Chapter 14: Little Liar: Part 2 – Chapter 14

My back presses to the tree as I drag in heavy breaths to my starved lungs.

Sweat clings to my body like a second skin, dirt splattered all over my legs and ruining my shoes from how fast I’ve been running in the rain. Clearing my head and drowning out the voices only works when I’m exercising or when I’m wrapped up with Olivia, but something wasn’t right when I woke up. I had to detangle myself and slide out from under the covers.

That was hours ago. I think I’ve been running all morning.

My mind is in overdrive. I’m not sure why.

Anxiety has been eating away at me—the kind that wakes you through the night as if you’ve been strangled. The kind where you can’t find your appetite. The kind that makes you think you’re losing your mind.

To be honest, the third point is most likely true.

I roll my neck, savoring the cracking sensation, and pull out my earphone, listening to the woodland’s noises, then hold in a smile when I hear the rushed footfalls of my girlfriend hunting for me.

I told her to wait twenty minutes before she came looking for me when she called and asked where I was. She managed a whole five minutes.

I didn’t want to wake her when I snuck out, but I also wanted to drag her from our bed and demand she deal with the rock-solid cock I’d woken up with after she’d rubbed herself all over it for hours, keeping me awake.

I almost slid inside her while she was lightly snoring.

Almost.

It would’ve helped with how I’m feeling. Maybe it would’ve eased everything, even for an hour.

Fucking her again while she’s not aware is apparently off the table—she’s given me strict rules not to touch her while she’s passed out unless she gives me prior consent.

As boring as I find the restriction she made since coming back to me last week, I’m listening—I even covered her naked body before I went to work out though the voice on my shoulder yelled at me to ravage her.

See? I can be nice.

Olivia doesn’t know it yet, but I’m starting to—

Whack.

“Fuck!”

Something hard hits the side of my head, then there’s a burst of pain and warmth trickling down my face as I pull away from the tree and turn to see Olivia hauling off my gas mask and dropping the baseball bat to the forest floor.

“I’m sorry!” she yells, her eyes wide. “I was supposed to hit the tree, not you!”

I wipe blood from my wound then stare at my red fingers before letting my eyes slowly lift to her. She gulps, taking a step back, but I shake my head and she stops.

“It was an accident.”

Put the mask back on, I sign, because I’m still more comfortable using sign language than speaking. She picks it up and slides it on while I ignore the trail of blood reaching my shoulder and most likely staining my skin. Now pick up the bat.

She lowers to grab it, her movements slow, calculated, as if she’s ready to run any moment.

“What now?”

She stiffens a little as I walk towards her. Branches snap under my shoes—MEJKO is still playing in one of my AirPods, the other safely in my shorts pocket.

Olivia lets out a whimper as I tug the front of her shirt, popping the buttons at her breasts. She’s shaking, but I don’t know if it’s with fear or with the anticipation that I might touch her.

I won’t. Not really.

She’s not wearing a bra, and her nipples go hard from the cold air. I lightly trace my blood-covered fingers over the perfect skin there, the pad of my thumb circling one of her nipples.

Her tits look perfect any other day, but with my blood on them, painting them red? Wearing my mask and holding my bat? I think I might give up on my plan and fuck her right here.

I release her and step back. Take your clothes off. Keep the mask on.

Slowly, she traps the bat between her thighs, unfastens the last two buttons, and lets her shirt fall to the floor, then unbuttons her pants, the bat dropping as she slides them down her legs so she’s only standing in her panties.

White lace.

Now I’m fucking harder.

You’d think having been inside my sister more times than I can count, seeing her like this, basically naked with my blood on her, I’d be used to it. Nope—I’m still very much obsessed with her, even when she’s in her PJs, with knotted hair, and smelling like garlic or some other disgusting thing.

What twenty-eight-year-old gets butterflies like this?

Damn, I love this fucking girl.

“Are you going to just stand there and stare at me all day?” she asks, her voice muffled beneath my gas mask.

The same mask I wore on Halloween night. She likes it—apparently it reminds her of how she let go and allowed herself to fully have me and not worry about the repercussions.

I think I might stand and stare—she’s a fucking masterpiece.

I gulp, knowing my shorts are tented as I drag my teeth over my bottom lip.

Olivia’s terror shines out of her.

Beautiful. Scared. Fuckable.

I want to devour her fucking soul. If she asked me to, I’d do it. Whatever it means. I’d pin her down in the dirt and fuck her so hard, her head would end up buried in the forest floor. Even if she screams for me to stop, I won’t until she’s passed out from lack of oxygen. Leaking. Fucking filled with every drop of my cum, and if any escapes, I’ll finger it all back in and drag another orgasm from her corpse.

“Malachi?”

But then if she’s a corpse, she’ll be dead. Then so would I.

We could haunt our house together.

My sister is very much stuck with me forever. If she tried to run again, I’d chain her back up in the basement and she’d never see the light of day again.

Mine, always mine. And I’ll mean it. Not just a claim of property or a claim on life. Everything about her will be mine.

Already is.

“Malachi?”

If anyone gets in my way, I’ll kill them. I’ll finish off Dad, snap Mom’s neck, and if that little sister of hers gets involved—

“Hey,” Olivia says softly, and she’s right in front of me now on the rug, the mask and bat gone. “Look at me.”

Her clothes are on. Different clothes. Sleepwear.

I blink, disorientated all of a sudden, confusion ripping through me when I look around to see we’re standing in our bedroom.