming from his name and smiled, painting my lips.
“You are mine, my twin.Always and forever.Now sleep.”
I frowned.I didn’t want to sleep.I wanted to enjoy his fingers.I wanted to feel what he was capable of doing to my body.I wanted to come like Mila.
I wanted him.
But then suddenly, I felt sleepy, and when I laid back down on my bed, I smiled because there it was.
A black butterfly floating away back into the walls.
My thighs were sticky.
I noticed that first.
The hum of the light was next.
The sheet clung between my legs, damp with something I didn’t remember spilling.My nightgown was on the floor.My panties sat on top of it like a fish head on a plate.The chunky pillow under my head was…different.Thinner.It sounded like crunching paper, and I didn’t like it.
My fingers twitched as I sat up slowly, my hand sore in ways I didn’t remember.
The room was too quiet.
Mila’s bed didn’t creak.She had rolled around in her sleep when I came in here and muttered about things crawling on the ceiling.But now, her bed was still.Sheets tangled around her legs like seaweed pulling her under.Her mouth hung open.Her eyes stared at the buzzing light above our heads.
I blinked.
My breath made a small fog in the air.It was always too cold in here.
“Mila?”I said, my voice filled with sleep.
She didn’t answer.
Something inside me buzzed, soft and confused—a tickle behind my eyes.I slipped from the bed, feet touching the cold floor.I stepped slowly.My legs shook, and it felt like I’d run a race in my sleep, like I’d done something but couldn’t remember what.
Mila’s shirt was wrinkled, twisted halfway up her ribs.Her chest didn’t move.Her pretty blonde hair splayed on her breasts.She looked pretty, like a still-princess.I didn’t look like that.My hair was the color of oil.And I had Mother’s eyes that looked like glass.Toby’s eyes were prettier.But now, all I could see was bandages.
