“Uh huh,” he said. His voice almost sounded teasing. Shit! Did he know? I scanned Tom’s face for any sign that he had heard my outrageous moaning half an hour ago. He looked bemused; one of his sly smiles was starting to pull at the corner of his mouth. I suddenly wanted to die. He quickly changed the subject.

“I met a girl today.” Shit again! This day was going from bad to worse.

“Uh huh,” I said, trying not to sound disappointed. “What’s she like?”

“I don’t know. She’s totally crazy. And she’s possibly the most sexual person I’ve ever met. You probably wouldn’t get along with her: she’s just so fucking bad, worse than I am. I think I really like her though. And she loves music more than anything, just like I do."

I swallowed hard. It was taking every iota of energy in my body to keep myself from crying. I was devastated, and I couldn’t help it.

He continued, “I don't know, Sasha.  Something inside me feels like she could heal me, or like we could heal each other. I finally feel hopeful. I’ve never felt like this before.”

I couldn’t take any more. I tore away from the couch and ran for my room, before Tom could see the hot, bitter tears coursing down my face. I locked myself in my room and sat down with my back to the door. I tried to stop myself from crying, but as soon as I had caught my breath another spasm of grief would shake me, and I would start to sob again.

All the things that were supposed to bring Tom and I even closer--music, sex, the loss we had both survived--didn’t matter, because Tom had found all those things in someone else. And she sounded better than me, like she was interesting and experienced, someone that Tom could really talk to, could really relate to.

But what about me? What about my feelings? Was I going to be left alone in this cold, harsh world, to carry my burdens and stupid desire for Tom by myself? I needed love too, more than I wanted to admit.

I wiped my face, sniffled and stood up. I looked at my face in the vanity mirror next to my bed. I was such an idiot, fantasizing about my stepbrother for so long. Why couldn’t I be like all the normal girls? I walked to my bathroom and washed my face. I didn’t want to see my pathetic reflection in the mirror anymore and avoided it. I knew I looked like a mess. It was stupid to think to that Tom could ever like me.

I heard him through the door. He sounded concerned.

“Sasha, are you in there? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, trying to fight the shaky tremor in my voice. I didn’t want my sadness to come spilling out all over again.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I just felt really sick all of a sudden.”

“Can I do anything? I can run to the drug store if you want me to. Or make you tea?” There he was, the baddest boy in school, practically a criminal, offering to make me tea, because he was trying to think of something, anything to make his stepsister feel better.

“That’s okay,” I said. I opened the door and peeked out. Tom was standing there, looking concerned. I closed the door.

-------------------------------------------------------

The next day at school was unbearable. I couldn’t concentrate. Midway through the lecture I simply got up and walked out. Everyone stared at me, including the instructor. Fuck them, I thought. I walked aimlessly until I was at the river. I usually liked to watch it flowing, but now I could see it the way it really was: turgid and ugly, full of trash and dead fish. It was disgusting: dirtier than a gas station bathroom. What was the point of my stupid class anyway? It didn’t matter how hard I studied or how many tests I aced, I never got anything I wanted. I was alone, and nobody loved me.

Dinner passed with heavy silence. My dad was tired from work, and didn’t say much. Tom was in a brooding sort of mood again; he smoldered over his steak and peas with a focused intensity that I couldn’t bear to watch any more. I listlessly poked at my food for about five minutes before I gave up on dinner. I shoved my food away and walked out. My dad looked up, alarmed.

“Sasha, honey...” I didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence. I walked upstairs to my room and closed the door. I turned off the lights and lay in bed, waiting for Death to come and take me.

A few minutes later, I heard a gentle knock on my door. Go away, I thought. Just leave me alone.

“Sasha?” It was Tom. I stared at the ceiling. “Can I come in?”

I paused, willing him away from the door. I just wanted to be alone. I could see his shadow behind the crack of light under the door. It stayed there, unmoving. I could feel his presence there, and his worry. I felt bad that I was making him so anxious, but I almost wanted him to feel a little pain, after the way he devastated me.

“Did Dad send you up here to check on me?”

“Kind of. Can I come in?”

“Okay.”

Tom walked in, closed the door, and sat down on the bed next to where I was laying. He squeezed my knee through the covers. We sat together in the darkness for a moment before he asked me what was wrong.

“I don’t know. Everyone keeps telling me how much fun I’ll have in college, but I know it’s going to be just like high school. Everyone except Katy and Anna thinks I am too stuck up to hang out with them. Not that anyone would want to anyway.”

“You are beautiful. And you’re not stuck-up. That’s stupid.”

“I just want things to be different.”

“They will be. It’s not like the rest of life is a retarded popularity contest, the way high school is.” There was another silence. He squeezed my leg again, but this time it felt different, like he was holding on to me before I slipped away. “I’m going to miss you when you go.”

Then my stepbrother did one of those wild, reckless things that thrilled me so much. He leaned over and kissed me on the mouth. I was shocked and started to pull away. Then I kissed him back, hard.

We furiously pressed our mouths, and then our bodies together. I hadn’t kissed a boy since I was a sophomore, and I had almost forgotten how good it felt. I plunged my tongue into his mouth, not wanting to hold back. Our tongues danced together, pressing against each other in every way possible. I loved the way our mouths moved in unison, never leaving each other. Making out with him just felt so right. Our pace became faster, more and more driven. There was something more than simple affection in the tremor of his lips and the furious pressure of his tongue. Pure, raging, torrential, white-hot lust.

His lips departed from mine with a wrenching suddenness. Our hard foreheads pressed together and I craned towards him, wanting his mouth again. I didn’t get a warning before he stood up and grabbed the waist of my sweatpants. He violently pulled them off, along with my panties. I lay there in the bed, in the dim moonlight that made it through the curtains, my little pussy bare and ready for him. We made out again, slowly and deliciously, and then I felt the head of his cock pressing against my little flower. I gasped and held him tightly, an earthquake of ecstasy shuddering through my body. He groaned with pleasure and pressed into me, his plundering cock halted by my tightness and the thin little barrier of my innocence.

“Oh shit, sis, you’re so tight!”

I loved the nasty way he called me ‘sis’ as he tried to fuck me. I grabbed his ass and tried to pull him into me. We strained together, then he roared like a savage as he forcefully burst his thick, rock-hard shaft through my hymen and into my virgin, velvety sheath.

I howled with ecstasy, my thin little body impaled on his massive cock. My walls strained and spasmed, trying to contain his monster girth. Pleasure or pain? I couldn’t tell the difference. He started to pull out, and the movement sent shudder after shudder of unspeakable sensation sweeping through me. I was being drowned in a violent surf of bliss and agony. It was the ultimate feeling. None of my fantasies had prepared me for this. They all seemed so pale now, so dim and forgotten, useless ghosts which could hold no candle against this raging apocalypse of passion that had exploded between us, and was carrying my soul, like a tattered leaf in a hurricane, to Nirvana.