Stepbrother (Sequel to Stockholm Syndrome)

49

"Lucas Rose, don't you dare!" I called as he walked away. He pulled a pack of cigarettes and his lighter from the same place he kept his alcohol.

"Leave me alone, Madeline." He murmured, walking out the front door.

"Luke, you haven't smoked since you were seventeen. You've been clean for four years, don't start now." I called, running after him as he took off on the trail towards the river at a fast pace. I was sprinting, but my short legs were no match for his long ones as he jogged on.

After a while, he stopped running and found his way on top of a huge boulder. There, he sat with his legs dangling off, looking sullener than I had ever seen.

"Madeline, just go away." He murmured, twirling an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

"Luke, please don't do this." I craned my neck up to look at him.

"It's too much." He replied. My head spun with ways I could coax him out of his long-fought addiction.

"I couldn't bear to think that what I've said to you caused you to fall back into your bad habits." I tried.

"Quit centering this around yourself," He growled.

"No!" My voice cracked with sadness. "It's the only way I can get through to you. You'll never care how self-destructive you are. But for some reason, you can't stand the idea of hurting me. This is the only way I can get through to you!" I retorted, exasperation seeping through my voice.

Luke's hand began shaking and his lighter dropped close to my feet.

"Madeline, hand it back." He instructed as I picked it up. I shook my head timidly, trying – and failing - to fake strength. He huffed and slid down the rock. He held his hand out for me to put the lighter in.

"No," I responded to his physical instruction.

"Madeline-" he cut himself off, not bothering to waste his breath. He took the hand that clenched tightly to the lighter and tried to pry my fingers open.

"No!" I screamed. We fought over it for a moment before I took it and held it close to my chest, crumpling onto my knees and huddling over the fist that still held the lighter. Luke stood over me and I could feel the intensity of his eyes digging into me. I began crying and I couldn't tell if it was because the position was familiar to me because this had been how I shied away from my dad's beatings, or if it was because the guilt of the idea that my actions would cause Luke to continue smoking was too much to handle.

I found myself bracing my body for the feeling of Luke hitting me. When his hand met my skin, minutes later, it was not to hit me, but rather, trying to help me up. I cried out in shock, so prepared to be hit that his sudden touch seemed much worse than it was.

Luke seemed to sense what was going on and he was immediately crouching next to me, trying to console me. A sudden wave of hot anger burned over my body. I pushed Luke's hands off me.

"No!" I yelled again. But this time, it was in anger rather than terror.

"Madeline-"

"No, Luke, I'm tired of this crap! I'm tired of my life being dominated by someone else. And I'm even more tired of you not being able to let your emotions out because somehow, I become so disconcerted that you have to pretend to be stoic for me! Hell, be sad, be angry, be whatever you want, don't worry about me. You're pissed right now, I know that, and you don't have to be nice to me all the time just because you feel guilty doing otherwise. Just don't smoke!" I yelled, pushing away from him as he tried to quiet me. "What? What are you worried about? No one will hear me; we live in the middle of freakin' nowhere. I could scream at the top of my lungs and no one would be the wiser." I snapped.

"That's not completely true..." Luke muttered.

"And who cares if they do hear? Huh? If no one around here cared about the fact that you kidnapped me, why would they care about our argument?" I retorted.

"Madeline, just calm-"

"Telling me to calm down is the last thing you should be doing," I growled.

"Just give me the lighter-"He started. I chucked it into the river. "Madeline- just..." He wasn't used to this type of behavior from me.

"I'm going back to the house."