[COMPLETED BUT WONT LET ME PRESS THE COMPLETED BUTTON AHAHHA]
Aurora Lockheart was once the sunshine girl-bright, kind, and full of life. But one night changed everything, leaving her a shadow of who she used to be.
A year later, just as she's be...
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When I crossed the street and went into my house, I was already on full alert for potential run-ins with my mother's asshole stepson. Every creak of the floorboard, every faint noise, had my nerves on edge. I could almost feel him before I saw him. However, finding him in my room—my one safe place—was something I hadn't anticipated in years.
The minute my eyes landed on Mark Allen, casually sitting on my bed like he owned the place, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention. He had no right being here, in my space, and it felt like a violation all over again.
Immediately, a clammy, feverish sweat broke out across my skin. For a moment, I thought maybe I was coming down with whatever Hugh had, but the truth was right in front of me. I wasn't sick; I was terrified, but for good reason. "Get out of my room," I said, my voice low and barely controlled.
"Still as messy as ever, I see," he replied, looking around the room with that same lazy, arrogant expression that made me want to punch him. He didn't move, didn't even flinch at my words, and I felt my pulse quicken, fury and fear rising in equal measure.
"I said get out of my room," I repeated, louder this time, but still, he sat there, like he was in charge, like I didn't have any authority even in my own home.
"That's not the way you're supposed to greet your brother, Gibs," he said, his voice casual, completely unaffected by the tension radiating from me. The way he twisted the word brother made my stomach churn. He leaned back on his elbows, smirking as if this were all a game to him. "Didn't Sadhbh teach you how to treat people by now?"
"You're one to talk," I shot back, not daring to step further into the room. I stayed by the door, ready to bolt if I had to, my heart pounding in my chest. "You have a lot of fucking nerve to come in here."
"And why's that, Gibs?" he asked, rising to his feet as casually as if he were about to go for a stroll. His movements were slow, calculated, and I hated how my body reacted to his presence, every muscle tight and ready for a fight I wasn't sure I could win.
I narrowed my eyes, rage simmering beneath the surface. "You know why."
He tilted his head, pretending to be confused, that smug smile never leaving his face. "Nope. I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You know why," I spat, my voice trembling, though I tried to keep it steady. I hated that tremor, hated that even now, after all these years, he could still reduce me to that terrified child. "You know what you did."
Mark took a step toward me, his eyes darkening with that familiar, twisted amusement. "And what did I do?" he asked, his voice dripping with condescension.
My throat tightened, and the words felt stuck, like they always had, locked behind a wall of fear and shame that I could never seem to break down. "You know," was all I could manage, my voice so small it made me feel sick. It was like I was seven years old again, trapped in a nightmare I couldn't escape.
