My brother is still all I have.
But yet, he’s not really here anymore.
For weeks, I have searched, sometimes painfully so, for that glint I used to see in his eyes. The one that told me he was still in there somewhere. But now, it’s gone. It’s like his body is physically here, but his mind is somewhere else completely. He’s changed a lot. Hell, who wouldn’t after seven years of hardly seeing each other? He missed me growing from a spotty teenager into a woman. He missed all those special moments, like when I went on my first date, left home, got my first job… my first apartment. When he first left, we would be in touch as often as he could, but over the years, he grew distant. So distant that at one stage, I thought he was missing in action, presumed dead. I had no idea about the torture he was going through in his mind. No idea of the torment.
Not until he left the army and came back home to live with me. At first, he slept on my sofa, but after a couple of nights of hearing his torturous cries during the night, I suggested he sleep in bed with me. There would be no harm in that. He’s my brother, after all. We were family, and I would do anything for him.
Anything.
Which leads me to the here and now. For the past few weeks, we have been sleeping side by side together all night. The nightmares have subsided quite substantially, which is great news. What’s been happening over the last couple of weeks, though, not so much.
Nobody knows what they do in their sleep. They’re completely unaware of their actions—if any—during the night. When Chris started putting his arm over me during the early stages of sleep, snuggling his head into the crook of my neck, my initial reaction was to think how sweet it was, how close we are. But after a time, his hand would innocently swipe down my arm, leg, or even breast, and that’s when the lines between us being brother and sister started to blur. My belly would flutter with excitement. A need to be satiated would crawl up my spine like a poisonous spider ready to sink its teeth into my flesh. During the day, I would watch him before he was about to leave for the gym, noting how taut and strong his muscles looked. He would flex an arm, and my breath would catch, heat pricking my skin and scorching my insides. Once gone, I would play with myself until orgasming, and then, I would have this overwhelming urge to vomit afterwards because I knew I was sick. My mind would try and scramble something from nothing. I would make excuses, telling myself things like he doesn’t look like my brother anymore. In fact, he’s not my brother anymore. My brother’s dead.
None of this taking away from the actual fact that he is my brother.
Last week, I lost my job as a check-out girl at the local supermarket because my boss was an idiot who would perv on all the girls who worked there—including me. When Chris found out what I went through because of him, he went down to the store and gave my boss a good hiding. It cost me my job, and my boss threatened to go to the police until a couple of girls I was friendly with stuck up for my brother and threatened to tell the police exactly why he had been beaten in the first place. The girls cooed over my Chris, wanting me to give him their phone numbers.
I hadn’t liked that.
I hadn’t liked it at all. I took their numbers, and the moment I was out of the store, I threw them in the bin. Chris was mine and only mine. A selfish thought I had felt sick over later.
Which again leads me to the here and now. The now where I wake up—as usual—before Chris does, and I lie in wait to see what he’ll do next. More often than not, he will moan, roll over, and seek me out, his arm sliding across my stomach, causing a wave of excitement to heat through me. I know afterwards, when I calm, that I will realise how wrong this all is, but in that moment—in this moment—all I care about is the chase. Chasing that feeling—however big or small—that will keep me going for the rest of the day. Knowing that with each day, the need to go further increases. Yesterday morning, I had managed to somehow pull his hand up to my breast and lay it there, my body heating, my breaths uneven as I waited for him to squeeze it—do something. After a few seconds, he did, and when that happened, I almost orgasmed right then and there. He squeezed once and then twice, moaning in his sleep as my eyes rolled to the back of my head. But then his body would move, awakening him from his slumber. His hand would eventually slide away, and then, so too would his body as he headed for the bathroom. I would stay still the whole time, frightened to move… to let him know I was awake and felt everything.
Wanted everything.
This morning is no exception. Not having to get up for work every day has helped my obsession grow. This is now my new job. I wake, wait for the moment Chris moves towards me, then the pattern repeats itself. Before I used to wear a bra and knickers at the very least, but this morning I’m butt naked.
My insides burn to new levels as I turn, facing away from Chris, while scooting my body a little closer to his. He reacts—as per normal—manoeuvring himself in order to place his arm around me. I expect his hand to slide to my waist, but this time, he places his hand straight onto my breast.
My breath hitches in response. My skins burns, and my stomach somersaults. For some, this would seem like such a small touch, but to me it feels as though my body is about to explode.
Unmoving now, I scoot my bum out farther, trying to seek the warmth of his body. He reacts by curving his around mine, his hardness digging into my bum, sending more scurries through my stomach. He flexes his hips, and I moan, unable to hide my feelings anymore. My body heats, my insides burn, my breathing uneven. If Chris is awake, there is no way he’ll mistake my wanton desire.
His hips thrust again, and with it, a soft moan escapes his breath. My hand slides over his, forcing it to squeeze my breast. My heart accelerates to new heights, my body about to detonate. His heavy breaths—matching my own—hit the back of my neck, causing a shiver to run through me.
“Bri, no,” he whispers, but the hesitation in his voice says otherwise. He’s awake. He wants this. He wants this just as much as I do.
I squeeze his hand once more on my breasts, again thrusting my bottom back to meet his hardness. “Yes,” I whisper back, pleading with him to make this all better. Begging him to take away the pain inside me that’s about to boil over.
“Bri, no” he says again, his words making my need for him even greater.
With my hand still over his, I push it down towards my pussy. I wonder if I will be met with resistance, but although hesitant, he lets me lead him. I make him cup my mound then make him slide his fingers through my folds, soaking them with my obvious wetness.
“Fuck, Bri. You’re fucking soaked.”
“I want you,” I whisper, before turning my head around to look at him. At first, his eyes express indecision, but when he locks on my hooded expression, he swallows, pulling me over so that I’m on my back. He bends down, kissing me. At first lightly, almost as if he’s unsure of himself. His kisses are soft, gentle, setting off fireworks that explode throughout my body. I’m so fucking turned on that I go one step further, pushing his boxers down as he’s kissing me. In an instant, he’s on top of me, and when he thrusts his cock inside me, our cries match one another. I’m so wet that he easily enters me to the hilt, his cock kissing my womb. He pulls out slightly but then quickly pushes forward again. He kisses me again, this time more hungrily, and I meet every dance of his tongue with mine, every thrust of his hips as they grind into me.
Our breaths ragged, he grabs my arms, placing them above my head. He has me trapped at the wrists as he uses them as leverage to thrust his hips forward.
“What the fuck are you doing to me, Bri? I can’t fucking stop.”
His words coupled with his movements are my undoing. “Fuck,” I breathe out, knowing an orgasm like no other is about to rip me apart. “I’m going to come! I’m going to come!”
His hips move faster, like he’s forcing the orgasm out of me. And my body embraces it.
“You’re going to have to come soon. I can’t hold on much longer.”
And with those wo
rds, I’m gone. My orgasm robbing me of all my senses. Colours dance before my eyes, my whole body tingles, jerking with the violence of my climax.
“Fuck, Bri, you feel so fucking tight. I’m going to come…”
The moment those words leave his lips, he violently thrusts three more times before stilling inside of me. We lay still, our breaths uneven as we calm from our orgasms. I feel so high. I feel like I’m floating on the softest cloud known to man.
For a while longer, we stay like that. Him still snug inside me, his head resting at the crook of my neck, his warm breath tickling me there. For those few precious seconds, everything seems so natural, so normal, and so freeing. My life doesn’t seem so complicated or fucked up. I’m just me, floating on this fantastic cloud.
But then Chris slides out of me. I glance up, but he’s not even looking at me. His face deliberately turned, he crawls off the bed and walks towards the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
I know in that moment exactly which feelings are washing over him, because all at one, they come crashing down on me too.
Disgust.
Regret.
Remorse.
Disbelief.
But most of all… shame.
What have I done?
Four months later
I remember that fateful day as if it were yesterday.
Chris came out of the bathroom freshly washed and dressed, and we spoke like nothing had happened, both of us burying our heads in the sand. Maybe if we pretended it didn’t happen, then it didn’t.
But it did.
And on that night and the following nights, we went to bed knowing we would wake up and the cycle would repeat itself. We were hooked, unable to stay away from one another once we had a taste. Unable to say no when the opportunity arose. In fact, it repeated itself so much that in the end it became just as common as shopping. Well, for a while anyway. We were in that honeymoon period where once you had sex with someone for the first time, you couldn’t stop. Only we were worse. I don’t know if it was the forbidden element to our relationship, but everything was heightened. When he touched me, my body would immediately respond. When he kissed me, the urge to make him fuck me turned my insides out. Never in my life had I ever felt this way. It was like a drug. The moment I had the tiniest of tastes, my body craved more… more. So much more. Every part of me knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t help myself.
What had I become?
That had all lasted about four months before I began to realise that we were getting in way too deep and that I was beginning to lose myself. What we were doing was wrong. So fucking wrong, and I knew it. Every time we had sex, I knew it. That’s why I was always disgusted with myself after my orgasms faded. It wasn’t the act itself, it was knowing who I was doing it with.
Four months have passed since I arrived at Heathrow airport, suitcases and bags in tow with absolutely no idea where I was going. The moment I arrived, I rushed to the restrooms, got myself inside a cubicle, and quickly unzipped the holdall bag to check its contents. Inside I found a fake passport for both Chris and I, two credit cards, and a stash of cash that I certainly wasn’t going to count right there and then.
I knew I couldn’t take the contents of the holdall on the plane with me, and I had accounted for that. With my suitcase only half-filled, I took out only the passport and credit card in my new, fake name of Amy Jones, and stuffed the rest into my suitcase which I padlocked before venturing out to see where the next planes were flying. I smiled when I saw a flight to Singapore was leaving in just over an hour. It was almost like fate was playing a hand in my adventure. I purchased a business class ticket using my brand-new credit card, boarded the plane, and twenty-two hours later, I landed in Bali, where I have been ever since.
It’s late afternoon, and I have just finished my part-time shift at the local children’s hospital. The moment I settled in here, I felt the need to give something back after all the crimes I committed to get here. So in the end, I offered to volunteer at the nearest hospital. They snapped me right up, and once they realised I had actual skills, they offered me a part-time job, which thankfully just about pays my rent and bills. My job also covers health insurance, which I recently discovered I desperately need.
Exhausted after being on my feet for four hours straight, I get changed into my bikini and sexy floral kimono, sitting outside my rented beach hut, smiling as I stretch my feet out. When I first arrived, I had gone to the nearest hotel and slept ten hours straight before getting up and searching for a more permanent place to stay. I looked everywhere, eventually finding a row of huts strewn across the beach overlooking the beautiful stretch of Bali sea, a body of water so crystal clear that you can see the abundance of sea life swimming in its warm waters. It was one of those moments when I knew this was the place I needed to be. So I put a deposit down on the next available hut, thankful that I only had to wait another two weeks before it was ready, and I have been living in it since. It’s small but cozy with only one bedroom/living area, the tiniest of kitchens, and a small bathroom. I knew I wouldn’t be able to live here forever, but I’ll need to move sooner than expected now that something unexpected has cropped up. But for now, I am basking in its glory, taking in the most beautiful sea I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing.
Being here is just as I had pictured it in my head, and I smile every time I dip my toes in the sand and watch as the grains fall through my toes. I’m content that I finally did this, but in no way does that mean I am truly happy. I miss Charlie. I miss him more than I ever felt I could possibly miss a person. I have been working my way towards contacting him, but for now, I’m still too chicken shit to act.
I take a sip of my ice-cold water and slink down in my low beach chair, doing as I always do as I thread my toes through the cold sand. I lie back, relaxing in the warm sun, allowing myself a few minutes to completely unwind, completely free myself of my every day stressors.
I close my eyes for a few minutes, but when a shadow darkens my eyelids, I open them up to find it isn’t a cloud that’s overshadowing the sun.
It’s Charlie.
He stands like an apparition, a warm glow highlighting the contours of his sculptured body. Wearing a pair of beige shorts with a brown belt, his black with white dotted shirt is tucked neatly inside, accentuating every curve of his body. I can’t see those beautiful caramel eyes as they are hidden by a pair of black Ray Bans, but I don’t need to see his eyes to know that he’s pissed. He is staring down at me, his mouth formed into a hard line. My heart accelerates both with excitement and need, but also with anxiety and trepidation.
Despite the fear prickling my skin, I force myself to remain as calm as I can, finally smiling up to him. “Charlie… Hi.”
He snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. “It’s been over four months, Bri, and all you can offer is ’Charlie… Hi?’ Don’t you think I deserve a bit more than that?”
My eyes dart side to side, trying to think of something to say. “How are you?” I tease, knowing this will just piss him off even more, but I’m surprised when all he does is let out a deep breath.
I push myself off the chair, trying to do it in the most ladylike fashion, but ultimately no one can look graceful getting up out of these frickin beach chairs. Once I’m on the same level as him, I say, “Have you come to arrest me?” I’m teasing him, but I'm also fully aware that I'm poking the bear.
He flits his gaze on me, his jaw ticcing. “No, but I fucking should. Why the hell did you run away, Bri? You could have stayed, faced the music, and soon they would have wrapped up this whole case, and have completely forgotten about you. But, no. You had to flee the country using God knows what criminal means to do so, causing my superiors to think you may have been the secret mastermind behind Chris’s activities all this time.”
Panic burns my skin, causing my heart to slam against my ribcage. “They don’t know I’m here, do they?”
Charlie shakes his head. “No, they don’t know y
ou’re here.”
With my heart calming somewhat, I say, “But you do. You found me.”
Charlie scoffs. “I remember being told a dream from this girl about being on a beach in Bali, sinking her toes into the sand. It didn’t take much to find you once I got here. You’re a lot paler than the locals, probably the only solitude, blonde girl with blue eyes for miles, so yeah, it didn’t take much digging.”
I try and process as much as I can, but the only words screaming in my head right now are “Charlie’s here. Charlie’s fucking here!” I’m so elated, but so damn fucking anxious at the same time, I don’t know which way is up. Him being here. What does it all mean?
“Do you want a drink? I can’t offer you alcohol, but I do have a local, tropical fruit punch.”
Charlie sniggers, probably unable to believe his ears at my blasé attitude. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” He throws his hands out before they slap down by his sides.
I take that as my cue to walk into the hut, Charlie’s eyes burning into the back of my head as I venture in with him following just inches behind. I head to the fridge, pouring him his drink and setting it down on the counter between us. When I turn, Charlie removes his sunglasses, allowing me to see those eyes I fell in love with all those months ago.
Tainted Love Page 27
