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His back is arched, his arms and legs dead at his side. His head tilted toward the ceiling as his shirt drapes on either side of him, his bare chest on display, showing a darkness, almost like a bruise forming where the shadow penetrates him. Until every inch of the shadow flows into him, and he stays levitated for another moment.
Then drops.
He falls to the ground in heavy limbs. Unconscious.
Where did it go? It didn't even come out the other side of him.
I look around, expecting it to be lurking in the corner, ready to take me.
But it's not. It's nowhere.
I don't waste another second. Scrambling to my feet, I rush to Malik's side, my knees knocking to the ground. "Malik," I cry, shaking his shoulders. He's unresponsive, his head lolling back and forth from my rocking. "Malik, please wake up!"
He doesn't wake up. He doesn't even stir. But pressing my fingers to his neck, his heart is beating. Heavy, steady.
He's alive.
"Please," I whimper, surprised at the tears that roll down my cheeks. I don't even wipe them away. I let them roll down my cheeks as I curl on my side, lying against Malik. I'm not strong enough to pull him upstairs, and I'm not going to leave him alone.
I'll stay here until I know he's okay.
I'll stay with him.
I'll stay with my monster. My stepbrother.
28
MALIK
My eyes fly open, and I shoot up, inhaling a gasping breath.
Holy fuck. What happened?
I glance around, seeing the dim library at home.
How did I get here?
Looking down, I see my shirt opened and wrinkled. I have scratches extending from my chest to waist. I bring a hand up, feeling the burning marks on my skin. In the center of my chest is a dark, massive bruise.
What?
My eyes widen when I see a body next to me, and I'm even more shocked to see it is Vera’s. I stare at her sleeping form. Her own shirt is torn open. She curls in a ball on the floor, like she can be protected from whatever the fuck is going on if she burrows next to me.
Flits of my memory dance in the back of my mind. A broken video reel that tries to play a movie, but only bits and pieces come together in a mismatched story.
We fucked.
I fucked her.
I swallow down a groan, sliding away from her as gently as possible. It was never my intent to sleep with my new sister. Not only are we supposed to be family, but she's a fucking wreck. She's a damn disaster.
She doesn't stir from my movements, so I stand up, wincing when it feels like I was hit by a truck.
What happened to me? Am I sick?
My body aches, and a splitting headache shoots between my eyes. I bring my fingers to my temples and rub, but it doesn't subside.
I step over strewn books laying on the floor. Did we fight? Did she throw a book at my head? That would clearly explain why I have such a killer headache right now.
