The Blackmail Dilemma

Dare Me To Think

"Hey, Ki," Dad said.

    "Hey." I walked into the kitchen and leaned against the island. He scrubbed at some dishes in the sink, an apron wrapped around his midsection. It reminded me of Mom.

    "How was your day?"

    I shrugged before realizing he couldn't see me. My nerves began to eat away at me, but I forced them to be silent. My thought were running in a labyrinth they would never find an exit to. I couldn't think of Stacie, or August, or the person I had become. I wished I couldn't think at all.

    He turned around and I realized his shirt was soaking wet. "Your mother was always better at this kind of stuff."

    I laughed softly, walking over and taking the rag from him. He moved to the side as I applied soap to the rag.

    "Dad, you forgot the soap. Again."

    "Oops."

    We both shared a soft laugh. It was then I realized I only felt okay and safe with Dad. Maybe that was why I wanted to protect him at all costs. Maybe that's why I wanted to help him; because he always helped me. He was the only other person who knew, and he still loved me. I didn't deserve to have a father like him.

    "Hey," he said gently.

    I turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow.

    "Ki, I've watched you become more and more distant. I need to know what's going on in that head of yours." He lightly tapped my head for emphasis.

    I turned back to the dishes, scrubbing a bit harder. I couldn't tell him. He couldn't take it. I couldn't take it.    

    "I'm okay. Just busy with school."

    "Your anxiety? Do you need another therapy appointment? I can make one."

    I shook my head. I didn't want to talk to a stranger about my problems. My therapist told me that I needed to tell her everything, but I couldn't. I couldn't tell her what I did; just about my anxiety. She just referred me to a psychiatrist and put me on meds.

"Ki-"

"I'm fine," I forced out, hating my sharp tone of voice. I dried the dishes and set them on the rack, then placed the rag in the sink. "I need to do some homework. Let me know if you need anything, and don't fall asleep at your desk again.

I walked away without another word, and my heart dropped with every step. I knew he cared, but he was the one person I would never hurt. Well, besides Nel. Nel was ignorant, but they said ignorance was bliss.

My phone rang in my back pocket as I stood facing the door to my room. I pulled it out of my pocket and answered.

"Hey, Stac."

"Ki, I have another task for you."

I let out a breath. "Okay, what is it?" I couldn't ignore her again. I knew the consequences.

"You know Kyle? The one a grade below us?"

"Yeah?"

"I need you to post something on his locker tomorrow."

"Stac-"

"You will do what I say, Kiley. Don't forget what I have on you," she hissed.

"Yeah, and don't forget the damage your claws can do," I snapped. I tensed. I didn't mean to do it. Not after the incident that morning. Yet, I couldn't help the thoughts of doubt creeping into the back of my mind. Something told me she no longer cared about my best interest.

Something told me she was turning into a monster, and I was doing her dirty work.

I tried to push the thought away. I tried to tell myself that I deserved this, but did I? What was happening to me? Why was I doubting an established system?

"Hello? Answer me! Don't you dare talk-"

"Sorry," I whispered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it."

"I'll email you the flyer," she hissed.

"Okay."

I heard a beep, and the call ended.

Walking into my room, I took a seat at my desk. I opened my laptop and waited. My fingers drummed against the wood of the desk, and my nerves tingled with anticipation. I hated playing the waiting game. I hated waiting with only my thoughts for company, and the tick of an imaginary clock playing in my mind. I knew Kyle hung out with my brother. What had he done to upset Stacie?

Why was she determined to get revenge on everyone and anyone?

I refreshed my email again, and the flyer still wasn't there. An annoyed grunt escaped me, and I leaned back in my chair. Pulling out my phone, I tried to text my brother.

Hey, want to come to my room for a movie marathon?

I doubted he would reply. A second later, my phone buzzed.

can't, studying with Ky @ libry. Not that i wnt anything 2 do with u.

His text language slightly hurt my brain, but his last sentence hurt my heart. I yearned to mend the broken sibling bond between us. I hated that my actions had driven us apart. I hated that the action had turned into a secret.

My brain remembered the first part of his text. He was with Kyle. My heart pounded. I thought of texting him back. Maybe he should warn Kyle? No, maybe I shouldn't do it. Maybe I should tell Stacie no.

No, no one can know.

I wanted to punch something. I wanted to feel the world burn along with my emotions and anxiety. I wanted to feel something other than the crushing weight of my current predicament. I just wanted to live. Yet, if I had a choice to live imprisoned or die, I'd choose the latter. And, I was imprisoned; in my mind, and by my friends.

No, they wanted the best for me. They knew what they were doing. They were the only ones that would accept me.

I refreshed my email yet again My breath caught in my throat as my mouse hovered over the dreaded email.

From: Stactheacereporter@gmail.com  at 5:28pm

I gasped.

The flyer didn't contain Kyle's face at all.

It contained my brother's.

_____

It's a bit short, but I wanted to end it there.

So, why do you think her brother is on the flyer?

Thoughts on her 'friends'?

Also, just to be clear, Kiley and I's opinions on therapy differ. It's personally helped me, and there's no shame in it, or in needing medicine for help. :)

-Sarah