Evangeline
I step out of the shower, and there's an impatient knock at the door.
"Are you done???" Asher whines from outside. I lean over and open the door, then continue towelling off my hair. Asher slouches against the doorframe, his clothes and towel bundled under his arm. He's still in his school uniform, although it's a little rumpled. With his flaxen hair tousled and tie undone, he looks hot.
My heart jumps a little, before I squash the emotion down ruthlessly, albeit reluctantly. Ever since I came to terms with my feelings, I had begun to realise that our stepsibling relationship isn't all that normal. Step siblings who've known each other for barely six months do not show the type of affection mine do, at least to a certain degree. They do not get jealous when their stepsibling finds a partner. They do not sit on each other's laps, or kiss each other, mouth to mouth. At the mere recollection, I feel my cheeks burn, the phantom memory of Lucas's drunken kiss tingling on my lips.
So, the question is, what kind of relationship do I have, exactly, with my dear stepbrothers?
Asher pokes my arm, snapping me out of my reverie.
"Sorry. Was I long?"
Asher's eyes flick to the mass of hair I'm drying. I haven't been to the hair dresser in years, so my hair's gone all the way down to my waist, sometimes catching stray leaves and twigs or taking on the role of a rat's nest in the morning.
"I think your hair's to blame."
"Should I chop it all off, then?"
Asher shrugs. "If you want to."
Crash.
We jolt at the noise. Fast as lightning, Asher grabs my hand and we race downstairs. Despite the pounding fear of what's going on, all I feel is the warmth of Asher's grip. We take off down the stairs, two steps at a time, and burst into the living room, where the sound came from.
I shriek, a hand flying to my mouth.
Daniel sits on a prone-laying Owen astraddle, landing punch after punch on him. Each time his fist connects with Owen's flesh, thee is a resounding crack. One of Mariam's porcelain vases lies shattered to smithereens on the floor.
Asher and I scramble forward to yank Daniel off of Owen. In his fit of blind, oblivious rage, Daniel's strength is almost inhuman as he resists our pulling, yelling obscenities and flailing around like a madman.
"Stop it!" I scream.
Max and Christopher arrive at the scene due to the commotion, and it takes the two of them and Asher just to pry Daniel off of Lucas's friend. They half frog march Daniel away upstairs, with him still struggling feebly, insurmountable rage in his eyes cooling somewhat.
"Holy shit." Asher and I drop to our knees beside Owen. Our neighbour looks worse for wear. He is barely conscious, sporting a split lip, and his cheek is starting to swell up terribly.
"Ugh." He groans.
"Can you walk?" In this situation, my youngest stepbrother is impossibly calm, like his eldest brother Lucas. Owen's eyes are unfocused, but he nods. Owen grasps the corner of the table and struggles to pull himself up. He slumps back against the table leg, head lolling.
"Okay, maybe not." Asher murmurs.
"Evie, sling his arm over your shoulder. He can't walk straight." I nod numbly.
The Owen's current state is a sharp reminder of Dad's beatings. I push the horror of what happened and the memories it brings up out of my mind, into the box of oblivion. Later.
Asher brushes a hand through his hair. "Ready?"
Together, we hoist Owen up, and with much effort, bring him upstairs. "Your room," Asher instructs. We assist Owen in hobbling to the bed, where I pull the duvet up over the sheets before we let him flop onto the sheets.
I cringe, the turn to Asher. "I'll get Lucas and the first aid kit."
Only then do I notice the bead of blood welling up on Asher's palm. "You're hurt!" Asher glances down and frowns. "Huh."
"Stay here. I'll be right back."
Oml, y'all chomp up the new chapters so fast, idt I can keep up with ur reading speed T.T
Fear not, you have two chapters pre-prepared, and one more in the making!
Spoiler alert: tHE sTuFf u HaVe bEEn wAiTiNg f0R iS c0MiNGgGgg ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
