Scarlett
The cinema is dark, the air heavy with buttered popcorn and stale soda — the low murmur of trailers buzzing around us. Tyler sits beside me, close, his arm brushing mine every time he shifts.
I dressed up for this. Tight jeans, a low-cut top, makeup sharp enough to make me feel like I could be anyone else for a night. Not Kai’s stepsister. Not the girl who cried herself to sleep. Just… normal.
But nothing feels normal.
I stiffen, a nervous laugh catching in my throat. ‘Thanks.’
His hand finds my thigh in the dark, fingers drumming, inching higher. I push it back — light, playful. He chuckles, but it doesn’t sound like the boy who used to help me with homework or walk me home from school. It’s lower. Rougher.
‘I can’t stop staring at your tits,’ he whispers, his hand creeping back up. ‘You know I’ve wanted to fuck you for years, right?’
My stomach lurches. The words are too sharp, too sudden. I glance at him, startled. ‘Tyler—what the hell?’
He smirks, eyes glinting in the flickering light of the screen. ‘What? Don’t tell me you don’t enjoy hearing it. You dressed like this for me.’
Heat rushes up my neck — not the good kind. Not the kind Kai drags out of me no matter how much I hate it. This is different. Ugly.
I shift away, my chest tight, the movie blurring in front of me because Tyler isn’t who I thought he was, and I don’t like who he’s turning into.
The movie flickers on — voices low and distant — but all I can feel is Tyler’s hand creeping higher on my thigh.
‘Tyler,’ I hiss, shoving at his wrist. ‘Stop.’
He just grins, leaning closer, his breath hot against my cheek. ‘C’mon, Scarlett. Don’t play innocent with me. You’ve been teasing me for years.’
My stomach twists. ‘That’s not true.’
His hand drags higher, brushing the inside of my thigh. ‘Wearing that top, sitting here all pretty next to me — you wanted this. You wanted me to finally make a move.’
I jerk my legs closed, but he wedges his hand between them anyway, his palm pressing firm against the heat of my jeans. ‘Fuck, you’re warm already,’ he whispers, teeth grazing my ear. ‘Bet you’re soaked for me, huh? Bet you’ve thought about me fucking you in this exact seat.’
Rage spikes white-hot. Shame floods through me. My pulse pounds in my throat. For a second, I freeze — stunned by the ugliness of his words, the way his fingers squeeze like he’s got a right to me.
And then I snap.
‘Get your fucking hands off me!’ I hiss, shoving him hard in the chest. The seat rocks back, the people in the row behind us hissing complaints, but I don’t care. My whole body is shaking, my breath ragged, fury burning hotter than my shame.
Tyler stares at me, stunned for a beat, then his smirk twists back into place. ‘Feisty. I like it.’
I glare, teeth clenched, my voice a razor. ‘Touch me again and I’ll scream.’
For the first time, his grin falters.
And I know I mean it.
Tyler chuckles low, the sound curling ugly in the dark. ‘Scream all you want, babe. Bet you’ll moan louder before the credits roll.’
His hand shoots back between my thighs before I can stop him — rough this time — his fingers pressing hard against the seam of my jeans. I jerk, gasping, but he clamps down, leaning close enough for his words to scrape my ear.
‘Fuck, Scarlett, I knew it. You’re wet already. Don’t lie. You’ve been dying for me to do this.’
I shove at his chest — hard — but he only laughs and digs his fingers in deeper, grinding against me like he owns me. ‘Can’t wait to feel you without the denim. Bet your pussy’s sweet as fuck. I’ll make you beg for it.’
Rage tears through me, hot and blinding. ‘Stop it, Tyler!’
He smirks, teeth glinting. ‘Not until I taste what you’ve been hiding from me.’
And that’s when I break.
My fist flies before I even think, slamming into his shoulder, his smug face twisting in shock. He grabs at me again, rougher, but adrenaline is louder now. I wrench free, the seat rattling as I shove past him, my knee catching hard against his arm.
‘Don’t ever fucking touch me again!’ My voice cracks through the dark, heads whipping in our direction, but I don’t care.
I stumble down the steps, my whole body shaking, my cheeks burning with fury and shame. The movie’s still rolling on the screen, shadows flickering across my vision, but all I can hear is the thundering of my pulse and the echo of his filthy words.
My hands are shaking so badly I can hardly breathe as I force the doors open into the cold night.
All I can think is — I’d rather face Kai’s obsession than Tyler’s hands ever again.
The night air hits me like ice, but it doesn’t cool the burn under my skin. My cheeks are wet, my chest heaving, and no matter how hard I blink, the tears keep spilling.
What if I hadn’t hit him?
What if no one had been in that cinema?
What if Kai was right all along?
The thought twists cruelly inside me — hotter than the shame, heavier than the tears.
As the cab pulls up, my hands shake so violently that giving the driver the money is a struggle. Music pounds through the walls, lights spilling out of the windows — Kai’s party already in full swing.
I shove the door open, and it’s chaos. Bodies pressed together, laughter too loud, the stink of beer and smoke clouding the air. The floor vibrates under my feet.
And then his eyes find me.
Across the crush of people, Kai stands half in shadow, a drink in his hand, jaw tight, blue eyes sharp and unrelenting. They pin me where I stand — wide and wet — my chest tearing open as the tears I tried to bury spill harder.
For a second, I think he’s going to move, shove through the crowd, drag me out like he always does. But I can’t. I can’t face him, not like this.
I stumble forward, pushing past strangers, my vision blurred, the music thundering in my skull. My feet barely find the stairs, hands clutching the banister as I climb — step after step — until I reach the hallway.
And then I’m in my room, the door slamming shut behind me, my body collapsing against it, the tears flooding out of me until I can’t breathe.
No matter how much I wanted to prove him wrong… maybe Kai was right.
The music thunders through the floorboards, muffled laughter spilling up the stairs, but in here it’s just me — curled on the carpet, fists tangled in my hair, my breath tearing out in broken sobs.
And the worst part is the voice in my head isn’t Tyler’s.
It’s Kai’s.
You made your choice.
You wanted to pretend. You wanted normal.
You don’t make it easy.
My chest splinters around the memory, hot tears soaking my sleeves as the truth claws at me. Maybe he was right.
It was my fault.
I dressed up tonight — tight jeans, a low top, makeup sharp enough to cut. I wanted to look good. I wanted to feel wanted. I wanted to pretend I could be normal — and this is what I got.
I can still feel Tyler’s hand on my thigh, the rough press of his palm, the way his words dug filth into my ear. And I let it happen. I froze. I let him touch me until it was too late, until it took everything in me to fight him off.
If I hadn’t dressed like that, maybe he wouldn’t have tried.
If I hadn’t agreed to come, maybe it wouldn’t have happened at all.
If I hadn’t been so desperate to prove Kai wrong…
A sob chokes me raw. I press my forehead to my knees, shaking so hard I can barely hold myself together.
Because the ugliest thought of all is the one I can’t shake — Kai was right.
He warned me, but I didn’t listen.
Now I’m alone — broken, drowning in shame I can’t wash off — wondering if maybe this is what I deserve.