A/N
This story is for mature readers only due to sexual content and also sexual content regarding consensual sex between step relations. Characters regarding this matter are above the age of 16 (which is the age of consent in my country). If this makes you uncomfortable, then please don't read.
Additional warning: Themes of bereavement, sadness, mentions of rape, alcoholism, consensual sexual content of people under the age of 18, anger, and mild violence - I will add to this as the story continues, and notice anything else worth noting. - please, if you notice something you believe should be a warning, do let me know.
One.
I remember when life used to feel simple, when my mum was still alive and it was just me and her. I remember when she would pick me up from school in her old, rusted car, and she would take me to the park instead of going straight home, and as I've gotten older, I've realised these days corresponded with when she couldn't afford to pay the electricity bill, and we had no power.
I remember how she used to pack a picnic for us that was made up of almost out of date sandwiches, the bread boarder-line stale.
I remember throwing my crusts to the ducks in the pond, because my mum always said that eating the crust would make my hair grow curly, and I never wanted curly hair.
Thinking back now, I think I was supposed to want curly hair, and that's why she said it. Even though I know it's ridiculous to think that eating your crust would give you curly hair, she must have been right, because looking at myself in the mirror now, trying to curl my long brown and annoyingly perfectly straight hair, I regret not eating my crusts as a child.
"Helen, are you nearly ready? You're going to be late," My stepdad, Luke says, peeking his head around my bedroom door.
I look at his reflection in the mirror. Soft dark blond hair, styled purposefully messy. His bright blue eyes are playful, and his face sports slight stubble. A small black hoop homed through the right side of his bottom lip. "Almost," I answer him.
He glances at his watch, then looks to me again. "You have five minutes. I'll be waiting in the car," he says, then gently shuts the door behind him.
My mum died two years ago in a car accident. She was driving home from work, the roads icy, and the police reports say she lost control of the vehicle.
It was a tragedy. She was too young, and had spent most of her life struggling. Then when things were finally going right, finally going her way for once, meeting the love of her life, starting a new career, it was suddenly all just... gone. She was gone.
Luke and I have never really discussed it. A sore subject for the both of us. It shattered my world, just as much as it did his. She was all I'd ever known, and I think she was all Luke ever wanted to know.
She got pregnant with me very young. I was an accident, a pregnancy she didn't expect, but she could never bring herself to get rid of me, to my grandparents dismay, which is why she ran away, raising me alone. Every day must have been a struggle. Survival. But hell, she did it, and she will always be an inspiration to me.
On the day of her funeral, Luke and I kept to ourselves. The pain of the loss too much for either of us to handle. Both unsure of how to share the pain. Make it work together.
I don't think she has ever been discussed between the two of us at all since she died, and the funeral arrangements were made. A small event, with only those closest to her attending. Luke and myself of course, her sister and her sister's husband, who both traveled down from Scotland, and a few work colleagues. It was small and intimidate and exactly how my mother would have wanted it. And my grandparents were no where to be seen. Not that I would recognise them if they we to had shown up.
But even on the anniversary of her death, Luke preferred to be alone, busying himself, or merely locking himself away in his bedroom all day, and while it may not be healthy, it's his way of coping.
I do the same. Finding it easier to be alone and distract myself than have to live the win over day of her death, speaking about her, knowing I can never see her again. I've never brought her up in conversation to Luke, simply because it pains us both, and while it may not be the healthiest option, it's what works for us.
It's obvious he doesn't want to talk about her, too. It hurts him too much, and the last thing I want to do is hurt him, not when I already fear that my mere existence reminds him too much of her.
They were only together properly for about a year before they got married. My mum died shortly after. A shock to us both.
I was fourteen and Luke was twenty-six when I met him for the first time. And I remember the day perfectly.
My mum had picked me up after school, saying she had someone very important who she wanted me to meet. She had kept him a secret from me for the first few months. I assume to not get me too attached until she knew he was the one.
She gushed about him the whole journey. But I remember being nervous. It had only ever been the two of us, and although we may have struggled, we were a team. We made it work. And I didn't want someone to come in and ruin that. Ruin our duo and our easy going and fun dynamic.
The fast food place she took me to scattered few customers, and I remember an old chubby man reading the news paper. He looked nice enough, and gave me a friendly smile when he saw me smile at him first, and as we made our way toward the man, and I began to sit down at his table, my mum gently grabbed hold of my shoulders, guiding me further into the restaurant.
And then I remember when I first saw him. A young blond man. Younger than I expected. His blond messy hair curling in all the right places. His black ripped jeans, and a shirt with a bands name I didn't recognise stretched across his chest, printed on the white cotton of his T-Shirt.
And I remember his huge smile when he saw my mum walk up to him, how his face lit up at the mere sight of her. He stood, taking her in his arms, and gave her a simple but affectionate kiss on the lips.
"I was getting nervous you'd changed you're mind," he'd said, before looking down at me.
"Hi, Helen. I'm Luke. It's so good to finally meet you. You're mum has told me so much about you," he greeted me.
And I remember him being so welcoming. So nice. I remember how he'd made my mum throw her head back with laughter, and bringing life into her eyes like I'd never seen before. I remember the simple affectionate touches they shared, hand holding, small stolen kisses, Luke curling her light blonde hair behind her ear, that earned him a blush from her.
She was happy. At peace. And while she had always maintained a front with me, I knew she struggled, and I knew that even though she enjoyed my company, it wasn't always enough. And if Luke made her happy, that made me happy too. And I remember thinking to myself: I wouldn't mind our little duo, turning into a trio after all, if this was the person joining us.
The more I got to know him, the more likeable he became. So youthful. Playful. Fun. And he gave my mum more life in the small time they were together, than in all the years she was alive before she met him.
But not only did he make my mum happier, he made me happier too. He became my friend, and a companion. Always willing to chill with me, and show me new music. He listened to me, and not just to impress my mum, but because he actually cared, and actually had an interest in what I was saying.
He bought me shoes and helped me develop my own personal style that my mum had never been able to afford. Not that that mattered. But it made me like him even more.
And his youthfulness made him fun to be around, and my mum and I would never leave his presence without us both grinning from ear to ear, both feeling relaxed, and at peace for the first time in our lives.
While he was young, three years younger than my mum, he become our security. Our comfort. And he helped us more than I think he knows.
My mum always tried her best to provide for me, but it was obvious she struggled by my seccond hand clothing, our small, run down flat, and cheap food. Luke, being the successful young solicitor he was, made all of that stop, and while he was at the start of his career, his wage was more than double my mum had ever earned. Even with my mums protests, he began to provide for us.
We finally moved out of our small flat and into a huge fancy house in a nice neighborhood I only dreamed about living in when I was a child. All the houses were detached and nothing like the small town I had grown up in. And each property on our street had so much space.
My mum got a car upgrade, our clothes became nicer, and we could finally afford to experience the things we never had before.
With a new outlook on life, and a rise in confidence, my mum landed a new job, and finally her guilt of Luke paying for everything eased.
Even though my mum tried her hardest before him, which I will always be grateful for, I don't think I could ever thank Luke enough for how he improved both our lives. Being the best thing that ever happened to the both of us. And while it is a tragedy that she lost her life so young, and is something that makes me insanely angry at the world, I'm glad her last days on earth were spent happily, living side by side with Luke.
Luke got full custody of me shortly after my mum died. I've never known my dad, and my mum never provided details of him, only that he refused to be a part of my life, I assume because he was afraid of raising a child so young.
The nearest family I have are my auntie and uncle in Scotland, and while the last time I saw them was at my mums funeral, they still send me birthday cards and give me the occasional call to check up on me.
When the incident happened, and our lives got thrown upside down, I never had to tell Luke that I didn't want to move to Scotland and live with them, he just knew, and that's when I realised that he understood me. Besides, I think he prefers me to stay with him. I think he needs me to keep him sane.
I quickly finish getting ready and run down to the red 1959 Chevrolet Corvette that is parked in the driveway. Luke's never really liked sport cars, but he loves a good classic, and while I've never really been into cars myself, even I have to say that it is a beauty.
"I think you broke your record," Luke smiles to me, glancing at the clock on the dashboard.
8:32am.
I smile, beaming at him, because for once I'm not going to be late for college. "Go me."
Luke starts the engine and pulls out of our drive way. "So," he starts, "I've decided that you're un-grounded."
"Really?" I ask him, unable to hide the surprise in the tone of my voice. I was supposed to be grounded for anther week because I stayed out until way past my curfew.
I supposed to be in at 11 o'clock at night and I came in at roughly 11 o'clock the morning after. My excuse being that I slept over at my friend, Brooke's house, and that he didn't specify which eleven I come home at. Of course he doesn't need to know the real story of how I was actually at the guy I have been seeing's flat. Calum's flat is in the town centre, and I often lie to Luke about my whereabouts while Calum fucks me right into oblivion. While my relationship with Calum probably isn't healthy for me, acting as my own personal coping mechanism, a distraction from the things I want to run from, it works. And who am I to fight against something that works?
I can usually be very open with Luke, with only a twelve year age gap, he is very easy to be around. However, I believe it be best to lie about certain situations. And any situations involving boys are situations to lie about.
It's not that he's strict about me seeing anyone. I believe it's just something that he finds uncomfortable to talk about. Being so young himself, talking about relationships to a seventeen year old you're raising probably isn't the easiest conversation to have. And I often avoid any conversations regarding Calum, as Luke strongly disapproves.
But of course he still grounded me for 'thinking I'm clever' and 'scaring him to death'. But it didn't stop him from laughing at my ridiculous excuse though. And I mean real laugh, like he used to do when my mum was still alive. And it's the small moments like that that make me gleeful. Knowing I'm able to make him smile makes me feel less guilty for being a burden to him.
"Well, after I read your history paper last night, you impressed me. I could tell how hard you worked on it. Figured you deserved a 'get out of jail free card'."
"You really liked it?" I ask him. History is important to me. It's a subject I want to study at University, and pursue a career as a history teacher. I'm hoping to leave college with all A's, so I can go to my dream university in Manchester, close to home so I can still see Luke as often as I can. Thinking about moving hours away from home, away from him, it unsettles me. I know I wouldn't be able to cope without seeing him. Just like he did with my mum, he makes me feel alive, and being around him makes me happier than I would ever admit to him.
Luke nods, his eyes still on the road ahead. "Yeah. Like I said, you impressed me. You know it takes a lot to impress me. You're definitely getting an A on that, Darlin'."
I grin. "You really think so?"
He glances at me quickly, before returning his attention back at the road ahead. "I know so," he says with a smile that makes me blush, because making him smile affects me in ways they probably shouldn't. "And when you do, I might just have to treat my favourite girl."
"Oh yeah?" I grin. "And what's my treat?"
"I guess we'll decide when you show me that A," he says, pulling up outside of my college.
I see that Calum is waiting for me by the gates, and when Luke notices, he scowls.
"You're still seeing him?" He asks, his voice displeased.
"We're just friends," I tell him, rolling my eyes. I've never understood his hatred for Calum. The few times that Calum has conversed with Luke, he was nothing but polite, even calling him, Sir, for Christ's sake. Yet, Luke still doesn't like him. He say's he has 'bad intentions', but I think it's more to do with the fact that Calum has tattoo's and drives a motorcycle than anything else, which I find ridiculous given that Luke has his lip pierced.
It's strange, given that he is a fully grown twenty-nine year old man with a job that makes him go to work in well tailored suits, yet he somehow pulls it off.
Luke is attractive, with his perfectly ruffled dark blonde hair that looks extra soft today, making me itching to touch it, run my fingers through it to test how true my hypothesis is. His jaw is strong, and his shoulders are broad. The expensive leather belt he often wears through the loops of his suit trousers accentuate his narrow waist, only making his arms and shoulders look even more broad. And while everything about him is all man, he's still youthful in how he carries himself.
It's a healthy reminder that our age gap isn't so big after all, and I often find my thoughts always coming back to him. Even in times I would never admit aloud to anyone, when he's at the forefront of my brain while my fingers have worked myself into bliss under my duvet at night.
I know it's wrong. Forbidden. And I know I probably need some for of therapy at some point, by someone who will probably state it's because of some unresolved daddy issues, or other childhood trauma, like losing my mum so young, but I can't help myself. It's like my own fucked up dirty little secret, my own fucked up fantasy, just for me.
Right now, I like fantasising. He's everything I want in a man. He's sweet and he's kind. He takes care of me and he actually listens to me. If it wasn't so wrong, I could fall in love with him, and it would be so easy to do so. He's so attentive, and caring, and treats me like no one else ever could. It's so easy to fantasise.
I often wonder what it would have been like if he never married my mum, if I just met him in a bar or something and we hit it off. I day dream about it sometimes, wishing I could re-write our story. But it's all futile. That isn't our reality. No matter how much wish it could have been.
But sometimes, just sometimes, I get small glimpses of him. Sometimes it's in the way he speaks to me, or his small innocent touches. Sometimes he makes me feel like he doesn't see my as his step-daughter. It's theses small sometimes that make me wonder how he see's me. Am I just a young girl to him that is in his care, or am I a woman he just happens to live with by some unfortunate circumstances? Of course the notion of me even questioning something like this is ridiculous.
He is Luke. Luke, my step-dad.
And I am Helen. Helen, who has to keep her thoughts to herself.
"Guys like him aren't 'just friends' with girls like you, Hel-bel."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, my voice a little too defensive, and it seems like I always have to stick up for Calum in the limited conversations Luke and I have about him.
He sighs, taking his attention from Calum and turning to me. "Nothing. Have a good day, Darlin'," he says, giving me a small smile.
"You too," I tell him, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek. "And good luck with the case," I tell him, referring to the case he has been working on for the last sixteen months.
Luke is a good solicitor, but this case has been challenging for him, and I hope he wins it. He's worked so hard on it. You can tell just by looking at him, with the dark circles under his eyes, he looks like he hasn't slept in days, and sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and find him in his home office, working on it late into the night.
I think he's working so hard on it because it may hit close to home for him. A young girl about my age is trying to send her rapist to prison, but no one believes her. No one but Luke that is, and he just wants justice for the girl and her parents. He made a passing comment about it to me, saying how he need to get the guy locked up because it could have been any girl in my age group, and he may do it again if he isn't punished for his crime, and rehabilitated.
Luke deserves to win it, but it's more than that to him. He want's the bastard to rot behind bars.
He gives me a small smile. "Thank you."
I get out of the car and walk up to Calum. The cold weather making the tanned skin of his cheeks and nose red. His chocolate brown hair is waved, just falling past his ears.
"Hey, babe," he grins, and kisses me on the corner of my mouth, his soft plump lips making me blush slightly, knowing he has just done that in front of Luke, not really helping with the whole 'we're just friends' lie that easily slipped out from my mouth to Luke.
I give Calum a small smile before turning around to Luke, and I see that he's scowling at Calum, but when I give him a small wave goodbye, I am rewarded with a tight smile before he starts up the engine and drives away.
"Jeez, that guy really has it out for me, huh?" Calum says.
"He's just over protective," I explain as Calum snakes both of his arms around my back and pulls me into him.
"Well, now that he's gone, I can greet you properly," he smiles, before placing his lips over mine. It's a gentle kiss. One reserved for public eyes only. Nothing compared to how he kisses me the in privacy of his one bedroom flat.
Sighing happily into the kiss, I wrap my arms around his neck and run my fingers through his dark brown locks.
"God, get a room," someone says, making us pull apart only to find that it's Brooke, smirking at the two of us as she pushes her caramel coloured hair out of her dark brown eyes, fighting against the Autumn wind, her tiny frame no match to the gusty weather.
"Don't be jealous, Brooke," Calum teases her, sending a playful wink her way.
She rolls her eyes and scoffs. "Sorry Calum, but the only reason I am jealous of Helen is because she gets to live with that hunk of a man she calls her step-daddy. Speaking of," she looks around. "How have I missed him again? Dammit!" she laughs.
Brooke has repeatedly expressed her attraction to my stepdad, regardless of the fact that she has a boyfriend. And she has a lack of filter that makes Luke feel awkward when she comes around to our house. She isn't afraid to say what she's thinking, even if that is to tell Luke he has 'fuck me eyes' at the dinner table, making Luke choke on his chicken.
Calum rolls his eyes at Brooke before turning his attention to me. "So, after college, my place? You could just lie to your dad, tell him your revising at the library or some shit."
"Stepdad," I clarify, "And there's no need. He un-grounded me this morning."
"How nice of him," he says flatly, then kisses me on the cheek. "I'll see you later then."
"Yeah, see ya," I say as I watch him walk off towards the college doors.
"God, I hate that guy," Brooke finally says once he's out of earshot, coming to stand by my side.
I sigh. "I know you do."And I'm unsure of where the hatred for Calum comes from. He's never been anything but lovely to me, ever since I met him in class last year. He's polite, and friendly, and it's easy to be around him. He doesn't pry about my life, and it's just simple between us.
"I just don't understand why you go out with him. You could have anyone you want," she tells me, tucking her hair behind her ears in a another futile attempt to battle against the wind.
I almost laugh at her words, because its ironic that the only person I want, I can never have.
He's forbidden.
"We're just friends, Brooke. I've told you."
She sets off walking towards the college building, and I follow her, walking by her side. "Yeah," she scoffs, "Sure you are."
"We are. Honestly. Calum, is nothing but a good fuck," I say simply. And a distraction from what I can never have.
She grins. "I don't blame you. If I were you, I think I would need an easy fuck at the end of the night too, if I had to look at Luke all day, knowing I could never have him," she says, as if she can read my thoughts.
I hit her arm playfully. "You're disgusting," I say, because I can never tell her just how right she really is.