The Sins Of My Brother in law

I was nineteen when Vincent first touched me, and I’ve never forgiven myself for letting him.I’d just finished my first semester of college with nineteen credits, two all-nighters a week, and a newfound ability to drink black coffee without flinching. The drive home had been long, rain-slicked highways and holiday traffic crawling north. By the time I pulled into the driveway, every muscle ached, and all I wanted was silence, a shower, and my own bed.But the house felt different the moment I stepped inside. It was a bit too quiet.My parents were away at a weekend conference in the city, some banking retreat Dad couldn’t skip. Laura had texted earlier, “crashing early. Thesis kicked my ass. Vincent’s coming over to help me finish edits. Don’t wait up, baby sis.”I wasn’t even planning to.I dropped my duffel in the foyer, kicked off my wet boots, and headed upstairs. The hallway was dark except for the faint glow under Laura’s door, probably her desk lamp. She’d always been the resp

Three years.That’s how long I let Vincent ruin me, one stolen moment at a time.It didn’t stay confined to our family home for long. Once we crossed that line, the hunger grew teeth. We became experts at lies, small ones at first, then bigger, more elaborate. He’d tell Laura he had a late client meeting. I’d say I was studying at the library or crashing at a friend’s. We’d meet in places that felt safe because they were anonymous, like cheap motels on the edge of town, his car in deserted parking lots, once even the back room of a bar during a weekday afternoon when no one was looking.Every encounter left me higher and lower than the last.The first year was raw need... we couldn’t get enough. He’d show up at my off-campus apartment with takeout as an excuse, and we’d devour each other instead of the food. He’d push me onto the kitchen counter, scatter my notebooks, hike my skirt up and take me hard and fast while I bit his shoulder to stay quiet. My roommate was usually in class, b