Step Brother: I'll be your Regret
It was a vintage 2015 luxury sedan, draped in a heavy gray tarp.
My heart felt like it was stopping. He keeps this for sentimental reasons, I told myself. It’s just a car.
I walked toward it, my boots clicking on the concrete. I reached for the edge of the tarp.
"Don't do it, Maldie," I whispered. "Just go to bed. Don't look."
But my hand moved on its own. I yanked the tarp back, the heavy fabric groaning as it slid off the metal.
The car was Black.