Domestic Bliss

00.

When Nate and Grace Jacobs were eleven years old, they found their dad's porn collection. Their dad, Cal, was obsessive - and they quickly realized that the colored cases and placement were no accident.

It was an elaborate code, one to ensure that nobody fucked with his shit.

Every video was basically the same. They'd drink, make small talk. And then their dad would fuck the shit out of them.

By twelve, Nate had adopted a rigid diet and workout schedule. Within a year, his body fat dropped from twenty three percent to six percent.

Grace, on the other hand, had stopped eating all together and her BMI dropped below a healthy range. Her parents shrugged it off as a consequence of her sudden growth sprout.

Nate joined the football team as a freshman and quickly excelled. By the years end, he was not only the starting quarter back, but the team captain.

Grace had started kickboxing at the local Muay Thai gym the summer before starting high school. If you ask me, that what's saved her.

Nate loved the crowds, the pats on the back, the cheering. The feeling of winning.

Grace loved the sound of hitting things. She loved the burn in her lungs when she pushed herself over the limit, the bruises and rope burns she got sparring in the ring. She loved the feeling of fighting back.

Their older brother Aaron was a fuck-up. They could tell their father didn't like Aaron. Didn't think he had guts or brains or half a fucking clue.

And Nate agreed. He didn't talk to his dad all that much, but he didn't need to - they had a good relationship. He didn't like his mother, either. She was weak and a pushover. Plus she didn't take care of herself.

Grace also didn't have a good relationship with their mother. She reminded her of everything she was afraid of becoming. Besides, she had never protected her. A mother is supposed to protect her daughter, right? Right? Even if it meant protecting her from her own husband.

Grace loved her brothers, though. And they loved her too, each in their own way.

Aaron was never present enough, neither mentally nor physically, to really help with anything. But his bedroom door was always open for her if she needed to talk. He wasn't half as dumb as their father thought him to be.

He was also the one who introduced her to weed.

The twins' relationship was a bit more complicated. They loved, but didn't like each other.

Nate thought his sister was too stubborn, too moody. She drank too much, skipped school too much and could act like a real bitch. He told himself he didn't care if boys called her a tease, a whore, a mess, a fuck up - but he did.

Grace thought her twin was too controlling, too obsessive, too aggressive. She hated how perfect he pretended their life was. She hated he was becoming more and more like their father. She hated she had to defend him and search for excuses for his actions, again and again and again.

But make no mistake. The Jacobs twins would kill for each other.

Nate made a long mental checklist of things he liked and disliked about women.

He liked tennis skirts and jean cut offs, but not the kind where you could see the pockets. He liked ballet flats and heels. He hated sneakers and dress shoes, but was fine with sandals, as long as they were worn with a fresh pedicure.

He liked thigh gaps and hated cankles. He liked tan lines and long necks, slender shoulders, he liked good posture and fruit-scented body mist. He liked full lips and small noses. He liked chokers, lacy ones with the delicate patterns.

He hated girls who sat like boys, talked like boys and acted like boys. But there's nothing on planet Earth he hated more than body hair.

Grace, though? She liked the chase, the flirting, no strings attached - girls, boys, it made no difference, as long as they were good with never taking it further than a heated make out session and knowing she probably wouldn't remember their name the next day.

The only rule she ever really followed was never kissing the same person twice - little did she know how things were about to change.