The First Time He Touched Me

“Him? Mom, you’re kidding, right? This is Uncle Sebastien, dad’s best friend.” I said, forgetting how loud I was.

Lots of emotions ran through me. I wanted an explanation. I wanted to know how… what happened, and why he chose to marry my mother.

Sebastien didn’t blink. He didn’t try to explain or reassure me. All he did was look down at my legs. That look alone made me shift back, and for the first time, I walked away.

I literally walked away from Mom, from everything. I didn’t know where I was going, all I knew was that I needed to get out of there.

“Don’t worry, poor girl will come back to her senses, she’s just dazed.” Mom laughed, but underneath that laughter held something new.

Panic?

I guess not.

I walked toward the entrance, forgetting the fact that reporters and paparazzi were outside, being blocked from entry by the security guards.

“It’s her!”

They screamed, cameras flashing. I was supposed to be scared, or seek cover. But now, I felt numb. I carried a pain that wasn’t even mine to carry.

The ultimate betrayal. My dad’s best friend marrying my mother. What was even the reason? Uncle Sebastien wasn’t a fan of Mom when Dad was still with us. In fact, he never liked her.

And Mom made it known to me growing up that Uncle Sebastien was the problem. He was the one who ruined her marriage with Dad.

But now, it didn’t even seem like it, because all I saw in my mother’s eyes whenever she looked at him was… different.

Admiration.

Submission.

Love?

Cameras continued clicking, the reporters smiling as they found something to blog about or talk over.

“The daughter of the renowned Olympic gold medalist, sad on her mother’s wedding day.”

But that was the least of my worries now. I dragged myself out of the venue through another door where the paparazzi hadn’t noticed.

I walked through the bustling street, lost in thought.

My first rebellion. My first act of defiance. The thing I could never do whenever I was back to my senses, I was beginning to do little by little.

“Hey!”

Someone yelled from the corner. A blond guy, taller than me and probably a bit older, sat on a bench outside a park.

“Pretty girls like you shouldn’t frown, you know,” he taunted. “It’s quite sunny today. You look like you just came from the MET.”

I rolled my eyes in annoyance, not in the mood for conversation. But he didn’t stop.

“I don’t know what you’re going through, but this will help you. I reassure you.”

He pointed a blue object at me, something that looked like a lighter. It caught my attention and made me stop.

My head screamed at me to walk away, but my body refused. Instead, I walked toward him, curiosity getting the best of me.

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing at it.

He looked at it, then at me, and laughed. “You don’t know what this is?”

I shook my head genuinely. I had no idea what it was. I hadn’t seen it before, and even if I had, I wouldn’t know what it was called or what it did.

“What are you, twelve?” he scoffed, playing with it in his hands before bringing it to his lips. “This is called a vape.”

“Vape?” I repeated. “What’s that?”

He placed it between his lips, dragged slowly, and thick vapor escaped from his nose and mouth.

“You’re too innocent. How old are you?” he coughed, taking another drag.

“Eighteen,” I answered, not thinking twice about my situation.

He stood up, waving the vape at me with a smile plastered on his lips.

Why? Was I too young? Was he embarrassed, or amused?

“Eighteen,” he repeated, walking toward me. Then he whispered to himself, “Definitely not a minor, but so innocent. What a sweet gift.”

I frowned in confusion. I honestly had no idea what he meant. Wasn’t innocence a good thing? Wasn’t being pure the ideal thing, according to Mom?

“I have something even better for you,” he whispered, a corny smirk forming on his lips.

Before I could ask, he brought out a neatly wrapped roll and a lighter.

“One puff, and all your pain, all your problems, will disappear.”

“That’s crazy,” I muttered. “Isn’t that cigarette?”

He walked toward me softly, held my hand, and led me to the bench. His eyes were warm and gentle.

“No, no… this isn’t cigarette. Never is this cigarette.”

“This is a toy. Once you puff it, you’ll be happy, and you’ll need more.”

He lit the roll until the tip glowed red.

I shuddered slightly as he stretched it toward me.

His eyes begged me to take it. His smile promised that everything would be fine.

At that moment, I forgot Mom’s first warning. The second time.

“Never accept things from strangers.”

I took it, my hands shaking with curiosity and an underlying fear.

His face lit up instantly.

“That’s it. Now, put it in your mouth, drag softly, hold it in your throat, then puff it out.”

Oh God…

I slowly brought the roll to my lips. The noises around me faded into background sound.

Then I did it.

I dragged it.

The moment the smoke entered my throat, I coughed bitterly. A nasty taste coated my tongue. I shoved the roll back at him.

“Take it,” I snapped. “It tastes nasty.”

He collected it without protest. He didn’t ask why I rejected it. He only studied me like I was some puzzle waiting to be solved.

I stood up, but suddenly fell back onto the bench, my head spinning and my vision wavering.

What’s happening to me?

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, touching my hand softly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I pulled my hand away from his and tried standing again.

But I didn’t realize what I had taken was strong enough to weaken me instantly, making me collapse back onto the chair.

For the first time, I was afraid to admit it.

Mom was right.

…

“She’s awake! Sir Dmitri!”

A kind woman screamed excitedly the moment I opened my eyes. My head throbbed painfully.

I looked around the room. It was richly designed and decorated, with a large window overlooking the city skyline.

Where was I?

This wasn’t the street. This wasn’t Mom’s house. This was—

The door opened, and my heart raced faster than I could count.

I expected Mom. Maybe the family doctor.

Instead, he walked in.

Uncle Sebastien, dressed in an expensive tailored suit. His face was expressionless, his eyes empty of emotion, and the woman beside me immediately bowed and rushed out of the room.

I tried sitting up, but the lingering effect of whatever I had taken still ran through my veins.

“Uncle S—”

He raised a finger, silencing me instantly.

I flushed, not in anger this time, but embarrassment. So many questions still raced through my head.

“Your mother is fuming downstairs,” he said casually, opening the curtains wider. “I told her to relax.”

He turned and approached the bed with slow, authoritative grace, his hands behind his back, his eyes sizing me up.

“Running away was reckless,” he lectured, his voice deeper than I remembered. He looked older now. A few lines sat at the corners of his eyes.

But I wouldn’t lie.

He was strikingly attractive. His hand wrapped around one of my legs firmly, though not enough to hurt.

“Your ankle,” he murmured. “It’s better now, isn’t it?”

I frowned and tried pulling my foot away, but he held it firmly.

“Let go.”

He ignored my protest and brought out the familiar ointment tube the weird driver had given me earlier.

Then I froze.

The weird driver had been him all along. Then my eyes caught something near the edge of his collar.

A crimson stain.

Was it… blood?

He noticed my stare and smoothly adjusted his collar to hide it.