Stepbrother Dearest(61)

My mind and body were now in the midst of a war because while my heart needed a long rest before continuing on, my brain had an urgent need to turn the page. Once I’d started reading, the pages wouldn’t stop turning all night long.

I’d made it through the first half of the book by dawn. Reading about the verbal abuse Elec suffered at the hands of Randy was extremely painful. As a boy, Elec would hide in his room and get lost in books to escape reality. Randy would sometimes punish him for no reason and take the books away. One of those times, Elec started jotting a story down on paper and discovered that writing was an even more satisfying escape. He could control the destinies of his characters, whereas he had no control over the life he was forced to live in Randy’s home.

As a child, he never knew the real reason behind Randy’s hatred. Pilar’s protection of Randy was unacceptable, and I wanted to strangle her through the pages. The only good thing she ever did was go against Randy’s wishes in buying Elec a dog. Lucky became Elec’s solace and best friend.

Elec also recounted the time when he found out about Randy’s infidelity. He hacked into his father’s computer and discovered the online affair with my mother. Elec felt guilty because he was the one who broke the news to Pilar. Randy moved out soon after.

Pilar’s subsequent breakdown opened up a whole new set of challenges. She became dependent on Elec in the same way she’d always relied on Randy. That, coupled with Elec discovering the truth about Patrick, and then the death of Lucky caused a downward spiral.

He started to smoke and drink to cope with the stress, developed an addiction to tattoos as a form of self-expression and became sexually promiscuous. He’d lost his virginity at 15 to a female tattoo artist after he’d convinced her he was 18.

It was really hard for me to get through certain parts of the book, but his brutal honesty was admirable.

I read straight through until arriving at the one point where I absolutely had to stop before continuing.

It was the chapter about me.





***



Chapter 15: Greta



Vengeance.

That was the only thing that was going to get me through having to spend the better part of the next year living with Randy and his new family while Mami “went away.”

The only consolation was going to be the satisfaction that would come from making their lives miserable.

He was going to pay for putting my mother in the looney bin and for leaving me to pick up the pieces.

I’d already decided that I hated her—the daughter. I’d never met her, but I imagined the worst based on her name alone, which ironically rhymed with vendetta.

Greta.

I thought it was an ugly name.

I was betting she had a face to match.

The second I stepped off that plane, the smog and funky smell of Boston were a big giant “fuck you.” I’d heard that song before about the dirty water here, and that didn’t surprise me after taking one look around.

When we first pulled up to the house, I refused to get out of Randy’s car, but it was cold, and I was freezing my ball sac off, so I finally gave in and dragged my feet inside.

My stepsister stood in the living room waiting for me with a huge smile on her face. My eyes immediately landed on her neck.

Fuck. Me.

Remember that bet about the face matching the name? Well, apparently, I’d lost that bet to my dick. Greta wasn’t ugly…at all.

This development was a minor hiccup in my plan, and I was determined not to let it slow me down.

I reminded myself to keep a serious face.

Her long strawberry-blond hair was tied up into a ponytail that swung back and forth as she moved toward me.

“I’m Greta. Nice to meet you,” she said

She smelled good enough to eat.

I corrected the thought in my head: good enough to eat and SPIT HER OUT. Don’t lose focus.

Her hand was still suspended in the air as she waited for me to take it. I didn’t even want to touch her. That would further throw me off track. I eventually took her hand, squeezing it too tightly. I wasn’t expecting it to be so goddamn soft and delicate like a bird’s foot or some shit. It trembled a little. I was making her nervous. Good. This was a good start.

“You look different…than I pictured,” she said.

What was that supposed to mean?

“And you look pretty…plain,” I retorted.

You should’ve seen her face. She thought I was being nice for a split second. I nipped that in the bud when I added the word “plain.” Then, her pretty smile dipped down into a frown. That should’ve made me happy, but I didn’t like it at all.

In reality, she was anything but plain. Her body was exactly my type: petite with small curves. Her perfectly round little ass stretched through a pair of gray yoga pants. It was no surprise that she did yoga with a tight body like that.