Chapter Four: Taker

Nancy's POV 

I walked home directly after leaving his office. I had enough money for a cab, but I needed the walk after what had just happened. It was a long walk from the faculty building, but I didn't really care.

The whole walk back, I kept replaying it in my head. How Pamela's mother had just barged in, standing in that doorway as she looked at us like this wasn't the first time she was seeing this. And Elliot, who was standing beside me, just casually reached for his glass of water as if nothing had happened.

I had waited for him to say something. One sentence would have been enough. But he hadn't. He said nothing. I didn't need him to claim me or anything... but still. I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets and walked faster.

The thing was, I had known better. I had known from the beginning. The first night, in that hotel room, I had known that I was just a thing for his pleasure. He had handed me cash from the bed, and I had cleaned myself up and left with money that paid for two weeks of my mother's treatment.

What we had was a transaction that I expected would stop on that first night. But then he called me to his office and presented the student assistant opportunity. That wasn’t my fault. But I had allowed myself to feel something for him when I was not supposed to.

By the time the apartment building came into view, I had made a decision about the whole thing. I was not going to think about it anymore today. Although Nathaniel had given me permission to stay out late, it was of no use.

I was going to go upstairs, drink water, sleep, and in the morning, I would figure out what came next. Mainly because that was all I could do right now. But first, I would have to call Pamela. She needs to understand that Elliot tricked me.

The lights were on in the living room. I almost walked past because Nathaniel always had the lights on for some reason; he often left them on when he fell asleep, resting on the couch after a long shift. I had covered him with a blanket more times than I could count over the past two years.

But when I stepped inside, he wasn't asleep.

He was on the couch with one arm stretched along the back of it, and Pamela was leaning into him, her head against his chest. His hand was in her hair and they were talking in low voices. Slight kisses on the lips. Irritating.

They both went still the moment the door closed.

Pamela sat up first as Nathaniel's arm dropped. For a moment, nobody said anything, and the three of us just stood there.

"Nancy… I-I can explain." Pamela broke the silence, and there was something in her voice that I didn't have a name for yet. She was already moving forward, standing up, her hands together in front of her like she was trying to soothe a wild animal... me. "I was going to tell you. We were going to tell you. It just - we didn't know how -"

"How long have you been fucking my brother?" I asked Pamela. I wasn't even looking at Nathaniel when I said it. I was looking directly at her because she was the one I needed an answer from.

Pamela blinked. "Nancy -"

"Four months," Nathaniel said from the couch, not hesitating at all.

Four months. So, it was before the semester started. Before the VIP party. Before any of this. While I had been managing doubles at the club, visiting Mom on weekday mornings before my first lecture, and getting fucked every night just to make ends meet... they had been doing this?

I almost laughed.

Finding Pamela here was good. Good because I could tell her about Elliot myself. I could make her cry about how I wanted to fuck her uncle, how he whimpers when begging for sex. How her mother thinks she would go to a convent, praying the rosary and singing hymns.

Nathaniel didn't deserve this either. He didn't deserve any of it. Here he was, smooching on the couch with Pamela, comfortable and easy, and I was standing at the door with dried tears on my face after being told by my professor's sister that I was nothing more than a fuck buddy to him. And Nathaniel got to have this.

He didn't deserve it. He was the reason Mom was in that hospital. He had been the one driving. He had survived while she lay in a bed that cost more per day than either of us earned in a week, and I had spent two years watching that and swallowing it because what was there to say? But if it had been me in that car, I would have protected her.

And now he had Pamela, too. He got the devoted older brother story; the one who dropped out and sacrificed everything, while I became something else entirely just to keep us above water, and nobody looked at me like that.

He took everything from me.

Pamela's phone rang. She looked down at it and immediately walked out on us, stepping into the hallway and pulling the door almost shut behind her. It only made my chest tighten more.

Nathaniel and I stood on opposite sides of the apartment in the silence she left, my fists clenched; any word from him would be followed by a punch. He opened his mouth, trying to talk to me, but a look from me silenced him. Good. Because I didn't want to hear it. Whatever he was going to say, I didn't want any of it right now.

"You used the money," I said. My voice came out low and steady in a way that surprised even me. "Every time I brought it home, you used it without asking where it came from. You paid the bills, you bought groceries, and you slept fine. And in the morning, you'd tell me not to overwork myself." I laughed, and it came out wrong. "You never once asked, Nathaniel."

"What are you talking about-"

"Not once. You just took it."

He was quiet.

"That's what you do," I said. "You take things. You took Mom's safety, you took my choices, and now you've taken the one person I had left. And you're standing there like I'm the one who should endure all your shortcomings."

His jaw tightened. "That's not fair."

"No," I agreed. "None of this is."

The door opened and Pamela came back in. She was pale, her eyes were wide and glassy, and she moved like she was about to faint. She stopped in front of me.

"Tell me it's not true," she said, barely above a whisper. "Nancy! Tell me my uncle isn't your lover. Tell me he hasn't been… cumming inside you. Tell me you haven't been suckling on his fucking dick… you… Whore!”

My heart dropped straight through the floor. Those were all lies. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. The words were there, somewhere behind my teeth, but my throat had closed completely. I was standing in front of my best friend, watching the look on her face shift from disbelief into something worse: betrayal. But she… she was undoubtedly the traitor, not me.

"I have. And he tasted like grapes every time. Yes, Pamela, your fucked-up uncle tastes like your favorite fruit." I finally got it out.

But she was already moving. She picked up her jacket, picked up her bag, and walked out. I stood there and stared at the closed door.

Nathaniel said my name, then hers, then hers again.

"Don't," I said. How pathetic. He thought with his dick, not his head. Mum always said that about some men; now, I can proudly say all of them are visibly the same, including my brother, Nathaniel.

He stopped. I could feel him watching me.

"Well, you can't stay here," Nathaniel said after a while. His voice was rough. "Not if you're going to keep-"

"I know. I know the rules. Your rules!" I said, dashing out of his presence in haste, as if I had prepared for this moment. My heart was rock hard. And I wished they'd drop dead.

I went to my room and found the bag at the back of the wardrobe; the same one I used for overnight hospital stays. I set it on the bed and started folding my clothes into it, one at a time. Meanwhile, Nathaniel sped out of the house. It was utterly absurd, how he ran after Pamela.

Or did I just wish Elliot did the same?