Bully stepbrother のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 81 - チャプター 90

MADISONQuickly, I plop down opposite him, my legs folded, my eyes almost disconnecting from their sockets.He didn’t say his mom drowned him, did he? I must have heard him wrong.With a throbbing heart, I ask, “Caden, did you say your mother drowned you?”“Every day, for seven days.” His lips press into a thin line as he watches me gape at him.“Why would she do that? I don’t understand.”I really don’t. Okay, I know Dad was always creating nothing into something to find flaws in Caden. You might even see it as hate, even though some people say a parent can never hate their child.But his mother? As in a whole mother? I never saw that coming.“I don’t either,” he answers quietly, his eyes downcast while his hands play with the fabric of his shorts.I shift closer until our thighs are touching.“What happened?” Flustered, I ask, “Caden, I’d love to listen. Do you really want to talk about it?”He peeks at me briefly, then responds, “She decided to leave after the seventh time.”His mo

CADEN“I am so excited about this. I can’t believe Kane has such a good heart even though he went through prison,” Mad says beside me.“Mmm…” I mumble, not wanting to talk about him.Don’t get me wrong. I am grateful he talked to the lieutenant and got me the freedom that I didn’t deserve. It’s just that I don’t know how I should feel about him.He was that man who ended the life of my sister. Then stopped my father from hitting me. He was that man I wanted to crush life for. The man whose daughter I almost killed. Yet the man who sets me free with no single record of the violence I did.Fuck, I am uncertain about all of this.Granted, I feel gratified I’m able to buckle up next to Mad, flying first class to New York.But with every ticking second in the plane, it’s like I’m moving closer to my grave.It’s suffocating. Nerve-racking. I’m only doing it for Mad.I can’t stay away from her, just like the past four years.She makes a foodgasm sound that snaps me out of my thoughts, and I

CADENThe room is quiet as the sun barely rises and I struggle with blurry vision. Squeezing my eyes with my free hand, I blink rapidly before finally getting a clear view of the almost pitch-black surroundings.Birds chirp on the balcony, creating a sweet melody despite the cold weather. Even with the room heater on, Mad and I are cuddling under a thick comforter layered over additional blankets.I yawn and glance at the nightstand clock. It reads five in the morning.I’ve only had two hours of sleep, but it’s enough.It’s not in my protocol to sleep until daylight.Yes, my parents made sure I was awake before sunrise every day until I became this typical version of myself.The lovely scent of Mad’s hair instantly descends upon me. Then the reality of this whole situation hits me: we shouldn’t be lying here together at my father’s. I shouldn’t give him a reason to change his perspective on Mad. I shouldn’t give him more reason to throw unnecessary fits.Last night, I know I should’ve

CADENI’d get over the past if it were something that obeyed my command, like all the shitheads ready to worship me.But there are some things that won’t just fade away, and my stained past is one of those things.Even though I’m not desperate for change, it doesn’t mean I don’t fear for myself. Because I sure as hell do fear. Happiness is something my past has obscured, bringing only the darkest of days, and anyone as smart as Mad would know I’ve dwelled in them.Sometimes it terrifies me more than I can begin to put into words, like right now. Having Dad right around my fingers is like a longer slide on Poseidon’s Revenge ride. Thrilling at the beginning, but once you realize you won’t stop dipping and there’s no near end, you panic.My dad deserves a lot of karma bouncing back to him, but he doesn’t deserve me almost throttling him to death.I don’t want to be violent, but it seems that’s where I’m climbing these days. And I guess I reach the cliff today when I almost make my fathe

JUDEOnce upon a time, I wanted a son, not a daughter.As they say, we all need love in our lives. Some even believe it holds the largest proportion of human survival.It was stolen from me when my mother died, and I was forced to live with my stepfather, who held me hostage when I was only eleven and had nowhere to go but do as he say.There are certain memories that never fade, and mine are those days when that man would make me please him in ways we both knew were abusive and improper for a child, in exchange for food in my stomach and a roof over my head.The thing is, I only saw men as beasts.I mean, if you look at it the way I do, my father was the kind who used his belt to whip me until he was satisfied with the marks he left.And then I was raised by a child molester. A bisexual pedophile who was obsessed with liquor and baseball games on his fucked-up cathode-ray tube television.Those did it.The pain lived in me. It even pushed me to study hard in school and earn scholarsh