Dripping for My Stepbrother(4)
1144 Words
I didn’t go downstairs for breakfast.
The moment the sun rose, I locked myself in my room, curled up under the blankets, and stared at the wall.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Damien’s cold face from last night. The way he had pulled away like I was something dirty. Something disposable.
My phone kept buzzing — messages from my mother asking if I was okay, from Damien which I ignored, and worst of all, from Mark.
Mark: Don’t forget. 2 PM. Central Park café. Come alone or I send the pictures to your precious mommy.
I felt sick. Disgusted with myself. The girl who once thought she was loyal and worthy had become exactly what Mark called her a cheap, filthy w***e who spread her legs for her own stepbrother.
By afternoon, I forced myself to get dressed in a plain black hoodie and jeans. I slipped out of the house without telling anyone and took a cab to the café.
---
Mark was already sitting there, smirking like he owned the world. The moment I sat down, his expression turned ugly.
“Look at you,” he sneered. “Eyes all puffy. Did your new fuckboy already get tired of your boring p***y?”
I stayed silent, hands trembling in my lap.
“You really are pathetic, Elara,” he continued, voice low and venomous.
“First you cry like a baby when I dump you, then you jump on the next d**k you see. And not just any d**k your own stepbrother? That’s some next-level w***e behavior. Does your mother know her daughter is sucking her stepson’s c**k?”
Tears welled up instantly. “Please stop…”
“Stop?” He laughed cruelly. “I haven’t even started. I have photos. Videos from the mall. You and that tattooed bastard looking cozy.
Imagine what your perfect family will think when they see their precious princess acting like a cheap slut.”
I felt like vomiting. My chest tightened so painfully I could barely breathe. “What do you want, Mark?”
“Money,” he said flatly. “Fifty thousand. Transfer it right now. Or I send everything tonight.”
I didn’t even argue. With shaking fingers, I transferred almost all my savings to him. Every rupee I had. When it was done, he smiled coldly.
“Good girl. But honestly? You’re disgusting. No wonder I cheated. Who wants a w***e who jumps from one man to another so fast?”
His words carved deep into my soul. By the time I left the café, I was completely broken. I walked aimlessly for hours, letting the evening turn into night, tears streaming down my face without stopping. I felt filthy. Worthless. A dirty secret that deserved to be hidden.
---
It was past 10 PM when I finally reached home. My face was streaked with dried tears, eyes swollen and red. The moment I stepped inside, I saw him.
Damien was standing in the hallway, talking on the phone. The second his eyes landed on me, his expression shifted.
For a brief second, something like concern flashed across his face, but I didn’t wait to see more. I lowered my head and rushed straight upstairs to my room, locking the door behind me.
I couldn’t face him. I couldn’t face anyone.
Inside my room, I stripped off every piece of clothing, feeling like my skin itself was contaminated. Naked and shivering, I stepped into the bathroom and turned the shower to the hottest setting.
Boiling water cascaded over me as I sank down to the tiled floor, hugging my knees to my chest.
The water burned my skin, but I welcomed the pain. I deserved it.
“I’m disgusting,” I whispered to myself, voice breaking. “Mark is right. I’m a filthy w***e. I let my stepbrother touch me… f**k me… while my parents were in the same house. What kind of girl does that?”
Sobs wracked my body. I cried harder than I had in years loud, ugly, painful cries that echoed against the bathroom walls.
The hot water mixed with my tears as I rocked back and forth, punishing myself with the scalding heat.
I didn’t hear the door open. I didn’t hear him come in.
Only when the shower curtain was pulled aside did I realize Damien was standing there, fully clothed, staring at me with wide, shocked eyes.
“Elara…” His voice was hoarse.
“Don’t!” I screamed, curling tighter into myself. “Don’t look at me! Don’t touch me!”
He stepped into the shower anyway, water soaking his clothes instantly. He knelt down in front of me, trying to pull me into his arms.
“Baby, please—”
“I said don’t touch me!” I shoved him weakly, but he didn’t let go. “Mark is right, Damien. I’m a w***e. A filthy, disgusting w***e. You think the same thing, don’t you? That’s why you were so cold last night.
That’s why you called me a mistake. Because I let you f**k me like a desperate slut. I’m pathetic. I’m dirty. I hate myself—”
My words dissolved into violent sobs. I broke completely in his arms, crying against his wet chest as the boiling water continued to rain down on both of us.
Damien held me tighter, one hand stroking my wet hair even as the hot water burned us both.
“Stop. Please stop, Elara. You’re not any of those things.”
But I couldn’t stop. The dam had burst.
“I gave him all my money today just so he wouldn’t tell everyone what a slut I am. I let him humiliate me because deep down I know he’s right. I jumped into bed with you the same night Mark dumped me.
What kind of girl does that? Only a w***e. A worthless w***e…”
Damien cupped my face, forcing me to look at him. Water streamed down his sharp jawline.
His storm-gray eyes were filled with something raw — pain, regret, and a deep, conflicted tenderness.
“You are not a w***e,” he said fiercely, voice cracking. “You are the only real thing I’ve felt in years. I was cold last night because I’m terrified.
Terrified of what I feel for you. Terrified of destroying you and this family. But seeing you like this… it’s killing me.”
He pressed his forehead against mine, holding me as I continued to cry uncontrollably. The hot water kept falling, turning our skin red, but neither of us moved.
For several long minutes, the only sounds were my broken sobs and the spray of the shower.
Then, very softly, Damien whispered against my lips:
“I don’t know how to stay away from you anymore, Elara. Even if it burns us both.”
- Writer
