My Brother, The Devil ✔

15

Blair POV.

I had a long dream.

In the dream, I felt like I was thrown into the middle of the boundless sea. The waves kept hitting my body, violently sucking me into the whirlpool, and then throwing me back into the sky. I tried my best to resist the impact of the waves, but eventually I had to open my eyes.

What comes into view is still the same gray ceiling. I regain consciousness and feel pain in my temples. I subconsciously want to escape from this bed that confines me, but in the end, I just move my fingers slightly.

I am too exhausted, from my muscles to my insides.

And the culprit behind all this is sitting on the sofa with a computer in his arms. He gives me a fleeting glance and walks to the bedside, revealing a smile: "Good morning."

I grab the sheet beneath me, take a deep breath, and sit up.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Take a shower."

"I'll take you there." He extends his hands towards me.

I push his hands away, wrap myself in the sheet, and get up. The next moment, my legs go weak, and I almost fall.

George catches me in time, chuckling, "What did I say?"

The sheet falls to the ground in our struggle, leaving my body fully exposed to the air. His cum has dried on my skin, leaving translucent traces resembling cicada wings.

George glances at me, and pretends to be sorry, "We played late last night, and I didn't have time to clean you up, sorry."

I clench my fists, staring at him with resentment, and angrily mutter, "Bastard."

But George does't care. He carries me into the bathroom as effortlessly as carrying a doll, puts me in the bathtub, and then turns around to get me bottles and jars.

"Do you prefer rose-scented shower gel or lavender?"

"Get out." I stare at his back.

"Milk scent isn't bad either, actually."

"Get out." I repeat.

He places bottles of various scented shower gels by the bathtub, then kneels down on one knee, smiling at me, "Is there anywhere on your body that I haven't seen?"

I turn on the tap and aim the showerhead at him.

Today, he seems to be in a good mood. His shirt and pants are soaked, yet he doesn't get angry. He simply raises his hands in surrender, "Alright, alright, kittens also have temper."

Seeing him walk away, I'm still uneasy. I struggle to stand by the edge of the bathtub, then lock the bathroom door and slowly make my way back. As I pass by a mirror, I turn to look at myself in it — swollen eyes, neck and chest covered in hickeys. Trembling, I avert my gaze and return to the bathtub, vigorously scrubbing my body.

I spent a long time in the bathroom. When it is filled with water steam, I change into pajamas and walk out, only to find George still here. Leaning against the wall, he hands me a phone.

"Call Barbara." He pauses, then says, "The man you slept with in Country B saw me taking you away, and he contacted Barbara. She's looking for you everywhere."

I lower my head, looking at his phone, and swallow.

"Tell her everything is fine." George takes my hand, placing the phone in my palm, "Don't play tricks, if you don't want her and her family to get into trouble."