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Her words pierced through me, but I quickly reminded myself not to let them affect me too deeply. Honest confessions like Skye's were meant to shatter me, to weave an emotional web that would leave us both vulnerable. And right now, I needed to escape that.
"As much as I reveled in tormenting you, Skye, I never anticipated that my heart would stumble upon love. All I wanted was to have a bit of amusement, but now, whenever I close my eyes, your presence haunts me. You permeate my delicate heart and infiltrate my dreams," I admitted, the words threatening to spill from my lips in a raw, unfiltered manner. It was a confession I never anticipated making. Yet, there was only one entity to blame for this whole predicament, and that was my fragile heart for foolishly falling in love.
"Well, Dax, you can never truly grasp the meaning and sensation of love until it smacks you square in the face and nibbles at the edges of your senses!" Skye protested with fervor, attempting to comprehend my words while simultaneously rejecting them.
I understood why she hesitated to trust me. I had shattered her faith in the past with a mindless, juvenile dare concocted among my friends.
"Indeed, you are correct, Skye. I remain ignorant of the emotions of love, for the last time I truly experienced it was when I lost the love and joy that once illuminated my life..." I seethed through clenched teeth. My words dripped with the pain and memories of a past I couldn't evade. Not even an army of therapists could unravel this complex web.
Once again, my bluntness surfaced, compelled by a desperate longing to unburden my soul and confide in someone about my internal turmoil. Though I did not require her sympathy, it felt liberating to finally voice the turbulent thoughts eroding my being. I hadn't even divulged everything to my other friends, not even Greg, my unwavering confidant.
"Oops, did you misplace something, Dax? Out of everyone, you managed to lose something you consider significant?" Skye playfully teased, her voice grating on my nerves. It seemed she still thought I was joking, oblivious to the boundaries of when to stop.
"Yes, I certainly have," I replied, striving to regain my composure and conceal my mounting frustration. Despite my efforts to remain composed, I found myself gripping Skye's shoulders a little too tightly, clinging on for a moment longer than necessary. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to let go.
"It doesn't seem like someone who has misplaced something important. You seem to have it all," Skye observed, attempting to keep up with the conversation.
"Indeed?" I responded with a rhetorical tone, accompanied by a near scoff. Skye's ignorant and unappreciative behavior only served to solidify her perception of me as nothing more than a privileged brat. "Well, I suppose now that my father is marrying your mother, you too will have it all," I continued, refusing to stray from the topic. No matter how hard I tried, it remained ingrained in my thoughts.
"I don't need any of that," Skye replied.
"Don't pretend you're not thrilled. Don't act like you were oblivious to the fact that your mother was my father's mistress, intimately involved with him. Now I can piece together the source of those moans I overheard. But anyway, don't pretend you were unaware of the connection between your mother and my father!" I interjected, struggling to restrain my desire to use explicit language. Only God knows how badly I wanted to let it all out.
"No matter what I say, Dax, it seems like you won't ever listen. I have no knowledge about the man my mother had wanted to marry..." She attempted to substantiate her claims, wanting to provide more evidence, but I interjected because I had no interest in hearing whatever she had to say. However, amidst my anger, animosity, and curiosity, there existed a conflicting desire to satisfy all three simultaneously.
"Even if you were aware that your mother intended to marry my father, I knew you would seize the opportunity to destroy me..." I sharply interrupted.
"And why would I do that?" she inquired.
"Because if the tables were turned, I could do the same to you!"
"Well, I'm not surprised that you can do that... it's what makes you despicable!" she exclaimed.
"And that was the word I needed to hear from your lips!" I retorted.
"You know, Dax, I thought you'd be different..."
"In what way?" I disrespectfully interrupted, devoid of any concern.
"Never mind," Skye said dismissively, releasing the hand I had placed on her shoulder. Almost forgetting her initial intention to speak, she seemed eager to leave. However, being persistent and undeniably drawn to her, I wanted to know what she had to say.
In a sudden act of defiance, I firmly gripped her shoulders again. "Answer my fucking question, Skye," I demanded.
"I'm done talking to you. In fact, I consider any conversation or even any physical contact with you a complete waste of time," she retorted, struggling to break free from my grip. Yet, her futile attempts only provoked a subtle smirk to settle on my lips. "Now let go of me, Dax!" she added, her frustration evident.
"You know, Skye, I can't help but reconsider my feelings towards you. It's as if love and hate are intertwined within me," I declared, fully aware that our upcoming bond as step-siblings would complicate matters. Despite this knowledge, I couldn't deny the allure of both tormenting and falling in love with her.
Stepsister.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Skye
Bonus Chapter!
Do you know the saying, "Love is unpredictable," "Love is treacherous," "Love is blind," "Love is toxic," and many more? But the crux of the matter is that some love is false, its sole purpose is to shatter you, just like it has done to me. The predicament I'm currently in is far from the convoluted scenarios depicted in the romance novels I've devoured. In this instance, love has unequivocally abandoned me.
"I despise you, absolutely loathe you!" I whispered vehemently, the words resounding within the confined space and reaching both my mother and I, to whom I was directedly speaking. I had elected to pay a brief visit to my mother in her chamber. As expected, she was perched in a chair, encompassed by a team of five individuals she had enlisted. One was diligently applying layers of makeup to my mother's face, transforming her appearance into something unrecognizable. Another was expertly taming her tresses, yet another diligently enhancing her nails, while one was focusing on accentuating her lashes, and the final person was engaged in pampering her toes.
