Her Bully | BBANGSAZ

T H I R T Y F O U R

H A N N I
—

"So, what do I owe the pleasure of you standing outside my porch again?"

My half-sister Rei asks as I play with the straps of my duffel bag, rolling my eyes at her as she doesn't let me in immediately.

Licking my lips, I cock my hip to the side and nudge my chin at her.

"Nice to see you too, Rei," I reply shortly, already moving forward to enter my old house.

Rei backs away and closes the door, watching me as I drop my bag to the ground and turn around to face her again.

"I need to talk to you."

Arching an eyebrow, she hums, crossing her arms together.

"Is this about your fake girlfriend again?"

Body jerking, I snap my head to my sister and flash her a glare.

"What?" I hiss, gritting my teeth together.

Rei rolls her eyes and chuckles, telling me like it was an obvious fact that I should know by now.

"Oh, don't play games with me Hanni, ever since you brought her to my party—every time you visit, you just talk about her."

I hold a finger up and frown.

"I don't always talk about her," I huff, shaking my head.

"I only visited once after that night—that doesn't count as always," I explain further, leaning back on one of the couches.

"Besides, I need advice for something."

Rei shrugs her shoulders and puts her hand out, gesturing for me to go on and spill it. "Well?"

Sighing, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and scratch the back of my neck nervously.

"There's something wrong with me," I mutter, biting my lower lip as Rei arches an eyebrow at me.

"There's always been something wrong with you," she jokes, stopping her laugh as she catches my hard scowl. "—I'm joking, calm down."

Shaking my head, I pinch my arm and shuffle my feet together, completely frustrated at what I've been discovering about myself lately.

It's freaking annoying—this doesn't—shouldn't happen to me.

Especially someone like me who's mean, a bitch, snob, and every bad adjective you can say.

"Hanni? Are you okay, sis?" Rei asks me, eyes that are dark brown like mine turning into a darker shade of black as she walks to me slowly with caution as if knowing that one wrong move can break me.

And maybe it will, maybe it won't—I don't know because I don't do feelings.

"No. I don't think I am," I admit honestly, tugging on my pony in frustration as I walk around the clean tiles like I'm mad—which I probably am.

"I'm not okay and there's something definitely wrong with me," I huff, chomping down on my lower lip hard enough to relieve the frustration.

"And why? What's bothering you?" she asks me, and before I know it she's already right in front of me, rubbing my shoulders up and down in a soothing manner.

"You can tell me anything, Hanni."

And yes, she knows that.

My sister knows that because she's the one and only sole person who would understand me—that would get my shit because I've never had any parents to do that for me because they're too busy being in love to notice the little things, like me when I was a baby.