Revenge Taste Like Him

KYLA'S POV His hands were on my waist before I could even think straight. That's always how it starts with Elias. No words or permission needed. It's funny how his hands find me in the dark as if they already know every inch of me by heart, pulling me close until there's no room left between us, and thinking becomes impossible. "You're shaking," he whispered in my ear. His voice, so deep and slow, always gets to me, even though I try to pretend it doesn't. "I'm cold," I replied. "Kyla." He said my name like a confession, like he already knew every secret I had ever kept from him. The surrounding room was dark, the familiar walls of his dorm at St. Augustine's barely visible past midnight. I had promised myself I wouldn’t come here tonight. I had been breaking that promise for four months straight. His hands slid up my back with aching patience, and I stopped pretending I didn’t want this. "Tell me to stop," he said softly. His lips were now at my neck, warm and deliberate, taking his time, just like Elias does with everything he truly desires. "Tell me, and I'll stop. Right now." I answered him by tilting my head back, offering him the hollow of my throat. Words failed me. They always did around him. He turned me around to face him. His thumb traced my jaw gently, sending shivers down my spine. My fingers found the front of his shirt, and I pulled him closer. His forehead touched mine. "You have no idea," he said quietly, his breath warm against my lips, "how long I’ve waited for this moment." "Show me," I whispered back. And he did. His hands ran through my hair. Oh! f**k!, I felt so wet underneath when he sucked my lips just like a baby sucking his mother’s breast. I was already trembling, longing for him to take off my panties and f**k the hell out of me. I could feel how hard he was down there. This made my kitty cat sweat profusely, dripping so hard like I had urinated on my red panties. I've never felt like this in my entire life, like I was on cloud nine. I needed a good f**k, someone who can pound my p***y so hard till I c*m, and it’s Elias. I grabbed his hard d**k, pointing like a rod, trying to unzip his trousers while he was still kissing me. All I could think about was how huge his d**k was, imagining him banging my p***y so well. I couldn't resist the desire anymore. Everything else faded. My father's name in the letter, the papers, the war I'd been preparing for since I was thirteen. None of it mattered. For one night, at eighteen, I forgot. I forgot who I was. I forgot who he was. I fell in love with my enemy son. And that was my mistake. Three months later, when the truth finally came out, I discovered the full name of the person I'd been hunting since childhood, the man whose single decision destroyed my whole family. It was his father. But to understand how everything fell apart, we have to go back five years. Back to the night I was thirteen and found my parents dead. ********* "Kyla, are you even listening to me?" Ella’s voice crackled through my earpiece, sharp with exasperation. "Yeah," I replied automatically, though my mind was miles away. She was rambling about a boy who had been staring at her all week, but I barely heard her. A strange unease had settled in my chest, cold and persistent, like a warning I didn’t understand yet. Then it grew stronger. "Kyla?" I slowed down unintentionally. "Are you still there?" "Yeah." Pretending to be listening to her c**k and bull stories. Everything should've felt normal that evening. It usually did. Kids are playing football at the end of the street. Mrs. Wilson's dog barked at everyone who passed by her fence. Music is playing too loudly from someone's house. But that night, there was silence. No barking. No music. No chatter. Just the sound of my shoes on the pavement. And it felt off. Very off. “I’ll call you back,” I said abruptly, ending the call before she could argue. I was thirteen that evening. My biggest worry was a torn hem on my school uniform I’d been hiding from my mother for three days. I was walking home from Ella’s house, rehearsing the excuse I’d given her, convinced that was the worst thing I’d faced that night. My life was small then. A father who left proud little notes on the kitchen table. A mother who could read my mood before I said a word. Ordinary, safe, predictable. That was my life. Small problems. Dad had a habit of leaving notes on the kitchen table before work. Sometimes it was just "Have a good day, kiddo." Sometimes it was "Proud of you." Nothing too dramatic. Just enough to make a bad day feel a bit smaller. Mom always knew when something was up. I could walk into a room, not say a word, and somehow, she'd still ask the exact question I didn't want to answer. As I got closer to home, my chest felt heavier. I kept telling myself it was nothing. Maybe I was just tired. Maybe I was overthinking. But every step felt off somehow, like my body had sensed something before my mind did. And then I saw it. Our front door was wide open. I froze. Dad never left the front door open. Not for deliveries. Not for neighbors. Not even when he was bringing in groceries. He always locked it. Always. Every instinct told me to turn around and leave. Go back to Ella's house. Pretend I never saw the open door. But fear has a weird way of pulling you toward what scares you. But, instead of backing off, I walked forward. One step. Then another. The gate creaked. I could hear my breathing, fast, uneven, too loud in the silence. “Mum?” My voice sounded small, swallowed by the dark. No answer. “Dad?” Nothing. By the time I made it to the doorway, my hands were shaking. I pushed the door open wider. And everything changed. My father was on the floor, and my mother was beside him. For a moment, my mind couldn't process what I was seeing. It felt unreal, like I had walked into the wrong house by mistake. I kept looking between them, waiting for one of them to get up, talk, or tell me it was all a big misunderstanding. But no, this couldn't be happening. I blinked hard. "Wake up, Kyla," I whispered to myself. My voice felt distant, like it wasn't mine. "This is a dream." It had to be. A terrible dream. Any moment now, Dad would sit up and ask why I was standing there like a fool. Mom would scold me for bringing rainwater in. Things would go back to normal. Any moment now, but they didn't move. Seeing it almost broke me all over again. My father’s hand was stretched toward the hallway, fingers outstretched like he had been reaching for me. Like he knew I was coming home. That thought broke me. I dropped to my knees beside him, the impact jarring through my bones. “Dad?” The word cracked out of me, raw and broken. I pressed my trembling hands to his chest the way people do in movies, desperate and foolish, as if I could will him back to life. My mother’s eyes were half-open; she looked like she was just sleeping next to him. I looked between them, waiting. Praying. No one moved. No one breathed. The silence in that house was worse than any scream. I lost track of time. Rainwater crept across the tiles and soaked through my uniform, but I didn’t feel it. Then my gaze caught on the envelope clutched in my father’s hand. My name was written across the front with blood in his familiar handwriting. Kyla. Seeing it almost broke me all over again. With trembling hands, I took it and opened it. "My dearest Kyla, If you are reading this, then I am already gone." My vision blurred instantly. I wiped my eyes and kept going. "There are things you need to know. About a man I trusted. About what was done to us. His name is… The words disappeared behind my tears. I blinked hard and tried again. Sirens echoed in the distance. At first, they were distant, but they were closing in fast. Blue lights flashed through the windows, painting the hallway in cold colors. Panic broke through the numbness. Whoever did this... Whoever Dad was warning me about. What if they came back? What if they already knew about me? I folded the letter, hands shaking, and tucked it in my jacket. One last look at my parents on the floor. Then I turned and ran. Because if I stayed a second longer, I felt like my heart might shatter completely.