MY STEP BROTHER

Chapter 4

Revelation

I don't know how I manage to find the brain power to get myself home, but

I do, managing it partly on bare feet when I finally conceded that my shoes

are agonizing and I'm sore enough already without losing toes making my

escape.

I get into my room and close the door and lock it and then stand there like

one of those Ancient Greek warriors faced with a gorgon. I've turned to

stone. I want to scream FUCK FUCK FUCK in the loudest voice but Dad

and Lacey are home and so my terrible expression of utter mortification is

instead uttered quietly against the fist I seem to have half shoved into my

mouth.

Oh my God. He knew. He knew.

My whole body is a big bundle of adrenaline spiked flesh and boneless

panic.

He said princess. It's the nickname he always uses for me because he

knows how much it pisses me off. But did he mean it directly at me

because he knew, or does he just throw around that patronizing term of
endearment to any girl that crosses his path. I feel sick to my stomach...in

fact......I dash to my bathroom and only just reach the toilet before I start to

heave. I hate being sick at the best of times, but now I'm shaking and

crying because I don't know what to do. If he knows it was me, if he

guessed, then how can we pretend it never happened? I can't go back to

being his stepsister and sitting next to him at dinner making innocuous

family style conversation. I can't hear him call me princess again without

seeing him lying on that rug, jeans around his thighs and his hand covering

up the evidence of what we'd done.

I retch again at the thought of having to go downstairs tomorrow and see

him pour out his stupid sugary chocolate cereal like an overgrown fiveyear-old, and pretend nothing happened.

This is a disaster of epic proportions.

At the sink, I wash out my mouth with a handful of water and then catch

sight of myself in the mirror. My black lace bat mask it still in place but my

white face make-up is smudged and my lipstick is nonexistent. I look at

myself objectively, trying to work out if he could have guessed. With my

purple eyes and a lot of my face covered by the mask and my wig, I can't

see how he would have suspected. I kept my voice level different the whole

time. I didn't slip once. When I left the house before the party I was totally convinced he would never guess. My heart rate starts to normalize as I

begin to doubt my panic-induced freak out. Harrison can be a real charmer.

I know this. He has a silver tongue. That must be what the 'princess'

comment was all about. Just him rolling out the smooth moves.

Maybe I'm worrying about nothing. I take some steadying deep breaths,