Stepbrother's Dark Desire

WINTER

Collapsing onto the bed, I let out a deep sigh, trying to convince myself that everything would eventually be okay. I had big plans for this summer—a few weeks of fun before diving into my second year of college. My friends and I were exploring last-minute holiday deals, and we even had tickets to a music festival. But then, in his usual fashion, my dad swooped in and ruined everything.

I thought that agreeing to study his chosen field would finally get him off my back. But clearly, that wasn’t enough. He insisted I move here to his city, for reasons that still escape me.

Mom, Jude, and I didn’t have much, but we had each other, and that was always enough. Then tragedy struck. Jude's passing last year shattered everything. It tore apart the little world we had built together, leaving Mom and me in pieces. In that moment of loss, I knew I had to stay close to her. She was left with just me, and I couldn’t stand the idea of leaving her alone when she needed me the most. I needed to be there for her, to hold her up, and to keep us both together through the darkness.

But Dad stepped in, suddenly deciding he had a say in my future. He was adamant that I pursue accountancy and finance, having meticulously researched it and convinced it was the perfect path for me to eventually join the firm.

He practically forced me to transfer colleges in my second year, making me leave everything behind to live with him.

............

I lose track of time lying on my bed, wrestling with the reality of moving into Dad’s house, leaving Mom behind to live with his new wife and her son, Zion.

Just thinking about Zion brings a bittersweet smile to my face. We used to be best friends, inseparable even. But then something changed. I’m not sure what, but we drifted apart. Over the years, whenever I visited Dad after he married Jenny, Zion was never around—like he was purposely avoiding me.

Thoughts whirl in my head, questioning if moving across the country to live with Dad was the right choice. Yet, here I am, in his home.

Eventually, hunger stirs me from my thoughts. I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the half-unpacked boxes scattered around the room, letting out a heavy sigh. Maybe if I leave everything packed, I can hold off truly settling in. But it’s a fleeting thought. This is my life now, whether I like it or not.

Disappointment washes over me as I navigate through the quiet house. I didn't expect a grand welcome, but some company would have been comforting. A helping hand to lug my belongings upstairs would have been even better.

Deep down, I know this place will never truly feel like home to me.

This place is merely a house—a pristine showcase devoid of the warmth that comes with everyday life. I tiptoe around, afraid to disturb its perfect facade. Home, to me, is a different concept altogether—it's where life unfolds in all its messy, loving glory.

My dad has always been consumed by his ambitions. After he married Jenny, it felt like he moved on without a second thought, as if Mom, Jude, and I were just part of his past. He’d call on Christmas or birthdays, but that was the extent of it. So, I can’t figure out why he’s suddenly taken such a keen interest in me now.

As for Jenny, my stepmother, she's kind and dutiful, saying and doing all the right things. She's a wonderful mother figure, yet beneath her composed exterior, I sense a lingering sorrow in her eyes.

“There you are,” my father says, his voice catching me off guard. He glances me up and down with a forced smile. “Is it too much to ask for you to wear a dress?”

I’m taken aback. What’s wrong with jeans and a T-shirt? I’ve just arrived a few hours ago, and after a long trip, comfort is key. Biting my tongue, I brush off his comment about my clothes and steer the conversation. “Dad, I didn’t realize you were home. I thought you’d be at work.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Why wouldn’t I be here? This is my home, after all.” As he speaks, his gaze drifts around the room, as if searching for something. His eyes land on a file, and he picks it up with a sigh. He came home from work to get the file, not to welcome me.

“Oh, and here I thought you came home to see me,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Stop being difficult and just do what I’ve asked. I need at least one of my children to live up to my expectations. Your brother has already let me down—drugs, then suicide. Don’t follow in his footsteps. I can only handle one family screw-up at a time.”

His words strike a nerve. I glare at him, teeth clenched. How dare he! “Jude wasn’t a screw-up,” I snap through gritted teeth. You’re the one who’s a screw-up, I think bitterly.

He takes a menacing step closer, and I force myself to remain steady. He is, after all, my father. I shouldn’t be afraid, but I know better. He’s a selfish man, consumed with his own needs. If I get in his way, he’ll crush me without a second thought.

“Your brother ruined my reputation. He was more than a disappointment. If you don’t fall in line, I won’t have any reason to continue supporting your mother. You’re living under my roof to stay out of trouble and not embarrass me like he did. You will pursue the degree I chose for you and uphold the image I need. I can’t have my children being failures.”

Tears well up in my eyes, threatening to fall.

“He was your son,” I choke out. How can he be so cold towards his child? His eyes glint with a harsh, unforgiving light. There’s no remorse, no compassion. It’s clear now that my father is nothing but a heartless monster.

“He’s dead,” he says coldly. “And you’ll be nothing if you don’t follow my orders. Do as you’re told, study hard and get good grades, Winter.”

With that, he turns and storms away.

I exhale heavily, closing my eyes tightly to hold back the tears.

A knot tightens in my stomach, and it feels like my whole body is sinking under the weight of this new reality. I was at my dream college, surrounded by great friends, and everything was perfect.

Now, here I am, in a new house, facing a complete restart. Despite my efforts to find some silver lining, I’m struggling. With a sigh, I shove my hands into my pockets and head toward the kitchen, hoping I can find it in this huge place.

........

The fridge is packed to the brim.

I assemble a salad using some untouched fruits and vegetables, hoping it might lift my spirits, but being here still leaves me feeling hollow.

As I search through the cupboards, a smile creeps onto my face when I discover a hidden stash of indulgent treats tucked away at the back.

Collecting my thoughts, I gather my hair into a casual bun and focus on preparing something comforting.

My stomach growls with anticipation as I drizzle melted chocolate over crushed biscuits and marshmallows, a treat I managed to resist until now.

As I wait for the kettle to boil, a sudden chill grips me, sending a shiver down my spine. It's probably just the sheer size of this house that unnerves me. I've seen enough horror movies to know there are countless hiding spots in a place this large.

I freeze momentarily, straining to listen, but when all remains quiet, I resume my task. That is until a low, menacing voice pierces the silence.

"Holy fucking shit, stepdad brings his little bitch daughter into the mix, really knows how to mess up my life,” he snarls, his words thick with anger. His tone sends a chill down my spine and a lump forms in my throat.

Despite his harsh words, I’m overwhelmed with relief at seeing him after so long. I wrap my arms around him instinctively, inhaling his familiar woodsy scent. For a fleeting moment, everything feels right, as though the years apart had vanished.

But Zion pulls away abruptly, his face a storm of shock and anger. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demands, his eyes scanning me with a mix of disbelief and irritation. His gaze rests on my figure, clearly surprised.

"I—um—transferred," I stammer, struggling to explain as he pushes me back.

“You’re not welcome here, and don’t ever fucking hug me again.”

What?