#MY MUM. MY SAVING GRACE. told him AGAIN “no. you cannot drink it. it's not yours”

[djevelbl]

My dad just came into my room to ask me if he could drink one of the small sodas I have in the fridge (haven't gotten around to watching the trsmp end event vods lmao), telling me he can replace whatever he drinks bc he has the money...

SIR. IF U CAN BUY IT URSELF THEN WHY TF ARE U ASKING IF U CAN DRINK MY SHIT. GO BUY IT FOR URSELF TOMORROW LIKE THE FUCKING REST OF US 😭😭😭

[dumdumsun]

And Dusk

A/N: One of my favorites. Enjoy ❤️

Warnings: mentions of violence

Word Count: 2780

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Chapter 8: Tell Me, Muse

After an awkward-turned-heartfelt conversation between the reunited Allison and Luther about how good they were and the former’s marriage, the two slowly leaned away from each other on their own sides of the table. Allison decided to break the short silence between them. “Have you, um, heard from any of the others? Vanya?”

“Uh, on a farm,” Luther answered with raised brows. “And happy.”

Allison nodded, brows furrowed. “Right… Weird… Uh, Diego?”

“Nuthouse. Klaus?”

“Cult leader.”

“Eh,” He shrugged, Allison laughing aloud. “And, uh, Five turned up a few days ago. What about (Y/N)? You know anything about her?”

Allison froze, her mouth opening and closing. “I… I was hoping you’d know… Five doesn’t?”

“No, he hasn’t found her yet.” Luther’s expression saddened as Allison stared down at the table with a solemn look. “Hey… we’ll find her. She’s tough as nails. I’m sure she’s doing just fine.”

Allison glanced up at him, trying a smile. “Yeah… Yeah, I hope so…”

-------------------------------------------------

“I don’t see Dad anywhere.” Diego said as he, Lila and Five stood in the midst of the gala. Five turned to him, glass in his hand.

“Just keep an eye out for the Majestic Twelve. I got the upstairs,” When his brother turned away, Five caught his attention again. “Diego, try not to do anything too stupid.” He nodded before taking off, eliciting a soft chuckle from Lila.

Just as the boy ascended the stairs, (Y/N) and Preston had just passed the bottom to slip past Diego and Lila. Preston, after setting the girl’s drink down wherever, held her by the hand and led her to the middle of the dance floor. The two got into position before moving to the beat of the music. Preston tried more than once to steal a kiss, but she would lean away or turn her head in a different direction as if something caught her eye. To say he was getting frustrated was an understatement. She could tell by the quiet huffs through his nose.

“They’re playing our song.” Lila whispered before grabbing Diego by his tie, dragging him onto the dance floor. The only thing separating Diego and (Y/N) was an elderly couple dancing between them. But Diego was too immersed in his dance with Lila to notice his sister. He spun his ‘crazy lady’ around a couple times, causing her to grin. “You’ve got moves.”

“My father insisted on ballroom lessons,” Diego informed before horribly imitating Reginald. “‘One never knows when the paso doble will be the difference between life and death’,” He quoted before slowly dipping Lila. “‘Children’.”

“My mum used to say something along those lines.” Lila whispered, gently pushing his hair back.

“Yeah?” He smiled, eyes moving up when a blur of orange got his attention. He nearly dropped Lila onto the floor when they landed on the person who adorned that color.

“Preston, I don’t think you’ve even applied any of our lessons to our dance.” (Y/N) muttered to her date, who smirked and rolled his eyes. “And why does it seem like you don’t care? I kinda need for you to actually do something right so my dad won’t be on my ass after this.”

“Your dad is nowhere near.” Preston whispered, moving even closer. The girl scoffed and flicked his nose with her fingers. He gasped and hissed as he scrunched up his nose, but before he could scold her about her poor manners, she was pulled out of his hold. Milliseconds later, Lila was spun into Preston’s arms, the boy instinctively holding onto her so she wouldn’t fall. The two stared at each other in confusion and slight disgust as she slowly nodded.

“What a party.”

(Y/N) held onto whoever saved her from her unbearable date, her grip so tight that he softly hissed. Snapping her head up, she gasped at the sight of her brother staring at her with wide eyes and a bright smile. “Diego…”

“Hey, sis.” He wasted no time in crushing her into a hug. Happily laughing, she returned the comfort. Upon close inspection, Lila identified her target. And now she knew that she was important to Diego. The siblings naturally fell into a waltz that Diego flowed along nicely with.

“Look at you, big brother,” (Y/N) laughed. “Not so robotronic anymore, huh?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, it’s been years since I’ve been your dance partner. I had to show you someday. How long have you been here? In Dallas?”

“Since late 1961. You?”

“Got here over two months ago. Shit, you’ve been here awhile… How are you holding up?”

“What do you think?” She chuckled and spun herself under his arm. He got a glimpse of her outfit and hummed.

“Not too bad, I see.” He became serious and leaned in closer. “(Y/N), listen to me, alright? Five was the last of us to get here-”

“Five?” (Y/N)’s steps stuttered a bit, but Diego got them back on beat. “You saw Five?”

He nodded. “But that’s not it. He told me-”

Diego was cut off yet again when (Y/N) was spun out of his hold, replaced by Lila. The woman simply shrugged and nodded towards Preston, who was now holding (Y/N) close and glaring at Diego. He returned the glare before Lila turned his chin so he was facing her. “She’s a little young for you, yeah?”

“What? No, gross. That’s my sister.” He shook his head. Lila raised her brows and led the two in a dance.

“A little sister? How cute…”

“She’s not as little as you think.” He chuckled. “There’s a lot of… interesting things about my family.”

“I didn’t notice.” She giggled, the two of them inching closer until their lips nearly grazed each other. Once again, a certain someone caught Diego’s eye, and Lila noticed. “Well, you are easily distracted.”

But he wasn’t listening to her. “It can’t be…” He whispered before slipping away from Lila, leaving her alone on the dance floor. His journey to Grace seemed to go in slow motion, the man slipping between bodies and clearing the path until she was all he saw. When she turned to him, he was transfixed. It was Grace. His mother who he shut off. “Mom…” He whispered, the woman giving him a look.

“Well, that isn’t the first time I’ve heard that,” Her Texas drawl threw him off a bit. Of course. This was the actual Grace. When Diego’s face dropped in realization, she became more perplexed. “Everything alright, hun?”

With a small smile, Diego stepped closer. “You’re real…”

Nervously chuckling, Grace shifted in her place, blinking rapidly. “If this is your idea of a come-on, it’s not goin’ well.”

“No,” Diego stuttered. “Uh, do… Do you know a… a man named Sir Reginald Hargreeves?” He questioned, crossing his arms.

“Reggie? He’s my date this evenin’.”

Diego raised his brows and widened his eyes. “Your date…?” His expression fell into disgust when Grace nodded in confirmation. At his grimace, she shook her head.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“No. No, no, it’s… it’s just, uh… It’s just a lot to process. The… The thought of the two of you… I can’t picture that in my head. That is… That’s nasty.”

Sighing, Grace tried to make sense of this entire conversation. “You’re a little odd, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Diego smiled up at her, enjoying the sound of her soft laugh before his expression fell. “I mean no. Uh… Do you know where he is?”

“He said somethin’ about a quick meetin’, and he’d be right back. That was twenty minutes ago.”

Diego stared at her with a judging look. But not in judgment of her. “Never good to keep a lady waiting.”

“Tell him that if you find him.” Grace lifted her drink before walking past Diego. She was almost out of sight when he called out to her by her name. Not remembering giving it to him, she turned with guarded confusion. But he only gave her a gentle look.

“It was nice meeting you.”

“You, too.”

Meanwhile, (Y/N) had managed to slip away from Preston, making an excuse to head to the little girls’ room. Unbeknownst to him, she walked in the entire opposite direction, swiftly falling into step beside Lila. “Sorry about that whole switcheroo situation. My brother seems to think with anything but his head.”

“Yes, I noticed,” She smiled, reaching her hand out to shake. “I’m Lila.”

“(Y/N).” The girl shook her hand. Lila’s eyes scanned her up and down as she assessed her.

“My, my, you are cute, aren’t you?”

Thrown off a bit, (Y/N) chuckled and slowly took her hand back. “Thank you? So, how’d you and Diego meet?” She asked as the two of them linked arms.

“The asylum.”

“Lovely.”

-------------------------------------------------

Blinking into a closet inside the meeting room of the Majestic Twelve, Five adjusted his eyes to the darkness and peered in through the small space he had.

“The president is continuing to make inquiries into Roswell and the other crash sites, gentlemen,” One of the men spoke. “And, as you know, we cannot allow him to get his nose into our business.”

As he continued, Five noticed one of the Twelve delicately cleaning a monocle, urging the boy to lean in closer. “I’ve confirmed the motorcade will indeed be turning left on Elm Street. We’ll have our people in place.”

“Gentlemen,” The familiarity of the British accent startled Five for a mere second, but he only pressed himself closer. “This plan of yours seems ill-timed.”

“It’s going to be a turkey shoot.” Another of the Twelve commented just before Five had gotten too invested and unintentionally made noise with a hanger, causing the men to tense and whirl towards the closet. When the face of Sir Reginald Hargreeves came into view, Five could only stare in shock.

“Dad…?”

Reginald shushed the men and stalked towards the fireplace, grabbing one of the pokers and heading straight for the closet. Five and Reginald stood before each other in silence. One unknowing, one not. The next second, Reginald stabbed through the closet, intentionally trying to harm whoever was on the other side. When he opened the door, though, no one was there.

Five blinked into the hallway and exhaled, straightening his uniform before spinning around. Stood before him was one of the Swedish assassins. The boy cursed to himself before he was grabbed and thrown against the wall. Before he could be thrown into the other, he blinked through it and then behind the man, kicking him in the back of the knee and sending him to the ground. Five jumped onto his back and attempted to snap his neck, but the man was much stronger than the boy anticipated. So, he was flipped over and onto his back. Before the Swede could land a punch to his face, Five blinked behind him again. When he saw that he couldn’t successfully fight back, he tried again to blink, but the energy of his power only sputtered. Much like when he first arrived in the apocalypse. He was drained. When he looked up, the man was much closer than before. “Oh, shit…” The boy muttered before receiving a punch to the face.

In search of Lila, Diego rushed up the stairs and turned the corner, only to find his brother getting pummeled by one of the gunmen he had the pleasure of meeting during his asylum escape. Diego began to move towards Five, but was pulled back when a belt came around his throat and constricted his airway. He struggled with all his might, but his attacker did not relent. Moving to stand in front of him was the other gunman, now wearing brass knuckles on one of his hands. Rearing his arm back, he forcefully rammed the knuckles into Diego’s gut, then his face. Diego used his legs to kick the man away and send him to his knees. Taking out one of his knives, he launched it towards him, but it missed his target completely. He was focused enough on the third Swede continuing to choke him. Diego was dragged down the opposite end of the hall as Five, as the Swede with the brass knuckles landed his weapon on the poor man over and over.

Just in time, (Y/N) and Lila reached the hallway, both of them immediately turning in Diego’s direction. The young girl gasped and rushed to her brother without hesitation. Remembering her ‘side gig’, Lila quickly grabbed a hold of her arm, but turned in the opposite direction upon hearing a groan. Her eyes zeroed on Five being punched, kicked, thrown, and her mother’s voice rang in her head.

“Protect Number Five at all costs.”

So, she let (Y/N) go, the young girl never removing her gaze from her brother. The two females seemed to have had the same idea of kicking off their heels, but (Y/N) took her second one into her hand and launched the heel into the face of the man who was choking Diego. Her brother greedily took gulps of air into his lungs as she tackled the man to the ground. He was the shortest of the three, so he was the best she’d get to an equal opponent. (Y/N) sent punch after punch to his face, her small hands forcing themselves around his throat and squeezing. She watched as his reddened face began to pale the harder she squeezed, and right when she thought he’d pass out, he tangled their legs together and flipped them over. The back of her head hit the floor, a groan escaping her lips before she got her treatment right back to her. Lifting her by the throat, the Swede swung her around and pinned her to the wall.

“Eat shit and die…” She gasped out around his hand. He only clenched his jaw and slammed her head against the wall so hard she was beginning to see stars. Diego kicked his own opponent away before grabbing his sister’s attacker by the hair and tugging him back. Barely giving herself time to breathe, (Y/N) grabbed the shortest Swede by his suit lapels and, with all the force her worn-out body could muster, swung him into the wall. She heard a crack when the back of his head hit the wall, the man slumping to the floor. Turning to Diego, the two breathlessly smiled at each other before a voice called out.

“(Y/N)?! Honey, where are you? We need to go!”

“Shit.” She muttered before grabbing her heels and rushing down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, Preston was there to catch her before she could stumble down the last few steps. Silently, she dropped her heels to the ground and held onto him for balance as she slipped them on.

“(Y/N), what the hell happened to you? I thought you went to the bathroom.” Preston held her by the waist.

“Uh, I got lost?”

“Well, we’ve gotta go, your mom is worried sick.” He grabbed her hand and rushed them out of the building. Just after Five had looked away from the window where he’d spotted Grace and Reginald, (Y/N) and Preston had just been approaching said adults. Grace let go of Reginald’s hand and gasped aloud, hugging her daughter close.

“Where were you? We couldn’t find you anywhere, darlin’.”

(Y/N) quietly chuckled as her father guided them to their awaiting car. “I, uh… got lost leaving the bathroom.” She lied as Preston held the door open for her. The last person to get in the car was Reginald, but just when he opened the door, a familiar voice sounded.

He turned in the direction of someone calling out to him in Ancient Greek. (Y/N) sat up quickly and tried to look out of Preston’s window, but he was blocking her view. That voice…

“Reggie,” Grace sighed. “What are you waitin’ for? We need to go.”

Without another word, Reginald climbed inside the car beside Grace. As they drove away, (Y/N)’s eyes never strayed from Preston’s window. “Dad, who was that?”

“No one important.” He dismissed, but she didn’t give up yet.

“Why did he recite the Odyssey?”

“I’m not sure-”

“And in Ancient Greek?”

“(Y/N), my child,” Her father exasperatedly sighed. “I do not know. It is nothing for you to worry about. So, stop fretting.”

The girl clutched her dress in both her fists, harshly biting her lip. Because there were only so many people she knew, besides herself, who could recite Homer in Ancient Greek.

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Taglist: @unfortu-nate-ly @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @sm0kingcrack @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @starstormssymphony @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @simping-4-fictional-men @hehehehannahthings @harrystylescherrie @rhain3 @himikaphoo @zerocanonlywriteshit @xxeiraxx @camerondiaz48104 @isawachickeninatree @theyaremorethanjustfictional @that-can-of-fizz

[fymagnificentwomcn]

Farya was not only a bad and unnecessary character, but was also sooo annoying, not only for me?

I mean…

outside how her character was out of the place, she wasn’t even likeable? My mum knew nothing of Ottoman history & how her character is so ahistorical and she hated Floprya so much, you cannot imagine.

Her ranting that if Mu/rat does not kill Ayşe, she will do it herself & being all “Damn ilahtar and Kösem, they will try to convince Murad not to kill Ayşe, and otherwise he’s so merciless DANG”.

Her feeling of superiority and being special truly shows you why she had best relations with

Mu/rat and Atike in the palace lmao.

She’s also repeatedly completely ignorant of Ottoman system & yet thinks she can be Valide (ater)?

Kösem, Gevherhan, and Ayşe told her multiple times how it works and what might ultimately befall her. Of course Ayşe wanted to just piss her off, but she actually told her truth – Murad was keeping her as his mistress closed in golden cage and just waiting when he decides to grace her with his presence, mostly at night to have some fun ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) . Living outside harem meant that (surprise!) She had a worse situation than slave Ayşe, who had an acknowledged & legitimate position as haseki and mother of princes. Being a foreign princess meant nothing there – she was kept in hiding, had no clear position in Murad’s life, and was actually living in sin with Mu/rat (yes, Murad was so mad about Kasim breaking the rules, but he was doing something far more scandalising himself when it came to sexual propriety & he was the ruling padişah). Her being so happy about not being placed in harem initially & thinking how she was so special she was given a separate palace.. shows precisely how ignorant she was of the system she CHOSE to live in.

Kösem and Gevherhan warned her how not having a kids meant she would later fade into obscurity & even legal marriage could not change it – she completely dismissed it because of “their great luv” & stuff.

Kösem knew Murad much better than Floprya did LBR and when she said his “great luv” would pass, she knew what she was talking about – she was even shocked when Mu/rat gifted Farya with necklace because it wasn’t in his nature to do romantic gestures and caring about giving his women gifts. And even if you don’t trust these women because they don’t like you much, look at how this man is truly behaving towards you (if you ignore his behaviour towards Ayşe because yes we know you are a special snowflake).

Ignoring stuff such as period-appropriate behaviour (Murad laughing at Farya wanting to command an Ottoman army, I guess even less misogynistic men would laugh her off), he calls her his prisoner even before the pig incident, and afterwards…. 1) he hits her without even asking her why she put a freakin’ pig in; 2) keeps her wounded and bleeding in cell while making his decision, at the same time being all emo about how poor HE is because he loves this woman and she hurt HIM so; 3) when he (graciously, please everyone clap) decides to spare her, he doesn’t just let her go, he makes a show in which he scares her and “shows her her rightful place” aka on her knees before him; 3) continues to be offended and passive aggressive towards her afterwards; 4) gives her throne away behind her back without even asking her if she wants to stay with him; 5) rides after her, tells her “you slept with me, so you are my woman & you belong in my harem” & takes her on his horse forcefully (it doesn’t matter if she secretly wanted it inside); 6) didn’t explain why he gave her family’s throne to someone else even after he took her back to the palace, Atike had to do it; 7) yes, kept her without any status and intention to change it hidden in another palace, without any participation in his daily life and only visiting her when it suited him, not even sticking to any promises to come if he decided so, only the terrible incident with Farya’s miscarriage made him marry her and seeing how his “great luv” began to die after it, one does question whether it was out of love or him simply wanting to show everyone (both his mother and subjects) that he could do as he pleased, even against any rules; 6) he actually never promised her he would marry her and not have other women, it was only Farya always saying this – conversely, in MY Suleiman DID actually promise this to Hürrem and then did not keep it [doesn’t make Murad less of a dick, but shows how delusional Farya might be because he never actually said so himself or agreed to it].

And I said in one of my previous posts how Hürrem (and any harem women) weren’t homewreckers because it was indeed their only chance to have a family & love, but damn Floprya is a homewrecker because she truly didn’t have to stay with Mu/rat – she had her family, her throne, friends to come back to… please you knew what mess you created by coming there, and you had all the signs how violent this guy was and about his attitude to women… you could truly do a lot better, honey.

Murad never saw her as a consort of importance either. He never asked for her opinion on anything (he’d sooner even ask his mother) and when she got an accidental chance to say something (pleading with him not to execute a poor guy who forgot his lamp to bring his dad dinner, nota bene an incident described by Ottoman historian Mustafa Naima, just without Farya in the picture obviously), he completely ignored her and looked pissed she even dared to do so. It was frankly the only instance Floprya tried to talk Mu/rat out of something bad – even when he executed people who simply had been on the market during the attack on her (and even completely unrelated ones as later turned out), even though Kosem had already punished the actual attackers, our “kind-hearted” Floprya did nothing…. I’m not surprised he didn’t consult her before because he never does & well… talking sense to him never works because Kösem tried to reason with him it’s wrong, even for him because it provides people who want to go between him and ordinary people with great opportunity… and he didn’t give a fuck as always, but Farya never said anything, even following this? It was a matter closely connected with her and we never even see them talking about this or Floprya’s reaction to it? I can’t believe she didn’t hear about this… she likely just didn’t care.

Kösem also told her that marrying a sultan is not enough, and (since we know she couldn’t have kids) she should at least drag her ass and do something useful, like take care of people? Well, it was the only time we saw Floprya doing charity.

 Following the wedding, Mu/rat began to gradually lose interest in Farya, including going after Sanavber after he saw her with dagger pointed at him because it seems he has a dagger-fetish & now Floprya  even stopped wielding his favourite toy to have his attention… And again never forget Atike’s “Murad finally met a woman worthy of him, she can wield a sword like A MAN!” (STFU ALREADY ATIKE).

Speaking of Atike… Floprya encouraging Atike to pursue Silahtar even if it’s clear from Atike’s words he isn’t responsive to her, bah, even after it’s known he loves someone else… how stupid you can be to encourage Atike to get the guy who loves someone else and keep telling her again how special & daring she is, so go on and take what you want? Or Floprya threatening Silahtar to expose it was Gevherhan because he called her out on threatening Ayse at night with knife (yes, Ayşe was guilty, but there was no evidence at that point & it was not for her to go and punish somebody without evidence like that). He was just doing his job.

Farya later begins to openly mention her frustrations and how she’s now sidelined because she cannot have children… which of course makes her more the bitter and angry at Ayşe & striving towards revenge so bad – she  isn’t satisfied that Ayşe got exposed and would be punished, she wants her DEAD & would not accept any other option (never mind that poor, innocent children would be orphaned in such a case).

Even after  the matter is revealed and she does regret what she did, she’s as defensive as ever and tries to put all blame on depressed, abused woman aka Ayşe… she sees no fault of Mura/t’s there.

Still, she didn’t deserve execution for that, especially from hands of person who was chiefly responsible for the tragedy aka her husband… and her being pregnant saving her was meaningful.

Yet she continues to be ignorant about Ottoman system – now that Mura/t continues to pay her little attention even though she gave birth to two sons and instead spends time on drinking parties with Yusuf & other male buddies, she wants to be Valide and supports changing succession law back to the one involving fratricide… Okay, she doesn’t care about Murad’s brothers, but her own sons? Mu/rat being all “I don’t give a fuck” to Kösem pointing out one of his sons will kill the other is… well, him being himself, but Floprya should get worried about implications for her sons, right?

The scene with Sinan is SO indicative of Farya later on – she sits on balcony frustrated because she sits at palace all alone with her sons, while her hubby spends time on one of his parties & watching some (sexy!) dancer after promising her he would be now focused on his family (and even in that scene she still looked so scared of him), Sinan comes, calls her future "Valide Sultan”, she smirks, brightens up & already feels relevant and in better mood, so immediately does what he wants her to do and sends message to Mura/t about Kösem holding meeting with statesmen and ulema about changes in succession law.

Yet another win for Sinan!😂

Farya and Mu*rya stans claiming she was sooo "good-hearted” and they were equals.. were we watching the same show, eh? He didn’t treat her as her “equal” or whatever, even in “their best days”. The relationship was a disaster WAY before he tried to kill her.

I really never hated MY/K ship as much as I hated Mu*ya, a total disaster that really had nothing appealing to me – it was straight-up abusive plus it wasn’t even interesting. I swear even Mihrimah and Rüstem, while thouroughly dysfunctional, were more interesting to watch as a totally fucked up, toxic couple ugh.

- Joanna

Tagging @onlythelonelysurvive because it might be of interest to you and maybe take your mind off your worries :)

[ashswritingplace]

Perfect Harmony

This is another updated short story, this one about a man who explores his relationship with his siblings.

“Perfect Harmony”

Sunlight reaches across my face and scratches at my eyes, forcing them open. As I sit up to welcome a new day, silence whispers sweetly into my ears, my most intimate lover. It has always been a comfort to me, my closest friend, and I cannot imagine a day that does not start with it.

I was not born deaf. Childhood cancer stripped me of my hearing when I was young, and it forced my fight for many long years. I have been cancer-free for only two years, and all remnants of its grasp on my life are gone, save for my hearing.

I retained twenty percent of my hearing in my left ear and none of it in my right. That is what appears on my medical records, but in reality, my hearing is as temperamental as English weather. Sometimes, I seem to hear perfectly, while other days, I hear nothing at all. With the help of lipreading, sign language, and the hearing aids I rarely use, I easily pass as a hearing person.

The digital clock on my nightstand harshly illuminates the numbers 7:04. I pull the blankets from my body and groggily get up. I make my way to the bathroom down the hall.

My eyes give away how tired I am. For a moment, I debate going back to bed, but I doubt the sunlight would allow me to sleep easily now. I cast a hand across my jaw, wondering if I can get away with not shaving for another day. My hair reaches past my collar now; as a teenager, I preferred the lengthy curls to hide my hearing aids, and now, as an adult, I neglect my haircuts more out of habit than embarrassment.

When I finish in the bathroom, I return to my bedroom and pull on my clothes for the day. My hearing aids rest in the drawer of my nightstand, unnecessary until tonight. I comb my hair and apply my deodorant, all the while humming to myself. I cannot hear my song, but practicing my pitch is important for my work.

I have a concert tonight. It’s one I’ve been preparing for and looking forward to for a long time now. The sheet music dances in my head as I step in tune to a song no one can hear.

Growing up, I struggled to be taken seriously. A musician cannot improve if he cannot hear, I was told, time and time again. Adults laughed me out of piano recitals and music teachers made bad examples of me in class. It took years of trying for a teacher to believe in me. Mr. Tucker, a veteran and retired math teacher, was the only one to tell me I was a virtuoso, a prodigy, that I would make it far if I kept going. You have an advantage over the rest of us, Hunter, he would tell me. We learn to listen for what sounds right. You have to feel it. I don’t know that I ever believed him, but I do know, at twenty-two, I am the youngest bassist to ever play in the Giles Christian Orchestra. My bass, affectionately named Tucker, watches me from my room, waiting for another opportunity to prove to our audience that its namesake was right.

Ready to start my day, I make my bed and start to the kitchen for breakfast.

My sister’s bedroom is closest to mine, and as I walk past it, I notice her door is open. The night owl she is would never willingly be awake this early on a Saturday morning. I peer into her room to check that everything is okay.

Her fuchsia walls are made louder by the colorful posters that decorate them. Bethany is spelt out in glittering purple letters, an art project from middle school. Her clothes are thrown on every surface in her room, and I wonder how she manages to coordinate her outfits so well each day, how she can find anything to match. On her unmade bed is her rose gold laptop and a stuffed animal she has always denied sleeping with. My sister, however, is nowhere to be seen.

The bathroom door is open, ruling out that possibility. I continue down the hall, calling her name.

No sooner do I turn into the family room am I smacked by a blur of blonde. She seizes fistfuls of my shirt. Her small body is trembling, and she is trying to say something, but I can hear none of what she mutters into my chest. After a moment, she seems to realize this, and her pale eyes meet my gaze. Swollen tears trail down her cheeks, and there is a terror on her face like I have never seen before. She speaks too quickly for me to follow, then grabs for my hands. Hers, much smaller, are shaking. She searches my face, waiting for me to respond to whatever she is trying to tell me.

When I look up, I see my twin brother glaring at her. He is breathing heavily, and just as I am about to ask him what’s going on, my eye catches on his hand. He firmly grips his hunting knife, and only then do I see the hateful look in his eye.

Instinctively, I move between my siblings. “Harrison.” My voice, though silent to me, makes him look at me. I try to search his expression, find out what has happened. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

Harrison scoffs. “Don’t you play dumb with me,” he says. I watch his lips, snarling. He is yelling; I can hear the rage in his voice, though I can make out none of his syllables.

Bethany grabs me from behind, hugging my waist. She presses her head against my back, still quaking. She is all of seventeen, but at that moment, she seems no older than a child. My sister, always confident, now cowers behind me, terrified.

Harrison rolls his eyes at us. “You’re a disgrace, you know that?” he says. “Both of you.” He spits at Bethany. “Mum would be so ashamed.”

He is speaking too quickly; I struggle to keep up with his words. I do not know what he is accusing us of. “Harry, calm down,” I murmur. It is seven in the morning, but I dare to ask: “Have you been drinking?”

My question only angers him more. He slashes at me, an intentional miss that leaves my heart pounding. “I’m the only one thinking straight in this whole damn family!” He motions to Bethany with the tip of his knife. “What have you done? How far from God’s graces have you fallen?��

I realize then that talking with Harrison will get me nowhere. I half-turn towards Bethany and press gently against her shoulders until she is looking at me. “What is he talking about?” I demand, though I fear I already have an idea.

Bethany glances towards our brother briefly before dropping her gaze to the floor. She mumbles something and, irritated, I raise her chin and force her to speak to me. Her cheeks turn red and she smiles awkwardly, as if she had somehow forgotten about my disability. Then, she says, “He read my journal.”

I watch her for several moments, waiting for her to elaborate. She doesn’t, so I prompt, “And?”

“And he read it,” she continues, regaining her confidence. “That’s like the number one rule of having a sister. You don’t read her private writings. I don’t know why he would betray me like that.” Tears well at her eyes again, and as a sob shakes her body, I pull her close to me to comfort her. I cast a glance towards Harrison, as if begging him to give us a moment.

When Bethany can speak again, she continues with shaky breaths. “No one is supposed to read the things I put in there. It was private. I never thought anyone would get to it, I don’t even know how he found it, but… I wrote about us, Hunter. And now he thinks—”

She stops talking suddenly, and it takes me a moment to realize Harrison has interrupted her. I follow his words, guessing at what he’d said before I looked up. “...horrid and disgusting. He is your brother.” I watch the way his mouth holds his last word. He accompanies it with the sign language equivalent, ensuring I am reminded of this status. Harrison shakes his head, hard. “I’m not letting this continue,” he says, voice growing louder as if he wants me to hear it. I can only image how ear-splitting it is for Bethany, what the neighbors must be thinking.

I try to ignore the tone of my brother’s voice, the cold look in his eyes. “Beth?” I gently urge. “What did you write?”

“Read it for yourself!” Harrison’s voice is taunting. He hurls a book at me, and I fumble to catch it against my chest. I recognize the sparkly purple cover; Mum had asked my opinion of that birthday present ages ago. I had no idea she still wrote in it.

I look to Bethany, but she will not meet my eye. Uncharacteristically, she does not move to snatch the book out of my hands. I glance at her as I open it, leaf through the pages, and take her silent acceptance as permission.

The first page has big, swooping letters, Bethany’s handwriting from when she was younger. The date atop the page is from several years ago. I skim the book, her endless ramblings and elaborate doodles, until I reach the most recent entries. My eyes soar over the pages, taking in charged words, no offenses. She writes about her teachers, her friends, whatever has her bothered enough to bring her thoughts to pen. I see nothing damning until I turn the page and glance over an entry dated a couple weeks ago.

My attention is caught on my name, the whirlwind of words that follow it. I open my mouth to protest, but I do not know how. What I once skimmed I read now word for word, struggling to understand. I want to stop, to close this book and give it back to my sister, to never know that she’d write such things about me, but the sentences linger in my thoughts, taunting. After a long while I look to my sister. Her gaze is still on the floor, and she shifts awkwardly. Her face is red, and there are tears threatening to fall over her cheeks. I look up at my brother. He clenches his knife, waiting for me to explain myself. I almost understand his anger. Then, I look back to the book, and I wonder how on earth this could have ever happened.

~~~

On the day of Bethany’s seventeenth birthday, Harrison, Mum, and I baked her a cake. It wasn’t common for our family to throw big parties, so Bethany had made plans that night to celebrate with her friends after supper. Once our plates were cleaned, Mum cleared them away, and Harrison and I brought the cake to the dining room table.

The three of us had worked together on it. None of us were bakers, but we wanted Bethany’s birthday to be special. Mum had looked up how to make a tiered cake, and Harrison and I had decorated it in strips of strawberry icing and purple fondant. As we brought it to her, Bethany gasped.

“Did you make that?” she asked, looking at me.

“We all did,” I responded.

We set it in front of her, and Mum dug seventeen tiny candles into the top tier. Bethany glanced between us, joy painted on her face. “You really didn’t have to do this,” she said. “It’s so pretty.”

Mum lit the candles, and the three of us sang to her. She blew out her candles, and absently I wondered what my sister would wish for. Bethany cut through the dessert, and her eyes shone. “It’s marble too? You outdid yourselves.”

As we ate, Harrison got to talking. He was muttering something about his job at the pub, but his mouth was too full for me to make much sense of his exact words. I didn’t much mind, and from the looks of things, Mum and Bethany weren’t paying him much attention either. Growing up, I was always convinced my brother loved to hear himself talk, as if to make up for the fact that I couldn’t.

On the rare occasions the family ate together, I was often lost in my own world. However, I still noticed Bethany stealing glances at me. She would look away when I tried to meet her, and I noticed, unlike usual, she wasn’t chiming in to tell Harrison to shut up. She stabbed absently at her cake when I watched her. I noticed Mum looking at her too, and Bethany seemed to shrink under the attention. It felt as if a silent conversation were occurring between the women in my family, and I did not know what to make of it. Harrison did not even seem to notice.

When everyone had finished, Bethany went to her room to get ready for her outing. Harrison started back to his, likely to prepare for his shift that night. I helped Mum clear away the dishes, but afterwards I would need to get dressed and drive out to meet the orchestra.

In the kitchen, as I set the dishes by the sink, Mum suddenly spoke. She had the kind of voice I could somehow always hear, but she still signed with her words, ensuring I understood. She said my name, sternly, and at twenty-two I still cowered at the sound.

I hesitated. “Yes, Mum?”

She watched me for a moment. Her dark eyes pierced my soul, just as they always had when she was scolding me. She looked away, then asked her question: “What is going on between you and your sister?”

Something about her voice, quiet to my ears, steady, expectant, something about the way her hands punctuated her words, forcefully, clearly; her question unnerved me. I loved my mum, and I had no shortage of respect for her, but she always knew how to make me tremble.

I arched a brow. “I beg your pardon?”

Her words grew quicker, signs sloppier. “You think I’m so naive, don’t you? I’m not blind, Hunter.” She takes a moment to calm herself, begins scooping uneaten cake into a container. “Do you love Bethany?” she asks.

“What?” I turned my full attention to her, searched her face. Her lips were trembling, and though she was trying to hide it, her brows were furrowed. She looked as if she might hit me at any moment. I cleared my throat. “Of course I love her. She’s my sister. We’ve been close her whole life, you know that.”

My answer irritated her. She paused, and a piece of cake fell into the container, crumbling. “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she bit. She turned to me, eyes a shrouded brown. “Don’t you think you’re too close?”

But I didn’t understand. “Why?” I asked. I took a subconscious step away from her. “What’s wrong with my relationship with my sister?”

“She fancies you, Hunter.” She is blunt, serious. A fear came over her eyes, one I had never seen before. “Don’t you see that?” She looked away. Her free hand shakily signed her silent words: “Do you feel that way about her too?”

I couldn’t believe what she was saying. I knew my mother had always been paranoid, but this was such a stretch, even for her. She was still, contemplating. What answer would she form in my silence? I had to say something, but how could I respond to that?

“No,” I say, the answer she needed to hear. I watched the sigh leave her body. “She’s my sister, Mum. We’re siblings. Beth and I are close, sure, but we’re not… No, that’s…” I couldn’t form the words to explain how I felt about it. I wasn’t sure I knew how to feel about it. I tried to speak more, but my mumbles turned nonsensical.

Mum signed, “Stop.” She glanced behind me, to where Bethany was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. I couldn’t tell if she’d caught any of our conversation. Mum returned to her task, a silent acceptance of the end of that conversation.

Bethany approached me with a cheery grin. She was wearing more makeup than usual, and the paint around her eyes brought out their crystalline blue. Her miniskirt was high on her thighs, and I sent a cautious glance to Mum, wondering if she would comment. Bethany twirled for me, then asked, “What do you think, Hunter?” She said something else, but her unsigned words were lost to me.

I smiled awkwardly, hoping whatever else she’d said wasn’t important. “You look cute,” I replied, but the words felt different now. Again I glanced at Mum, wondering whether my response was brotherly enough.

Bethany’s cheeks colored at my compliment. She curtsied daintily and smiled at me, eyes shining with satisfaction. “Thank you, sweet brother,” she sang. “Good luck at your concert! Sorry I can’t come today. Won’t you give me a private show later?”

I flinched at the unintentional innuendo. Mum was glaring holes into my back. I shifted awkwardly. Was Bethany acting differently from normal? Was she just being her sweet self, or did she really like me? Had I never noticed before? The suggestion terrified me.

She was waiting for an answer. “Oh, um,” I stammered, “Yeah. Have fun with your friends, Beth. Happy birthday, again.”

Her smile grew wider. She signed, “Thank you,” then stepped on the tips of her toes to hug me. She hesitated before doing the same to Mum, then grabbed her keys and headed out the door.

With Bethany gone, I cautiously turned towards Mum. She had moved to washing the dishes and said nothing. I stood before her awkwardly, then retreated to my room, praying Mum and my newfound doubts were wrong about this all.

I wear my hearing aids to all my concerts. With the whole orchestra and the audience relying on me to play properly, I cannot afford to not hear. That night, I did not need my aids to know I played poorly.

My focus was shattered. I had trouble following the music when my head was elsewhere. How many other signs had I missed? Did Bethany treat Harrison differently because she disliked him or because she liked me? How could my sister like me?

After the concert, one of our cellists approached me to ask if I was okay. I didn’t know how to answer her. How could I explain my situation? I just smiled at her, insisted I had to be home before long. She would never understand. I couldn’t even understand.

When I got home that night, I ripped off my hearing aids and threw them in my nightstand, drowning out the world.

Not even the familiar silence could comfort me then. A brother and a sister… Such a thing was unnatural, was wrong—wasn’t it? I didn’t feel that way about her, I was sure of that. And I couldn’t deny that, if these accusations were true, her feelings were valid, and she had every right to feel them, as disgusting and wrong as they were. ...Were they wrong? What made them wrong?

My internal war kept me awake far past when Harrison got home. I saw the light spill under my door, watched the shadows of his footsteps slink to his room. I then realized there was no use in trying to sleep anymore.

I sat up and turned on a lamp. Hoping reading would put me to sleep, I pulled my Kindle from the nightstand and opened my current book. I read slowly, painfully, and I was growing frustrated with how I had to reread each page to make sense of it. Somehow I made it through several chapters when, finally, thankfully, I could feel myself dozing off. I shut off my Kindle and moved to turn off the light, but I caught a glimpse of a shadow under my door.

The doorknob turned, and a blonde head peered into my room. It was far past her curfew. I noticed dark smudges tainting her skirt, and her makeup had run freely down her face. She had been crying.

“Beth?” Immediately I walked to her and wrapped her in a hug. “What happened?”

I led her to the bed, where she collapsed, shaking. I held her for several minutes, a million explanations running through my head. My eyes located my phone, and I mentally rehearsed the emergency call I might have had to make.

Bethany took a deep breath and met my eyes. “I’m sorry,” she signed. She continued her conversation verbally, her sign language not trained enough to keep up with her thoughts. “I didn’t mean to wake you, I just wanted…”

Her lips stopped. I shook my head. “You didn’t wake me,” I assured. I kept my voice at a whisper. Were Mum and Harrison awake? Should I have woken them?

Bethany whispered too, responding to what I had said. The small shapes her lips made were unreadable. She knew I couldn’t understand when people whispered.

Sighing, I pulled open my nightstand and put in my hearing aids. I waited a few moments, taking in the quiet hum of a cricket, the distant call of an owl. I then looked back at Bethany, urging her to continue.

She just stared at me. The shock was clear on her face. She looked at my ears. A question caught somewhere in her throat. “You don’t wear those for anyone,” she mumbled.

“This seems important.”

She turned away, a smile gracing her tear-stained face. “Thank you,” she said. Her voice was very small; even with the hearing aids, I struggled to hear her.

I ran my hands through her hair, trying to soothe her. “Now what’s happened?”

She turned back to me. There was an anger in her eyes. “My friends hate me,” she snarled. “I thought I could trust them, and now they hate me.”

“Why do you think your friends hate you?”

“Because they said so!” She realized she was raising her voice, and she looked to my bedroom door, waiting to hear someone stirring. She then looked back to me. “They’re jealous, I think.”

“What are they jealous of?”

Bethany remained silent. I could see she was debating telling me.

“You can trust me, Beth.” Even in the dark, I could make out the cuts on her exposed legs. Blood had dried on her knees, stained her skirt. Whatever fight my sister had had with her friends, I couldn’t forgive them for hurting her.

She pulled away from me then, and my hand fell to the bed. I watched her, her scared eyes, her shaking hands. “Us,” she answered.

My brows arched. As I was about to ask her what she meant, she slipped two fingers under my chin, and she pulled me closer to her. Her lips came over mine, nervous, lingering. When she moved away, a deep red splashed onto her cheeks. She was smiling.

I didn’t know how to react. Had that just happened? I inched away from her. Mum had been right. But Bethany was just my sister. My mouth hung agape, until I had enough sense to speak. I stammered for a few moments, looking for the right words to describe how I was feeling. How was I feeling? This was wrong, didn’t Bethany realize that? I had to say something, do something, I needed to be the big brother, the responsible adult in this situation, but what could I do…?

“Beth,” I started, but she put a soft finger to my lips to quiet me.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Her gaze fell to the floor, and her smile faded. “You don’t want me like that. I get it. It’s wrong, I know.” New tears bubbled at the corners of her eyes. “I tried so hard to deny this, Hunter. It’s so gross, and I feel gross, but I couldn’t. I can’t deny my feelings. But a brother and a sister, that’s disgusting, and I needed help. I went to my friends, I hoped they could give me some advice, but they didn’t, they hate me, they called me a sick freak, and they’re right. I’m sorry. I can’t help it. Hunter, I love you.”

The pain in her voice chilled me. I wanted to stop her, to beg her to stop speaking, to rip out my hearing aids and silence this nightmare. But her words were said. No one could take them back now.

I struggled to say something to help her. “It’s not that.”

She looked up suddenly, hope flashing in her eyes. “You love me too?”

I silently swore. “Of course, Beth, but as a sister. We’re not supposed to be more than that. It’s wrong.”

“No it isn’t.” She was using my hesitance to her advantage,and in the moment, I hated her for it. She reached for my chin again, and I did not stop her. Her lips lingered longer this time, and her tongue threatened forbidden territory.

Finally, I pulled away, firmly shaking my head. “Bethany, stop this.”

But her hand was already trailing down my side, dancing under my shirt.

I grabbed it and pinned it to the bed instead. “No, Beth, this isn’t right. We shouldn’t do this. You need to stop.”

But she was determined to not listen. She pushed me down and climbed on top of me, straddling me. Panicked, I wondered how this would look to Mum or Harrison, should they for whatever reason open my door. Bethany smiled, and her misplaced confidence scared me. “But I can,” she teased. “Come on, Hunter, don’t you want this too?”

Every part of me was saying no. This was inexcusable. Bethany was my sister, was only seventeen, still a child. With horror, I wondered if I had just been her first kiss. Yet some part of me, deep down, had to admit that I didn’t dislike the kiss. What was so wrong about this, anyway?

Bethany understood my silence as affirmation. She linked her fingers with mine and brought my hand to her mouth, kissed it. Her other hand wandered to my hip, inching downwards. Her touch was light, tantalizing. Was I liking this? I couldn’t have been liking this. I stifled my reactions, could not encourage her. I felt her fingers slip under the waistline of my shorts, and I sat up quickly, batting her hand away.

“I can’t,” I said, “I’m sorry.” There were too many thoughts fighting for my attention, and I knew this maelstrom could not be silenced. How long had all this been on her mind? How long had she suffered through these feelings?

“Hunter,” she sang, “don’t keep teasing your sissy like this.”

“No.” I pulled away from her, and my back hit my bed frame. “Don’t talk to me like that. Actually, I think you should go to bed.”

“But Hunter,” she whined. She was growing impatient. “Don’t you realize? I waited so fucking long for this. Finally this is within my grasp, and I can see you want it too. Stop denying yourself, Hunter. Stop denying me. Let us have this.” She crawled towards me. “We can keep it a secret. No one will ever have to know.”

“Bethany.” The sternness in my tone startled me. “Get out of my room.”

Her eyes widened, stung. She began to protest, but she stopped herself. Defeated, she picked herself off my bed and made her way back to her room, alone.

~~~

We never spoke about what happened. It took months, but I finally managed to force it from my mind, and I prayed Bethany did too.

Our mother died that year. She had been in a car accident that was no one’s fault. The three of us were orphans then, and though we were capable of taking care of ourselves, we deeply mourned the loss of our mother.

Well, Harrison and I did. Bethany’s coping mechanisms were more silent. She seemed unbothered by her death, and I did not know how to understand her grief. If anything, she seemed cheerier with Mum gone. I couldn’t imagine the pain she must have been bottling inside.

A couple months after Mum died, Bethany wandered into my room late at night. She sat on my bed and brushed the curls from my face. I awoke startled, and nearly threw her off the bed. She called to me, but her voice did not meet my ears.

“Beth?” I said, wiping the sleep from my eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Beth smiled. “I’ve been thinking,” she said. I could not hear her at all. “Now that Mum’s gone, we could… you know.”

I rubbed at my eyes again, hoping I was reading wrong. I glanced at my phone. 4:39 a.m. “What?” I sat up straighter, tried to gather my bearings. “What do you mean, now Mum’s gone? Mum’s dead, Bethany. She’s never coming back.”

“I know!” I heard the animation in her voice then. Her smile left me shivering. “So now there are no obstacles, right? We can be together.”

My voice hitched in my throat. Before I could reply, she kissed me, a long and passionate gesture that I did not stop. I had forgotten what her lips tasted like, and suddenly I was overwhelmed by them. I forced myself away from her, far later than I should have.

“What is the matter with you?” I wiped at my mouth, trying to remove the lingering lust there. “No, Beth, we can’t be together. Why can’t you understand that? It’s wrong.”

“Don’t say that.” She reached her fingers through my hair and massaged my scalp. Her nails scratched lightly against my skin. She was teasing me, and I had to stop it.

I grabbed her wrist. “Beth, come on. You should be going out with other people, finding a boyfriend like every other teenage girl.”

“You could be my boyfriend.” She looked at me sweetly. For the first time, I noticed how low her shirt was cut. She had planned this, all of this.

“No,” I stuttered. “No, Beth, you’re… We can’t, I can’t, stop.” I hated how weak I felt, how unsure my voice was. Why couldn’t I put my foot down?

“Why not?” She cocked her head to the side, and her blonde waves fell over her bare shoulder. “You don’t have a girlfriend, and you’re not gay, right?”

“Bethany, listen to me.” I drew in a long breath. “I’m your brother. I’m five years older than you. We shouldn’t be together. What would people think of me, screwing around with my baby sister?”

“No one will find out.” She pressed down on my chest, pushing me down to my bed. In the next moment, she was smacking her lips to mine again. I wriggled from under her.

“I think it’s time to go to bed.”

She opened her eyes and studied me. “Hunter?” Her features softened. The syllables were a whisper. I liked the way she smiled into my name. “You’re not convinced you don’t want this.”

I didn’t know how to admit to myself that she was right. I didn’t know if my reluctance stemmed from not wanting to hurt her or from wanting her. I couldn’t have wanted her—right? I shook my head. “Sometimes, our hearts chase those who can’t love us back,” I said. “All we can do is learn how to move on. It’s time for you to move on, Beth. I’m sorry. I can’t love you like that. I don’t want to. ...I’m sorry.”

~~~ 

I told myself I wouldn’t write anymore entries about this, but I can’t keep this inside. I didn’t know what to do. I had to tell someone, and I thought that they could help me. I tried to tell my friends about my feelings for Hunter. They didn’t take it well at all. Some were sure I was joking, but I told them I wasn’t, and then they got mad. They called me disgusting, and a freak, and then they started attacking me. I never thought my friends would turn on me like that. They pushed me to the ground and threw their drinks at me. I don’t know what I did to deserve that.

When I got home, I didn’t know what to do. I felt so humiliated and betrayed. I went to Hunter’s room, I guess I hoped that he would make it better, and he comforted me. He’s so kind to me. It’s got to be his fault that I’ve fallen in love with him. What girl wouldn’t? He’s really the perfect man, and we have a head start! He already loves me!

When we were in his room, I finally told him how I felt. He was just so kind and caring that I knew nothing would go wrong. He was shocked, and he wanted to deny his feelings, but there was something there. The way he looked at me. The way his fingers lingered on mine, even when he was trying to push me away… Maybe he feels the same way? He must feel the same way!

Since, I can’t stop thinking about us together. We could cuddle under some fluffy blankets as some film plays on TV, and I would whisper in his ear and I just know he’d hear it, and he would whisper back, and all night we would stay up trading sweet nothings, until he pulls me down and kisses me lovingly and passionately, and he would never pull away.

I know this can become reality. I just need Hunter to give us a chance.

~~~

The journal grows heavy in my hands. It contains the words of any teenage crush, of the fantasies and dreams of an adolescent in love. But it’s not just any teenage crush. This book contains the writings of my sister’s crush on me.

Bethany betrays her written word; she continues to write about it. The following entries detail her dirtiest dreams, and I flinch reading them. Finally, I can take no more. A nausea bubbles in the pit of my stomach, threatening release. I am horrified at her attention to detail, her ability to describe everything that has not happened. If anyone else were to read these entries, it would appear as if we have done all she has described.

The journal falls from my hands and lands on the floor. I turn sharply to my brother. “I never—” I begin, but I do not know where to start in defending myself.

“But Hunter!” Bethany yells. I turn to follow her lips. “Haven’t you dreamt of those things, too?”

“Shut up.” Harrison’s voice is loud, ringed with acid. He moves towards us, pointing his knife at Bethany still.

She cowers behind me, petrified.

“You,” Harrison snarls, turning his blade to me. “How dare you. You disgraceful whore. You sick bastard. She’s seventeen. And she’s your…” He looks to her again. “How dare you make a mockery of my mother’s death. You bitch. You fuck around like she isn’t vomiting in her grave. You deserve to die in her place.”

Harrison is growing angrier. I try to soothe him, keep my voice level, my expression neutral. “We didn’t do what she wrote,” I say. I watch the vein snake through my brother’s temple, dark and protruding. His fingers clutch the hilt of his knife firmly, though his hands are shaking. “Harrison, you have to listen to me. We haven’t done anything.”

“We kissed.” Bethany’s voice is a plea.

I turn sharply to her, willing her to not escalate this further. She does not meet my eye. I see determination on her face, a need to convince herself of her reality.

“There’s nothing wrong with a kiss, Harrison,” she continues. “Can’t two siblings share a kiss? Aren’t you just jealous? Jealous that I show your twin affection and not you.” Her voice gains confidence as she continues, while my legs begin to quake. “Hunter and I love each other very much, and you’re just lonely old Harrison. Now that Mum’s gone, you haven’t got anyone else.”

Something in Harrison snaps. Perhaps it’s the tension of this entire ordeal finally catching up to him. Perhaps it’s the thought of his sister daring to defend this incest. Perhaps it’s the silence of his own twin. Or, perhaps it is the mention of our mother, no longer the voice of authority.

I hear him scream, and that inhuman sound seems to clear my ears, for I hear the events that unfold next perfectly.

My brother lunges for me, pushing me against the wall and shoving me out of the way. His blade slices at my arm, leaving a trail of red beneath my sleeve. He goes for Bethany, who shrieks and tries to run, but Harrison is faster, and in the next second, he is plunging the knife into her chest. I hear the way her flesh gives way to metal, and it is a sound I will never forget.

There is no time to gather my bearings. I force myself up, biting through the pain in my back, and try to pry the knife from my deranged brother. Never in our lives have I seen him like this, so monster-like. My fear for my safety gives way to the need to defend my sister. Her screaming is all I can hear, the volume and clarity all I can focus on.

Somehow, I manage to grab the knife, and I wince as its blade cuts my fingers. Harrison, the bigger and stronger twin, wrestles it away from me. Helpless, I try to defend myself as he slashes as me. Blood flies between us, blurring my vision. I need to get away, but if he is focused on me, maybe Bethany can escape.

Soon, Harrison loses interest in me. He turns back to Bethany, small and terrified, huddled in a corner. He begins kicking at her, screaming insult after insult. I throw myself at him, trying to pull him away. He punches me square in the jaw, then again in the head, dazing me. I struggle to catch his blows, all the while trying to see Bethany.

She is still, and blood begins to pool around her. The sight of her fills me with a new willpower. As Harrison tries to punch me again, I summon all my strength, and I punch him across the face.

He is startled, but an eerie smile soon spills onto his lips. He wipes the blood now dripping from his nose. “In all our years, Hunter,” he says, “I’ve never once seen you fight back.” He gets ready to continue this fight.

Somehow, I find it in me to keep hitting him. I aim for his face, his throat, anywhere he leaves exposed. Each of my punches grows stronger. I don’t know if I’m trying to protect my sister anymore, or if I am trying to vent my feelings about this all.

~~~

I don’t know when the ambulance arrives, or who calls for it. I remember passing out shortly after Harrison did, and when I wake again, I am not in my mother’s house. My sunlight and silence do not greet this day. The harsh lamps blind me, and I can just make out the steady, muffled cry of an EKG.

I’m at the hospital. IVs trail up my arms and under my gown. Red-tinted bandages cover my hands and arms. The itchy fabric of the pale gown irritates the stitches on my abdomen.

A nurse walks in then, and when she sees that I am awake she smiles warmly. I ask her about my sister, but she swears she cannot disclose anything about her yet. I demand someone else; someone has to tell me how Bethany is.

It is only hours later that I learn about my siblings’ conditions from a different nurse. Harrison is suffering from a broken hand and wrist, a broken jaw and nose. Once he awakens, he will need to face the consequences of his actions. I am told I will have to do the same.

Bethany has been unconscious for hours. The wound in her chest was dangerously close to her heart, and she is suffering from a concussion. The doctors do not know when she will wake, whether she will wake. She will likely sustain brain damage, I am told, though no one can guess at the severity.

When the nurses let me, I visit Bethany. The EKG’s call is the only sign she is alive. I sit on her bed and run my hands through her hair, now tangled and unkempt. I brush my hands against her cheek, wince at its cold. I then hold her hand and sigh.

I feel her grasp weakly tighten. Her eyes flutter open, and recognition crosses her face. “Hunter,” she whispers. Her eyes droop, and I resent this dull image of this beautiful, vibrant girl.

“How are you feeling?”

She doesn’t seem well enough to answer me yet, so she responds with a shrug. She turns away, taking in her new surroundings.

We sit in silence for several minutes. She struggles to breathe, and when she tries to move, the pain washes over her body. Finally, she looks to me. “Thank you,” she says. “For saving me.”

I shake my head. “Don’t speak,” I say. “Save your energy.”

She grabs my hand. Her mouth forms the shapes I’ve seen many times. Perhaps I had always interpreted them wrong before now. “I love you.”

Cautiously, my eyes sweep the room. I peer behind the divider, look to the empty bed beside us, the hallway. Nurses scurry back and forth, too busy to care about us.

I move over Bethany and, delicately, I place a kiss on her lips.

Her eyes widen in surprise. She uses what little energy she has to kiss me back.

When we pull away, I see that smile I have come to love so much.

“I love you too,” I tell her.

She sighs, and with that, she closes her eyes and falls asleep.