Hating, Hurting: A Stepbrother Bully Story

by Iris Taylor

  The knitted brows and frown were reassuring. It was Cole. "Where - where's Hans?"

  In the morning - or maybe afternoon - sun, I could see his face tighten, his eyes turn glassy. He shot from the chair and mumbled sorry before leaving the room. The sudden movement made my head hurt, even as I stared at the door, wondering what had transpired in those moments I had lain unconscious.

  ***

  Marcus was waiting in his Lexus outside the automatic hospital doors. I couldn't read his face, although he appeared to try and smile at me. He had only visited once in my week-long hospital stay, and my mother hadn't volunteered any information as to why that was. I tried my best not to limp towards the car, not to show that my back and hips were still aching. I couldn't imagine what he must feel, knowing his son had kidnapped and assaulted me, but he had to know I didn't place any blame at him, not at all. If Hans had done all that, Marcus had to realize too, that it was his other son who had saved me. My mother had told me the story as gently and as succinctly as possible, and I knew if she could spare me some details, she would have. I wondered if Marcus had just come back from the cemetery, but felt it imprudent to ask. I was saddened by Hans' premature death, by the monsters he must have faced alone in his mind that drove him to carry out such unspeakable acts. I was saddened by the burden the family had to face, even though I didn't grasp it fully. But I was also glad it was over, that I was safe, that the girls in Gray Lake had one less predator to worry about.

  There was a heavy, almost tangible silence as we drove back to the house, and I wondered if it was because they couldn't discuss anything with me in the car. I glanced at my mother, noting the shadows under her eyes, and wondered if I wasn't wholly the reason behind them. It will sort itself out soon, I thought as a wave of exhaustion threatened to pull me under. It had to, for my mom's sake.

  ***

  A few days of home rest did wonders for my body and state of mind. Susan fussed over me, her wonderful cooking helping put color back into my cheeks, even though she herself looked like she needed fussing over. Her pale skin seemed more sallow, and her cheeks more hollowed out. I had caught her crying in the kitchen when she thought she was alone once. But it was the general atmosphere in the house, expected in the wake of a death, but with an extra air of something else – guilt. A dirty, oily emotion difficult to expunge, hanging like a cloud over everyone and everything. His pictures were everywhere in the mansion, showcasing in each one that beautiful white smile, clear brown eyes, the boyish ease he had that won everyone over. Hiding, underneath it, someone desperately in need of help, whose calculated moves were never anticipated.

  I found Cole one day sitting in the movie room by himself, staring at the blank space in front of him, a Fast and Furious movie playing, soundless, in the background. He looked so forlorn, his eyes swollen and shuttered, that I hesitated before joining him. Without a word, I sat down and took his hand, and he squeezed it without turning. We sat there in silence, images flashing before our eyes, and I wondered what was running through Cole's mind. I knew he was grieving Hans, knew it would take a long time to move past what had happened, maybe forever. I didn't have siblings, let alone a twin, one I was close to and spent most of my time with, so I didn't know what he was going through. I imagined it akin to losing my mom, but it was something inconceivable to me. I squeezed his hand tighter. I stayed quiet, the silence enveloping us, until I felt his arms go around me, me hugging him back, and soon, felt his head drop onto my shoulders, and tears begin to wet my shirt. He drew in shuddering breaths as I rubbed his back, waiting for his sobs to stop.

  "I didn't - I didn't see it coming," he said through pained gasps. I continued rubbing his back, willing him to unload everything, to reassure him I wasn't going anywhere. "I should've. Hans - he was always two steps ahead of me. But I should have known he would escape that place and do something like this." His sobs started up again, and it wrecked my heart to hear the guilt lacing every word, every low, wounded cry.

  "It's not your fault, Cole," l whispered.

  "The thing is - I sort of knew. Knew that, deep down, Hans hated everything I got close to. That's why it didn't surprise me when he tried to hurt Monica. A little late, but nothing I hadn't expected before." he looked at me guiltily. "I guess he saw how much time I was beginning to spend with you." His eyes, thick-lashed and brimming with tears, looked at me with both despair and a sort of pleading, maybe for me to understand, maybe for forgiveness, so that I brought my arms around him to hug him again.

  "Don't blame yourself, Cole." I knew it wouldn't be easy, getting him to believe Hans' actions were his alone, that Cole wasn't expected to look over his shoulder like that.

  "Cole, who's Nathan?"

  He startled in my arms. "You heard." It wasn't a question.

  "Hans kept on saying his name." I hesitated before continuing. "He...he said, you...killed him." I wished, right at that moment, that I could turn back time, so that those horrible words didn’t come out of my mouth the way they did.

  But all Cole did was release a long, heavy sigh. "He's our brother. When - when Hans and I were four, Nathan, who was two at the time -" he took a deep breath as he pulled away and looked straight into my eyes, "Nathan and I were in the bathtub. We were playing around in the water. Nathan, he - he was the horse, and I climbed onto him." His eyes shone in terror as he looked into the distance. "By the time I got off him, he was -" and he shuddered before continuing, "he was blue. He wasn't moving. I hadn't noticed him struggling, Elle, I hadn't realized my brother had drowned..."

  Words failed me as the sheer horror of his words sunk in. What he had to be going through, thinking both siblings had died in his hands...

  "No," I replied vehemently. "That is not your fault. Just as Hans' death is not your fault, either.”

  Cole shook his head, and slumped forwards, cradling his head in his arms. I hated it. I hated that he carried with him through his childhood a burden he never should have even considered bearing. “Cole, you were only four. What would you know? Who was supposed to be babysitting you? They shouldn't have left you and your brother alone, not in the bathroom."

  He stilled. I pushed on. "Where was your mom?"

  He looked away. "She was...on her phone." He looked at me again. "I only know this because it's the main reason behind my parents' divorce. All those years after Nathan's death that they stayed together...they were horrible. When they finally divorced when we were fifteen, the shouting and bitterness stopped. But...I was too selfish to see that it was a good thing they were not together anymore."

  He turned and took my hands. "Ella. I owe you an apology. If not for Hans' actions, for hurting you so many times when you arrived here. I don't expect your forgiveness, but please hear me out. I really - when I first saw you in the car at the airport - I immediately hated you on principle. You were one of the many things that proved to me how bad a turn my life had taken. I blamed my parents' failed marriage on me. My brother's death was because of me - two brothers, now." He choked on the words. "So when I saw you that day, I vowed with everything I had that I would drive you away, both you and your mom."

  I rubbed circles on the back of his hand, urging him to continue, to unburden. I knew I had forgiven him a while back, but it seemed that he hadn’t forgiven himself.

  "Even though you were the sweetest, most undeserving of people to have to bear the brunt of all my anger...I'm so sorry, Ella. I'm so, so sorry."

  I let him find solace in my embrace, knowing that my presence next to him was what he needed, more than any words I could say. I vowed he would see that he was a victim of circumstances, even though it drove him to lash out at times. He had led a nightmare of a life, despite outward appearances. Bearing a deep guilt no one had to carry, one that I believed he hadn't expressed to anyone - at least not enough to be unshackled from it. I wanted him to see how I saw him, a young boy left to believe he was at fault, and to grow up thinking he had killed his brother, and for this, I vowed to stay by his
side, no matter what.

  "Cole. You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing."

  Chapter 28

  A year later

  Cole

  I stood, looking out the window, although not seeing the view spread out in front of me. Not able to, not when my world had been turned upside down, a part of my soul ripped away from me. Hans had been buried right next to Nathan, and I swore when I had left the cemetery, a part of me had stayed behind, buried with him. The void inside my chest hadn't stopped aching, and there wasn't a single day I didn't think of him, of what I could've done differently. I remembered that day despite the anguish and despair that had blinded me - and I knew it would never, ever fail to haunt me for the rest of my life.

  "Cole, it's time to go," Ella said softly. I turned to look at her, the girl who had stayed by my side the entire time, her golden hair now brushing her shoulders, soft and beautiful like spun silk. I bent to pick up the bags at my feet, and glanced around the living room, trying to commit it to memory one last time. It would be a while before I would come back here, anyway. I was going to major in Psychology in college, with classes starting next week. I had missed all the signs of a troubled Hans, and couldn't let it go. Perhaps, I could help others to try to assuage the gnawing guilt inside me for not having helped Hans when he had needed it. Whether it would work or not was a separate issue. The important thing was, I had to try. I glanced towards Ella, and nodded.

  Ella slipped her hand inside mine as she took one of the bags from me. "Ready?" she asked, concern etched in her delicate features. I nodded, squeezing her hand in mine. She had been my saving grace, my rock at a time when I was sure I would've gone under. But the stresses of the year were nothing compared to what my twin had endured. Nothing. Yet Ella's voice kept on reminding me: Hans had been ill, and despite us being identical, he may have been born with a disposition completely different from mine, that may have made him more aggressive, and view violence differently. It wasn't my fault he had slaughtered my pets - we had both been far too young to have learned it from somewhere - and it wasn't my fault now that he had deteriorated despite therapy. Some day, I was going to believe her, and I wondered if today would be that day.

  I could hear footsteps behind us, and turned to see my father, older, perhaps wiser, coming to bid me farewell. Our relationship was on the mend, slowly but surely, ever since that fateful day. We were more open with each other now, expressed ourselves more, learning from Hans and all the lessons of the past year. I was closer to him than I had ever been before, and that was perhaps the one good thing that came out of it all.

  I glanced at Ella. The two good things. We stepped forward and didn't look back, leaving my father alone with Susan in that empty house. There was no wedding after Hans’ death - it had proved to be too much of a trial for Marcus and Ella's mom's relationship. I looked down at the hand in mine, and wondered if Ella and I were going to be okay. We were going to study in the same college, Ella having secured a full scholarship to study medicine. We even shared some classes. I didn't know what the future held but I knew I needed her by my side. And that was enough, for now.

  THE END

  A Word from the Author

  I hope you enjoyed Hating, Hurting. I wanted a way to explore the beauty of the human mind - an individual’s mind. Even identical twins can have vastly different make-up, and be further molded by nurture.

  If you enjoyed Hating, Hurting, maybe you will enjoy Cruel Bully, too. Check out the sneak preview!

  Cruel Bully

  Chapter 1

  I thought I could catch a break. It had been a long, hard year, and it showed in the way my clothes hung loosely from my body. My mother had no clue why I was losing so much weight, but that was because I wanted her to remain in the dark about everything. She didn't need to know. We were going to leave everything behind, or so I thought. I guess the past was no reason for future bad luck to be warded off.

  But I didn't know this as I stepped into Ravenshaw Falls, a small, scenic town my mom and I decided to start a new life in. It was just the two of us in this world. We weren't beholden to anyone, and it was just the way I liked it. Moving took some convincing but the beautiful Appalachian mountains and the store manager job that promised a much better pay for my mom helped her decide to make the move. I was sold the moment I saw how far it was from the redneck town I grew up in. Away from Sam and his slimy pals. She didn't have to know I was trying to leave my pain behind. My mother wasn't strong enough to know the real reason I came back bruised that god-forsaken night. And I didn't need to add to her guilt for being busy with work all the time. When I showed her the ad for the job, she had looked at me funny, as if trying to figure me out. Most girls my age wouldn't want to leave school so close to graduation, but it wasn't about my social life anymore. I had to look out for my own safety, which was becoming more and more questionable as my eighteenth birthday was drawing near. Once I learnt she applied and had a probationary offer for the job, it took a lot of negotiating to get her not to tell anyone about it. I don't know how I did it, but she listened to me and it was only after the truck was loaded that Sam and Martha knew about us leaving.

  I still remember his hot breath down my neck, inhaling my scent one last time. I shuddered, knowing he would have had his hands on me if he could find a way. Thankfully, we had to leave the very next day, and my mother had been around the entire time, something new for the both of us, and something her new job promised more of.

  I was looking forward to my senior year. A new place, a new me. A place that knew nothing about my past. I was Cara Bradley, the new transfer from Winsley, Alabama. I planned to lay low, ace my classes and graduate so I could go to a college in the city and live the life I had always wanted - independent and anonymous. My mother would hopefully find someone nice to settle down with or at least have a stable income so she could start dating again. Unlike me, she was the kind of person who needed a guy to depend on, and the past five years following my father's death were much harder on her than on me.

  Ravenshaw Falls held promise, and we were both excited and anxious about the move. Perhaps my mom finally saw the low-lifes we were surrounded by. Despite her own upbringing and her narrow-minded parents who had forbidden her marriage to my "outsider" father, my mom had a relatively open mind and didn't expect me to give up the idea of a college education the way most of my friends had. I couldn't imagine being hitched by the time I turned nineteen, or permanently working several jobs for the rest of my life. There was more to life than what Winsley provided, and there was definitely more to my future than what Sam promised me I could have.

  For the past two days, we had loaded our beat-up Chevy with eighteen years' worth of junk that I couldn't persuade my mom to let go of. Bigger pieces of furniture had been sent ahead but I still had sore arms from all the boxes of memorabilia and old clothes my mom was certain we would need. It took a lot of patience on my end not to tell her I was going to throw out the holey sweater I got from grandma Perez when I was seven. In all honesty, what does one need a childhood sweater for anyway? I had no siblings or cousins. I wish I had been able to donate my stuff or have a garage sale before the move but living in the small town I was in, word would spread and I didn't want Sam learning about us leaving.

  The eight-hour long drive to Ravenshaw Falls made me happy. It reduced the chances of them coming for me. Every minute that passed made my humming grow louder, and my mom noticed.

  "You're that excited, huh?" She asked, glancing at me with her sweet smile, her hand on the wheel. Her curly blond hair fell just onto her shoulders, and with her youthful face, she looked like my older sister instead of my mother. She was right. Even the creaky old truck and its faulty air-conditioning couldn't wipe the smile off my face. I had a good feeling about our move. Nothing could compare to the dark pit that was my life of the past five years.

  I pulled my long hair up into a messy bun to keep it off my neck. Unlike my mom's angelic look, I had inherited my fat
her's darker skin and almost jet-black hair. It was only her emerald eyes I got from her, but whereas on her they look innocent and beautiful, they were a stark and strange blue-green on my freckled face. My father had always called me his Angel, and called me by my middle name, Angelica, the one thing I hated having to change when I registered myself in Ravenshaw Academy.

  As we drew to a stop in front of the dated, neat three-bedroom blue house we had bought, my smile grew even wider. The front steps were wide and inviting. The grass could use a little trim, and the front door badly needed a new coat of paint, but it was home to my eyes. Looking around, I could see newer, bigger houses in the neighborhood, but they were generally of a similar style. Across the lawn a tall guy with floppy light brown hair was shooting hoops, and he stopped when he saw us and gave a small wave.

  I hesitated, and then decided it wouldn't hurt to return his gesture with a wave of my own. Unfolding my long legs and stepping out of the truck, I stretched out my sore arms. Shoving my hands into the pockets of my skinny jeans, I walked over to my mom to grab the house keys.

  Opening the front door, I saw that the movers had placed our worn-out kitchen cupboard nicely against the wall, and our ancient box-like TV was on the table in the small living room. I mentally made a note to rearrange the sofas so that they would face the large bay windows where I could see myself poring over a novel.

  I sighed happily. It was the beginning of a fresh new start. I was determined to put the past behind me and make the best of the present. Baking, reading, maybe an occasional trip to the mall or a hike - I fully planned on doing all the normal teenage stuff that I had missed out on.

  Looking through the windows, I could see the guy lift his top to wipe the sweat off his brow. He had a chiseled body, which I was sure was the result of hours of working out.