Chapter 1 #2
"She can't have a beer," Carrie interrupts. "She has a concussion, and she's on pain medication."
She looks like she wants to rip me apart with her teeth, and it catches me off guard. Mistress is what I usually call her, and typically, Mistress is meek and uncomfortable in my presence, like a wet fucking blanket.
She's lucky I like fucking her daughter more than I like grinding her into the fucking ground. I'd love to tell her right now that it was my dick that had Saige whimpering in that video, that she told me it hurt, and I had to choke her to shut her up so I could fuck her sweet pussy longer.
Hell, I'd love to bend her over the counter right now and show them both just how much Saige likes her big brother.
My dick swells in my pants.
Instead, I say, "Right. My bad. Do you want some water or something? Or, let's see, there's…"
"Elias…" Saige warns. "Please, stop."
"Stop what? I'm not doing anything."
"You're acting weird. It's making me uncomfortable."
"Elias, why don't you take your plate up to your room?" my dad suggests.
"I'm just being nice. How is that weird?"
"Because you're not nice!" Carrie snaps. "You're cruel and disgusting, and you despise my daughter. So, what do you want? Why are you doing this? Are you the one who did this to her?!"
"Mom, he didn't do it…"
"You don't know that for sure."
"I do. I remember; I know you guys think I don't, but I do. I know what happened. Elias saved me."
"I would never do something like that to Saige."
"Oh, please! You've terrorized both of us—especially her—for two years.
And you're not going to do it anymore. I'm done playing nice with you.
You can stay tonight because you're drunk or whatever, and for some reason, you're still drinking, but after that, you need to stay the hell away from my daughter. "
I scoff. "Well, how nice of you to invite me to stay the night at my own house."
"It's not your house, Elias," my dad says. "It's my house." Then he moves to Carrie's side and adds, "It's our house."
Well, isn't that fucking cute?
I'm so goddamn angry, I could tear the fucking kitchen apart, but I look at Saige instead—at her sad, tired amber eyes, begging me to stop.
Damn it.
I grind my teeth. I'd love to think she'd thank me later for this—on her fucking knees—but I doubt I'll get that lucky. Not yet, at least.
"Cool, well, I was going to go to my room, anyway.
I don't know why you'd think I'd want to stay down here with you guys.
" I grab another beer and then pile three more butter tarts onto my plate.
It pisses Carrie off—I can practically see the steam coming from her ears—and that brings me a small bit of satisfaction.
"I bet these taste like shit," I say as I leave the kitchen.
"Thanks. I made them," Saige says.
"In that case, I'm sure they taste like heaven, baby."
I smile as I head up the staircase to my bedroom with Arcadia at my heels. Maybe I shouldn't have said it, but…I'm sure it pissed them all off, just like I wanted it to. They need to understand Saige is mine just as much as she does.
Before I close my bedroom door, they start talking again.
"Stay away from him," Carrie says.
"Mom, I've never done anything to invite his attention in my life."
Bullshit.
"You were hanging around Dax."
"Yeah, well, I'm not now. And I don't want to talk about him." Her voice cracks a little. Again, it makes me uncomfortable—it's the same way I've felt these past weeks watching Dax break down.
It's the same tone, the same pain.
But they'll get over it.
"Is Dax the one who sent that video of you?"
"Oh, my god, Mom, no. I told you I don't want to talk about the video anymore. It's fucking humiliating, and it's my trauma. Please, stop making it worse."
"Carrie," my dad cautions, "let's change the subject."
"Fine, just…don't sleep with people who don't like you, Saige. I mean, Jesus."
It's quiet for a minute before Saige says, "I thought he did like me, Mom."
Ouch. But I do like her. I love her.
"Carrie, you're angry at Elias, and you're taking it out on her. She was attacked; she was violated and then she was almost abducted. She didn't ask for any of that. Leave her alone."
"You're right. You're right—I'm sorry. Oh, you know what I read this morning?"
"What?" Saige asks.
"Apparently, there was a grad student at West Pine whose fiancé went missing last year.
He went looking for her, and no one heard from him for months.
The poor kid just turned up with amnesia.
He has no idea what happened to him while he was gone; they had to tell him about his fiancé all over again. "
No…fucking…way. There's no way.
"That's terrible," my dad says.
I take out my phone and search for West Pine grad student amnesia, and sure enough, it's fucking Miles. How the fuck is it Miles?
I quickly send the article to Dax and Nolan.
"I've got to be honest—it doesn't make me feel great about you going back this week." She waits for Saige to answer, and when she doesn't, she adds, "Saige? Did you hear me?"
"Um…you know what? I actually don't feel so great. I think I'm going to go lie down," Saige tells her.
"Are you sure? How's your vision? Are you drinking enough water?"
"Oh, my god, Mom. Yes, I'm drinking enough water, and my vision is fine. You're just overwhelming me. I need some space. I need rest."
"All right, well…I'll come check on you before I go to bed, okay?"
"Fine."
I step into my room, quietly closing the door before Saige gets to the staircase. Seconds later, her footsteps cross the threshold, and after scarfing down a couple of butter tarts and chasing them with a beer, I creep down the hall toward her bedroom.
She's talking to someone. I press my ear against the door and hear Nolan's muffled voice, but can't quite make out what they're saying.
It's moderately frustrating. If she's scared—if she wants to talk to someone about Miles, I'm right here.
I wait for her to hang up, and then turn the knob, dart inside the room, and lock the door behind me. Saige lies on her bed in the dark with the television on and the curtains pulled open, allowing moonlight into the room.
She doesn't bother looking at me.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"Did you know about Miles?"
"No. Not until right now." I stretch out next to her on the small daybed, my legs hanging over the end. "You can't text about him."
"I'm not stupid, Elias."
"I don't think you're stupid, baby. I'm just worried about you."
"Don't call me that. Especially not in front of our parents—what's wrong with you?"
"Saige…" I try grabbing her hand, but she rips it away, folding her arms in front of her chest.
"Maybe this is good. If he's alive, then I didn't kill anyone. And he doesn't remember what happened with either of us. It's a reset."
"I don't think so; I think he's lying, and he did this to you. I just can't figure out why he'd decide to show his fucking face now. But I will."
"What do you want, Elias? Why are you here?"
"You know what I want—I want you."
"That doesn't make any sense. I mean, what are you? A sadist or something?"
My knee-jerk reaction is to take offense and tell her no, but that I'm happy to show her what real fucking sadism looks like.
I picture her with tears and snot running down her face, and then my dick goes rock fucking hard, and I wonder if she's right.
I've never really spent much time thinking about why I enjoy treating Saige the way I do—why it's the only thing that makes me come anymore—but maybe that's because I didn't want to know.
I don't hate her. I never fucking hated her. I love her, and even now, I want her the same way I wanted her before.
Messy. Pathetic. Humiliated by how weak she is for my dick, for my cruelty.
"Probably," I tell her.
"What? Are you serious?"
"I mean, maybe. Yeah, at least a little bit."
"Well, I didn't consent to be part of your kink, Elias!"
I exhale heavily. "I know. I don't really think I understood what I was doing…or why I was doing it."
"That doesn't make it okay."
"I fucking know. I'm sorry. Not for all of it—but I'm sorry I hurt you."
"You know what the worst part is? When we were playing hockey together, I started thinking we were friends. I mean, how fucked up is that? How messed up am I?"
"I felt that, too, but I don't want to be your friend, Saige."
I know it isn't what she wants to hear, but it's the truth. I can't be her friend…or her brother. Not when I need her the way I do.
"So, was the video part of it, then?"
"Saige…no. I told you I had nothing to do with the video. If I did, I wouldn't lie about it, and I think you know that. It must have been him—he must have been in the house the night of the party."
I watch her blink, sending two thick tears rolling down her cheeks. The sight makes my dick so hard it aches. I wipe one away with my thumb, licking it before leaning into her, inhaling her scent. "You look so fucking sexy when you cry."
I slide my hand across her stomach and then dip it inside the waistband of her underwear, my fingertips just barely grazing her pussy before she pulls me back.
"Elias, stop."
I sigh, looking up at the ceiling. "I don't know what to do. I can't think about anything but you."
"Well, try harder."
"Saige, I have. You have no idea how hard I've tried to think about anything or anyone other than you."
"Jesus, Elias." She exhales slowly, shaking her head. "If you are…the way you are…then when we…"
"When we what? Fucked?"
"Is this what you wanted to happen? You wanted to see me cry? Did you want me to hate it?"
I turn onto my side, propping my head on my hand. "No. It's not like that, Saige. I want you addicted to my cock. I want you weak for it. I mean, fuck, I want you to love me…like I love you."
"What about the stuff you said to me in those messages?"
"What do you mean? What about them?"
"I remember how you were with the knife—do you really want to hurt me like that? You want to shove a knife down my throat and cut things off me?"
My eyebrows pinch together. Is she fucking serious? "No…of course not. Not at all."
"But you enjoyed sending them to me, right? The same way you like watching me cry?"
"I—" Yeah, I did. I like the idea of her tied to my bed, terrified and helpless, tear streaks on her cheeks while I trace her body with the blade. I liked watching the color drain from her face when she read the texts and thinking of her walking around campus in constant fear.
I like all of that the same way I like the crying. But I'd never actually hurt her like that. And for the most part, the texts were a means to an end.
"I just wanted you with me. I wanted to scare you so you'd think you had no other choice but to rely on me, and you wouldn't want to leave the house. But it made me come, too; I won't lie about it. I don't want to lie to you anymore."
I push my fingers through her hair, and she grabs my hand, stopping me again, and holds it between us.
"They, um, they had to shave some of my hair in the back so they could treat the injury." She pauses, her voice cracking. "And there's a scar; I had to have staples, and hair won't grow there anymore. I have a bald spot. And I can't even cry about it because it makes your fucking dick hard."
Saige turns over, facing the wall, and curls into herself, sobbing silently.
I wrap my arm around her body and hold her against my chest, aware she can probably feel my erection against her ass, but it's honest, and I can't help it.
I think about the time I spanked her until I came in my pants—she cried then, too—and fight the urge to slip my hand inside her shirt and pinch her nipples until she yelps.
"It's okay. You can cry about it if you want, but you're still beautiful.
I wouldn't care if you didn't have any hair. "
"You're a really fucked up person."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"I hate you so fucking much."
"I know you do, baby; it's okay." She doesn't shrug me off or tell me to stop, so I lie there, holding her.
Minutes go by like this, the room silent aside from the television, before she speaks again.
"I lost one of my molars, too. They found it in the alley. I cleaned it up and put it in a box in my desk."
"I've always thought you'd look better with fewer teeth, too."
"That's not funny, Elias; it's traumatizing. And you didn't believe me when I told you someone was following me. You were too busy sending me all of those sick fucking messages."
She isn't wrong. I didn't believe her because I knew the messages were me. But there's nothing I can do about that now.
"Saige, I love you—"
"Don't! Don't do that." Now she shoves me away, sitting up and bringing her knees to her chest. "Stop saying that. It's sick."
Sighing, I pull myself up and place a hand on her cheek. "Please, give me a chance, Saige. I love you so much. If you do, I promise I'll never leave you, and I'll never cheat. I can make you happy."
"Elias, you ruined my life."
"You are my life. You're my whole fucking world."
"I need you to get out of my room now."
"Saige…"
"No. I have a concussion; I can't talk to you right now."
"I'll stop talking. You can sleep. I just want to be with you."
"That's fucked up." She bites back a sob, covering her face again.
"It's not," I whisper. "It's not fucked up. I just need to be close to you. I feel so much better when I'm close to you…I think it might fix me."
"I'm not responsible for fixing you! I want you to leave, Elias. Leave now, or I'll scream."
"Okay…okay, that's fine. You don't have to scream; you don't need to be scared of me. I'll go. If you need anything, I'll just be down the hall." I pause for a minute, waiting for her reply, but I don't get one. "Good night, Saige."
After kissing the back of her head, I leave the room. It's not what I wanted, but if I'm honest with myself, it's what I expected, and it might be better than I deserve.
When I open my bedroom door, Arcadia rushes down the hall toward Saige's room and looks at me, waiting to be let in.
Yeah, all right. Fine.
I open it just enough for her to slip inside and then close it behind her.
Then, I lie in bed with my beer and butter tarts and try to figure out what the fuck we're going to do about Miles.