My mornings started with me setting up breakfast, which was the highlight of my day, but it wasn't anymore since my mother passed. Waking up in the morning to the smell of food and the warmth of the surroundings made my day. It was a moment where I and my mother shared memories and spoke about things like cooking recipes, the latest gist on the internet, my dad's hairline, and how they met in school and fell in love at first sight. As she said, "He couldn't resist my charm," and we would laugh our hearts out. It was so beautiful, but everything ended within a twinkle of an eye. Everything was snatched away from me.
Mom was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and needed treatment, but she refused it, saying she didn't want to spend her last days in the hospital and wearing wigs from all her hair falling off. "I don't want to look like an egg in my last days," she said, and I laughed with tears in my eyes. She was a lovely and funny woman. My dad and I grieved for months, but we thought we were going to be alright because we had each other, and he promised not to love another woman till he died. I believed him until one morning.
There was a knock on my door, and my dad came in, saying we needed to have an important conversation. He sat on my bed before the words came out and hit me like a blow to the face.
"I'm getting married in two weeks," he said casually.
"What? I don't understand," I said with utter confusion. "What do you mean you're getting married in two weeks? What about mom? It's not up to a year since she died and you're getting married?"
"Emily, I... let's not make this difficult for ourselves, okay? She's a nice woman, and you'll love her just like you loved your mom."
"No one could ever be like my mom," I said as hot tears streamed down my cheeks. "You promised, Dad. You said it'll be just the two of us forever. Why are you doing this to me?" I cried, not being able to control myself anymore.
"I'm sorry, Emily, but I have to move on. That's what your mom would want." I shook my head in disagreement as he spoke. "She has a son around your age. I'm sure you guys will become the best of friends, Emily," he said as he walked out of my room, shutting the door without looking back.
I cried my eyes out for days, hoping it would make a difference, hoping maybe my dad would come back to his senses. But that didn't stop the inevitable. He got married, and they moved in with us. Then my misery began.
"Ugh, Emily. What's taking you so long?" my stepmom, Patricia, screamed at me, irritation and disgust laced in her voice. She hated me for looking exactly like my mom, and I didn't know why.
"You stupid girl, so incompetent, just like your father. How hard can it be to wake up and set up breakfast before your brother gets up?" she spat.
"I'm sorry, I'll be done soon," I said calmly. This was my morning routine now, a little bit of breakfast and a side dish of insults.
Thirty minutes later, we were all seated at the table eating breakfast before my dad and stepmom left for work. Jake and I were on summer break, as we attended the same school, but he was my senior. I summoned up the courage to talk to my dad because I only saw him in the morning for breakfast due to the nature of his job.
"Dad, can I go to the library today?" I asked with pleading eyes. I didn't want to be left alone with Jake for some personal reasons I couldn't tell my dad.
"Of course you can, sweetie. Just make sure you're back on time," he said. I beamed with happiness until I heard a distasteful grunt from Patricia.
"Really? So who's going to take care of Jake?" she said annoyingly.
"I'm sure he can take care of himself, Pat. He's old enough," my dad said before placing a piece of scrambled eggs into his mouth.
"Is that how much you hate your son, Henry? You don't even care about him." There she goes again with the same old story and emotional blackmail to make my dad feel guilty so she can have her way. Jake was literally older than me, and she wanted me to take care of him. How pathetic.
"You know that's a lie, Pat. I love Jake as my own. We've been over this countless times. Alright, fine. Emily, you'll go tomorrow instead."
"But, Dad—" I tried to protest.
"Shut it and listen to your dad," Patricia snapped.
Jake, on the other hand, was silent at the other corner of the table, grinning from ear to ear. He disgusted me. Every single thing he did and the way he looked at me made me want to puke, and he didn't care about the fact that I was his stepsister. He was always lingering at the bathroom door when I was in, by my room door, and in the kitchen, watching my every move. It gave me the creeps. I tried as much as possible to avoid and ignore him, but it wasn't possible because of this small house with no space.
My plan was to go up to my room and stay there until my parents, or at least my dad, came back. Immediately they stepped out, I packed the dishes to the sink, washed them, and set them aside. Then I ran upstairs. My plan was perfect until I saw Jake standing in front of my door.
"Excuse me, you're in my way," I said politely.
"What are you going to do about it?" he said, staring down at me.
"Please, I don't want any trouble. I just want to get to my room."
He raised his hand to my face, brushing against my cheek before I moved away. Irritation grew on his face as he said, "Why do you run from me all the time? We're family, and you're supposed to love me."
I looked at him to see if he was joking, and I laughed so hard because it was funny to me. Then I said, "Of course I love you. You're my brother." Maybe that would get him out of my way, and it did.
Whew. Mission accomplished.
I opened my door and turned to shut it when something stopped it. I looked down. It was his foot. I stared at him, questioning what he was doing, and he said, "Let me show you how much I love you too." He pushed the door and came in forcefully.
"Jake, what are you doing?" I said as I stepped back, looking for something to defend myself. He noticed and ran towards me, grabbing me and throwing me onto the bed.
My heart beat rapidly inside me as fear overcame my body. No, this isn't happening, I said to myself. I tried to run for the door, but he dragged my feet, pulling me back onto the bed and hovering over me.
"You're so beautiful," he said as he started kissing me.
I pushed him relentlessly, but it made no difference. He was way bigger and stronger than me. I begged and cried, reminding him I was his sister, but he didn't listen. He only went further. His hands roamed over my body, touching every part of me.
He tore my shirt and placed his lips on my breast, and I cried out. I struggled and struggled for what felt like an hour until I passed out.
When I woke up, he was gone, leaving me in a pool of my own blood, red marks all over my body. I cried heavily and called out for my mom, but she wasn't there to save me.
I lost myself that day.
And I lost my virginity to my stepbrother, with nothing I could do about it.