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And then there’s Dominic, willfully tossing away everything I crave as if it means nothing. He was supposed to understand me. He was supposed to care about clawing back some kind of family from the carnage of both our parents’ broken marriages. But he cares as little as they do, not bothering to stick around and be the comforting presence I’d always hoped he’d grow into when we were younger. A protective older brother, or a like-minded best friend, who knows what I wanted from him…
Fact is, he doesn’t give a shit.
I throw the pillow back off my face, dangerously close to smothering myself if I’d clung to it much longer. As I lie here, panting slightly, the sounds of the present grow muffled and indistinct. Instead, I hear the jarring slam of a door, the eerie creek of old floorboards under encroaching footsteps.
The memory swims in front of my open eyes before I can shove it back in a box I usually keep firmly locked, as vivid as if it were happening all over again…
I’m curled up on our worn sofa, blissfully lost in the pages of my latest obsession–a dog-eared copy ofWuthering Heights.The house is quiet, and my parents have long since left for their usual Friday night dinner. I’ve just reached the chapter where the mysterious Heathcliff returns after a long absence, when the front door swings open and clatters against the hallway wall.
I almost leap out of my skin before Dominic appears in the living room doorway, his presence seeping into my peace like a gathering storm cloud. He leans against the jamb, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk playing at his full lips.
“Another fun-filled Friday night for the bookish loner, huh?” he drawls, eyeing me with piercing disdain I’ve grown so accustomed to over the years.
“Leave me alone, Dom,” I grumble, rolling my eyes before lowering them again, determined to focus on my novel and not my asshole stepbrother.
He ignores my dismissal, of course, pushing off the doorframe and stepping closer. “Aw, don’t be like that, Shy Girl. I’m just concerned about your glaring lack of a social life. It’s not normal for a girl to be so isolated at fifteen. You should be having sleepovers and practicing kissing with your girly friends.”
My fingers tighten on the edges of my book, my jaw clenching as I try desperately to ignore him. “I said, leave me alone.”
“You know,” Dom continues, as if I hadn’t spoken at all, “if you won’t leave the house of your own accord…” He trails off, disappearing into the hallway and leaving me with the creeping feeling that he’s not even close to being done. When he reappears only seconds later, that feeling turns to ice in my veins.
In his hands is my dad’s baseball bat, the one he leaves by the door as if he expects to one day use it on an intruder. Dom smacks the wood against his palm a couple of times, the harsh slap ringing out in the suddenly too-quiet room. His eyes, dark and menacing, lock onto mine.
“… maybe you need some motivation.”
“Dom… n-not now. I d-don’t want to.”
He simply sneers, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper when he simply answers, “I’ll give you a thirty second head start.”
For the span of a single heartbeat, I’m rooted in place. Then, familiar adrenaline floods my system and I’m moving. Ivault over the back of the sofa, my forgotten book tumbling to the floor. Dom’s laughter booms behind me as I sprint through the house, my bare feet slapping almost painfully against the floorboards.
I burst through the back door, silently praying that he’ll deem this a worthy example of leaving the house and leave me be. Of course, I’m hoping in vain. I can already hear Dom behind me, his longer strides eating up the distance between us as I race across the backyard.
The fence looms ahead and I push myself harder, gritting my teeth against the bite of the cold ground beneath my feet. I leap, my fingers barely scraping the rough wood before I’m stumbling on the other side. The woods that border our small patch of land rush up to meet me, my only hope of maybe finding somewhere to hide. I throw myself into the dense tangle of trees and shadows without hesitation, branches whipping at my face and arms as I run.
My lungs burn, a heady blend of fear and exhaustion making each breath a battle of pure will. Dom’s footsteps are getting closer. I risk a glance over my shoulder and instantly regret it.
He’s rightthere.
I turn back with a whimper, narrowly avoiding colliding headfirst with a tree. But the slip costs me the last of my head start. Dom tackles me from behind, dragging me to the ground in a tangle of limbs. He flips me onto my back, pinning my arms above my head as sharp twigs and rocks stab into my skin.
I can only glare up at him, my chest heaving as I try and gulp down the oxygen I need to stay conscious. He looms over me, a predatory, almost maniacal grin splitting his face. And his eyes…those dark pits seem to burn with something I can’t name, something that sends a thrill dancing along the edges of my fear.
“Better luck next time, Shy Girl,” he taunts me, digging his knees into my ribs just to demonstrate how helplessly he has me pinned. For a moment, we stay like that, the only sound our ragged breaths and the crunch of the forest floor beneath us.
And then, all at once, the game is over. The thrill seems to die in Dom’s eyes, reducing them again to hardened onyx. He pushes himself to his feet, sparing me one last mocking glance before turning and striding back to the house as if nothing had happened.
I don’t know how long I stay there, staring at the tree canopy. Only when my heart has relaxed to a normal pace, and the chill of the ground beneath my thin T-shirt becomes too painful to bear, do I haul myself up and trudge back the same way on aching feet.
I snap back to the present with a jolt. My hands fly to my cheeks, feeling a traitorous heat blooming there. My heart is racing, and I’m not sure if it’s the lingering memory or…something else entirely.
Huffing a frustrated sigh, I lean over and flick off my bedside lamp. The darkness settles over me like a heavy weight that feels more ominous than comforting. Rest eludes me. Despite the alcohol, I toss and turn and tangle myself in the sheets.
When sleep finally does seize me, I dream of running through dark woods. The vision warps and remakes itself over and over again. Sometimes it’s the memory of Dom chasing me, our old Run and Hide game in full swing. Sometimes I’m the one pursuing him. And others, we’re fleeing together from some faceless threat.
But always,always, it ends with us tangled together on the forest floor, Dom’s dark eyes boring into mine, my breath catching in my throat.
I wake with the dawn, a deathly headache pounding behind my eyes. I’m lost in a haze as a ghastly hangover pins me down–rather than the shadow of my stepbrother.
