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Why the hell was she doing it in my room?
Plucking up my courage, I went in to kick them out of my bed.
My brain was in no way prepared for what I saw when I opened the door. My once sweet little stepsister was naked and on all fours, biting her lip to keep from screaming. And my boyfriend Kenny was also naked, towering over her small frame, even while on his knees, as he railed her, demolishing her like the world was ending.
They didn’t even look up at me, clearly in a trance and not even caring if I saw. Choking back a cry, I hurried up to leave.
I ran outside as fast as I could and stopped when I got to the front lawn. The grass was soft, and the sun was warm, giving me a moment to catch my breath. Suddenly it made sense why Raquel was being cold, and Kenny was being distant. I couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been going on. Since she turned eighteen? Or even earlier?
I had noticed him looking at her as she started to mature but hadn’t thought anything of it, knowing he wasn’t a pervert and never thinking she would betray me like that. I was still thinking about this when the door opened and they both came out.
“Oh, Maggie!” I heard Kenny said.
“How could you?” I demanded.
“I-”
“I wasn’t taking to you!” I screamed at Kenny, glaring at Raquel, who was smiling in her victory.
“Because he’s really fuckin’ good,” Raquel gloated.
It was then that I realized that they had known I was there, and hadn’t cared. They had clearly been doing something so wrong – having sex in my room – that they had wanted me to catch them.
Apparently, my stepsister had turned into a giant bitch.
“It’s over,” I said, as sternly as I could, looking straight at Kenny.
Then I looked at Raquel and said, “and don’t ever call me your ‘sister’ again.”
They both just shrugged, and I told myself to be as done with this whole thing as I could be. They clearly didn’t care about my feelings so I shouldn’t give any further thought to any of this.
I knew this would be easier said than done but I was determined to try.
First things first: I had to find a new place to live, ASAP.
Chapter Three
Maggie
Six Months Later
The traffic was hell, which was par for the course for L.A. on most days, let alone a Tuesday morning. They Might Be Giants spun in the CD player. Old tech for an old band seemed fitting really, as did the music.
TMBG were known for songs that sounded happy but were actually sad. Tracks such as “I Hope I’m Old Before I Die,” which was a deceptively bouncy, near polka tune a line that includes the phrase: “And I think about the dirt I’ll be wearing as a shirt and I hope I’m old Before I Die.”
At that moment though it was “Birdhouse In Your Soul” playing, a mind-blindingly weird song that needed to be heard to be believed. It always cheered me up. Getting past my sadness and inhibitions, I started singing along.
I wouldn’t have gone to a therapist under most circumstances. I just needed to find out why I was still so depressed. My life had gone to shit since I found out about Kenny and Raquel. I could only afford a small studio apartment but worse than that all creative inspiration seemed to leave me.
I tried to write, particularly the story I had been working on the day I found out about them, but none of it came out right. Everything I tried to write was just boring and angry. I had to start working as well as writing, with my inheritance money dwindling and L.A. being really expensive, and not just in terms of rent.
I still had my freelance writing gigs I did online, but it really wasn’t the same. My spark was gone, snuffed under the dark cloud of hurt and betrayal. I knew I should just get over it, but it has been six months and I was no better off. I was going to need some professional help, no matter how embarrassed it made the self-sufficient part of me.
I couldn’t believe how much time I’d spent worrying about Raquel and Kenny. It made me afraid to trust anyone again. I knew it was foolish and it couldn’t happen every time – it was statistically impossible and I tried to tell myself that my odds for being cheated on had already been cashed in – but it hadn’t been the first time I had burned and was starting to be really wary of people in general.
I must have been experiencing some kind of deep depression and I just wanted to get out of this funk.
