Their Obsession, My Karma.

Nyx: I am presently in my room, yelling and throwing things around... don't ask me why I needed to thrash something before I thrash my mother. Sometimes I doubt that b***h was my mother.. just six months of brooding my father's death she f****d many d***s she could get her freaking hands on.. And now as if she hadn't made my reputation crumble at school she married him. HIM!!! I learned the truth on a Tuesday, the kind of ordinary day that pretends nothing bad can happen. My mother stood in the living room with her hands folded like she was praying, her smile too careful, her eyes too bright. The sunlight hit the framed wedding photo behind her—one I hadn’t seen before—and that was when my stomach dropped. She was married. Not just married. Married to him. To the father of the twin boys who had made my life miserable for three straight years. Kael and Damon. My bullies. The ones who made me dreaded going to school every f*****g day. “Say something,” my mother said softly, like she was afraid a loud voice might shatter me. I did say something. I laughed. Sharp. Humourless. It came out wrong—sharp and cracked, like glass breaking under pressure. “You’re f*****g joking.” She shook her head. “I didn’t know at first. About the boys. I swear I didn’t.” Didn’t know. As if ignorance could undo damage. As if it could erase the lockers slammed into my back, the whispers that followed me through hallways, the notes slipped into my bag reminding me I was nothing. The universe has a cruel sense of humor. Because now, the people who tormented me at school were my stepbrothers. And there was no escape. We moved in the following weekend. Their father—my stepfather—was kind in that distant, polite way adults get when they don’t know what to do with you. He shook my hand like I was a guest in my own home. Told me I could call him whatever I wanted. He was Alpha Eric, the leader of the Night howl pack, well my pack actually. I chose silence. Kael and Damon didn’t say much either. Not at first. They stood behind him, identical smiles stretched too thin across their faces, eyes locked on me like they’d just been handed a prize they didn’t ask for but fully intended to keep. That was when I understood. This wasn’t just coincidence. This was karma. Not theirs. Mine. At school, nothing changed. Actually—no. That’s a lie. It got worse. They didn’t need to shove me anymore. Didn’t need words sharp enough to cut. All they had to do was look at me, lean close, and whisper things only I could hear. “Family dinner tonight,” Kael murmured once as he passed my desk. Damon smirked. “Don’t be late.” They knew. They knew I couldn’t run home anymore. That my safe place was now shared with them. That my walls had disappeared overnight. Their obsession wasn’t loud. It was quiet. Controlled. Calculated. And that terrified me more than fists ever could. And the worse thing? At home, they played perfect sons. Perfect stepbrothers. They carried boxes. Set the table. Complimented my mother’s cooking like they hadn’t ruined my appetite with their presence alone. I watched them from across the room, my hands clenched under the table, my pulse roaring in my ears. Their father laughed easily, proud. My mother looked relieved, like she’d finally found balance. If I spoke, I would tip everything over. So I stayed quiet. But silence has a cost. And I was paying it. The first time they cornered me was in the hallway at night. The house was asleep. The air heavy with the scent of detergent and unfamiliar cologne. I was walking back to my room when they appeared, one in front of me, one behind. Not touching. Not threatening. Just there. “You look smaller at home,” Kael said coldly. I had always hated him, he never touched me, never hit me but neither did he stop his brother when he did. Damon tilted his head. “Funny, isn’t it?” My heart hammered. “Move.” They did. Immediately. And that was the worst part. Because it wasn’t about trapping me. It was about reminding me they could. I started keeping a notebook. I called it my karma log. Every look. Every whisper. Every moment that made my skin crawl—I wrote it down. Dates. Times. Details. Not because I thought anyone would read it. But because I refused to let them rewrite my reality. If they were obsessed with control, then my karma would be memory. Truth. Proof. One evening, my mother knocked on my door. “You’ve been distant,” she said, sitting on the edge of my bed. “Are the boys bothering you?” My throat tightened. Oh, of course.. why wouldn't I? After she had indirectly quicked my death wish. This was it. The moment. The opening. But when I pictured Kael and Damon downstairs, laughing with their father, being the sons everyone adored, my courage cracked. “They’re fine,” I lied. Her shoulders relaxed. “Good. I just want us to be a family.” Family. I almost scoffed. Almost. The word tasted bitter. The twins’ obsession deepened after that. They started showing up everywhere. The kitchen when I was alone. The backyard when I needed air. Always watching. Always aware. Not desire. Not affection. Ownership. They hated that I saw through them. That I remembered everything. That no matter how charming they pretended to be, I knew who they really were. And they knew I knew. That was the game. The turning point came on a rainy night. Power out. Candles lit. The house wrapped in shadows. Their father was out of town. My mother asleep early. I sat at the dining table, my notebook open, pen hovering. Damon stopped across from me. Kael leaned against the wall. “You write about us a lot, Am flattered.” Damon said with an infruating smirk i tried so hard to hold myself from wiping off his stupid face. My eyes darted to Damon, to Kael and back to him. My blood went cold. “Stay out of my things.” I snarled. He smiled. “You think this ends well for us?” “For you,” I said quietly, finally looking up, “no.” Something shifted. Not anger. Interest. And that was when I understood something terrifying and empowering all at once. Their obsession wasn’t my weakness. It was theirs. And karma? Karma doesn’t forget. Neither do I.