Page 90 of You Were Always Mine
“Fuck,” Kai snarls, ripping himself away from me so fast the mattress groans. He’s already shoving upright, dragging a shirt over his head with hands that shake more from rage than surprise.
I sit there, stunned, my skin still buzzing, my pulse still screaming for him, and now every nerve ending screaming with terror too.
He rakes a hand through his hair, jaw locked, eyes blazing like he might explode if he looks at me for another second. Then he leans down, close enough for me to feel the heat of him again, his voice low and venomous.
“This isn’t over, Scar. Not even close.”
And then he’s gone, scrambling out of the room before our parents can climb the stairs, leaving me trembling in the wreckage of almost.
I barely yank the blanket higher, hiding the flush on my chest, hiding everything. My body still reeks of him—heat, sweat, want—but I force myself still, force my lungs to slow even though they won’t.
The door swings open before I can even breathe right.
“There you are,” Mum says brightly, poking her head in like she always does. “We thought maybe you were out with friends.”
Her eyes skim over me—too fast, too casual—and my throat clogs with panic. Can she smell him on me? Can she see the red blooming high on my cheeks?
“I was just… tired,” I choke out, tugging the blanket tighter, praying she doesn’t notice my trembling hands.
Dad appears behind her, jangling his keys. “Your brother downstairs?”
Brother. The words slice me clean in two.
I swallow hard, nodding like it doesn’t gut me. “Yeah. He… just went down.”
Mum’s smile softens, oblivious. “He’s such a good boy. Always keeping an eye on you when we’re not around.”
Good boy. If only she knew.
I manage a brittle smile, nodding again, every muscle aching from holding myself together. They linger a moment longer before retreating, footsteps fading down the hall, voices drifting toward the kitchen.
The second they’re gone, I collapse back into the pillows, shoving my fist against my mouth to smother the sound clawing up my throat. Kai was right.
This isn’t over.
And the worst part? I don’t want it to be.
The second the front door thuds shut again—my parents’ voices drifting faintly from the kitchen—I curl tighter into myself, clawing the sheets around my body like they can erase what just happened. Like fabric can scrub his touch out of my skin.
But it doesn’t.
I can still feel him—his mouth, his hands, the way he looked at me like I was already his. I could taste his breathwhen he bent close enough to whisper things no brother should ever whisper, things no sane girl should ever beg to hear.
Brother. The word is poison. It runs through me until I want to peel my own skin off.
They called him that, smiling, proud, so oblivious. Your brother downstairs. And I nodded, like it was normal. Like there wasn’t sweat drying between my thighs, like I didn’t just claw at him, lie for him, lie to myself.
The lies are choking me. I can’t breathe around them.
I bury my face in the pillow, biting down until my teeth ache, until I can swallow the sobs that keep threatening to break. Because if I cry, he’ll hear. He always hears.
And I don’t know what’s worse—him coming back through that door to finish what he started… or him staying away long enough for me to realise I want him to.
I squeeze my eyes shut, nails digging crescents into my palms, whispering into the dark, over and over:
This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. He’s my brother. He’s my brother. He’s my brother.
But my body won’t believe me.
