The summer heat was heavy, thick and still in the old house. My stepdad, Arthur, was usually gone. He was an architect, always flying off to new places for big buildings. But this summer, he was home. All the time. It was strange. But I liked it. He was handsome, with eyes that saw everything and a quiet way that made me feel safe. I was sixteen. My body felt new. It had curves now, and big breasts that felt heavy. I didn't know what to do with them.
He worked in his study most days. I tried to draw in the living room. Our talks used to be short. Now, he asked about my day. He listened. Really listened. It was different.
Last night, the night before the storm, I was bored. I went to his study. He was on his computer. He looked at me.
"Bored, Eliza?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said.
He nodded
