Chapter Text
When I was a child, I tried to see how long I could hold my breath under water.
One second. Two. Three … Five. Enough.
I would yank my head out of the plugged in sink, staring at the water pooled in there and grin. It was a fun game. It was safe. Anytime I wished, I could just raise my head. It was all in my hands. All in my control.
I couldn’t get hurt.
Then one day, I told my brother about it. Wide eyed, flushed cheeks, I bragged about how strong I was. How my nine year old lungs could hold on for ten whole seconds.
“Underwater, how cool is that, Kellan? Don’t you think that’s so cool?”
I puffed my little chest out, desperate for his approval. Anything for him to look at me like I wasn’t an inconvenience.
My heart almost stopped when he turned to look at me. His light gray eyes seemed to pass through me, as if I wasn’t even there. I remembered mom huddled against the kitchen shelf looking at him that morning. Shoulders curled in, coffee mug held close to her mouth.
“I hate your eyes,” she had whispered to him. “I hate how cold they are. No fourteen year old should have eyes like this.”
I had felt a strong rush of defensiveness. I wanted to barge in and tell my mother off.
How could she say that to him? Didn’t she know it could hurt his feelings?
He had simply looked up and asked her, “Like what?”
“Eyes like a killer …” She had choked and I had rushed in, ready to defend him, but then I stopped.
Kellan had his eyes downcast. He absentmindedly stirred his cereal, not bothering to eat it.
And then slowly, he smiled.
The memory sent a shiver through me but I held on to my grin as his eyes pinned me in place.
“Oh really? Care to show me?”
He asked, his voice low and bland, almost like he wasn’t interested. I shook off his indifference and ran towards him; hands clutching his arm as I pulled him towards the washroom. He let himself be dragged, not putting an ounce of effort even though he could easily shake me off. Soon, I was standing in front of the sink and dipping my head in. I counted to five seconds and then yanked my head up, eyes twinkling.
“See?”
He stared at the swirling water for a minute and then looked back at me. His head tilted to the side as he took in my wet hair. Slowly, the corner of his lips turned up. A strange light entered his eyes, almost making him look like a stranger,
“Aw, that’s no fun.” The words immediately dimmed my smile. I could feel my lips turning down and disappointment curdling my heart.
“But, do you want me to show you how to make it fun?”
Immediately, my heart lit up and I nodded frantically. Anything, to make it fun for him!
He gently brought his hand to my wet hair and gave it a ruffle. The gesture was so affectionate and so rare that it heated my cheeks. I could practically feel the stars glowing in my eyes.
And then, before I could continue beaming at him, his fingers tightened in my hair in a brutal grip. In an instant, my head was forced in the water. The cold hit me first, stealing the air from my lungs and replacing it with shock.
Above me, I heard his voice.
“It’s so much more fun when someone else does it, isn’t it? Now, let’s count, shall we?”
One. Two. Three … Five. It wasn’t enough.
Ten. It wasn’t a fun game anymore.
Twelve. It wasn’t safe anymore.
Panic began as a small, unpleasant ache in my chest, but it grew with terrifying speed, expanding through my entire body until it drowned out every coherent thought. My lungs were already beginning to burn, each passing second intensifying the pressure until it felt as though my ribcage was being slowly crushed from the inside.
I pushed upward instinctively but his grip tightened, forcing me down. The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. He wasn't going to let me up.
The water around me seemed to stretch into infinity, transforming from something harmless into something monstrous. Every instinct I possessed was screaming at me to breathe, to get to the surface, to survive, but no matter how hard I struggled, there was no escape from the hand tangled in my hair.
Eighteen. I was not in control anymore.
My chest convulsed. The sensation was unbearable.
My lungs felt swollen and ready to burst, every muscle in my body straining against the desperate need for air. I couldn't think anymore. I couldn't think about where I was. I couldn't think about anything except the terrible, all-consuming certainty that if I didn't breathe soon, something inside me was going to break.
Twenty. I was going to get hurt.
The fight gradually drained from my limbs. Even though, I did not want to stop struggling, my body was reaching its limit. My arms felt heavy. My legs felt distant. The darkness creeping into the edges of my vision grew thicker with every passing second, turning the water around me into a suffocating blur.
A horrible thought began to take shape, growing larger and more terrifying with every second that followed.
What if he forgot to stop? What if he didn't care enough to stop?
When his counting finally reached twenty-five, I was no longer certain I could survive another second.
Then, just as suddenly, his grip in my hair suddenly jerked upward.
The surface exploded around me. Air crashed into my lungs so violently that it hurt.
I doubled over immediately, coughing and choking as water streamed down my face. Every breath felt raw, scraping through my throat and chest, but I couldn't stop dragging in more. My entire body trembled uncontrollably as I clung to the edge of the sink, sucking in air with a desperation I had never experienced before.
The moment I managed to drag enough air into my lungs to stay conscious, my legs gave out beneath me.
I collapsed onto the hard floor, my hands catching me before my face could hit the tile. Water dripped from my hair and clothes in steady streams, forming little puddles beneath me, but I barely noticed. My entire body was shaking too hard for me to focus on anything except the lingering ache in my chest and the terrifying memory of those endless seconds beneath the water.
Then the tears came. The undignified, ugly kind that tore their way out of me in broken gasps and hiccupping sobs.
Each breath caught in my throat before dissolving into another strangled sound, my shoulders jerking violently as everything I had been holding inside spilled out at once.
Fear. Relief. Confusion. The crushing humiliation of having been so terrified.
Eventually, I lifted my head.
My vision was blurred with tears, but I could still see him standing there.
And smiling.
His gray eyes, usually so flat and lifeless that they reminded me of old steel left forgotten, were gleaming with unmistakable amusement. There was a brightness in them that I rarely saw, as though he had genuinely enjoyed himself.
Something in my chest twisted as I continued to look at him with unbearable hurt.
Slowly, he crouched down in front of me and one strong arm slid around my shoulders and pulled me against him.
My forehead bumped lightly against his chest.
I stiffened like a petrified animal, clasped in the lion’s claws.
His warm hand settled between my shoulder blades, anchoring my body against him.
"There, there," he said, laughter still lingering in his voice. "It's okay. It was fun, wasn't it? You were so cool, just then."
The mocking words should have made me pull away. They should have made me hit him. They should have made me scream. Instead, another sob escaped me.
My mind knew he was the reason I was crying. My mind knew he was the reason my lungs still ached every time I breathed. My mind knew that every horrible second beneath that water had been because he chose not to let me up.
But … he was also my brother. My protector.
Isn’t that what daddy said when he came to live with us when I was only five?
That, Kellan was my older brother who would always keep me safe?
My exhausted brain somehow tangled safety and danger together until I could no longer tell where one ended and the other began. So even as fresh tears slid down my face, I found myself leaning into him. My fingers curled helplessly into the fabric of his shirt.
I held on.
And while his hand continued its slow rhythm across my back, I pressed my face against his chest and concentrated on the steady rise and fall beneath my cheek.
Breathing. Just breathing.
Afraid to stop breathing.
***
“Do you want to count like you used to as a kid, baby sister?”
The words settled over me like ice water, soft and almost playful in their delivery, which somehow made them infinitely worse. There was no anger in his voice, no raised tone, no visible irritation. If anything, he sounded amused, and that familiar note of amusement was enough to make my blood run cold because I had learned a very long time ago that he was at his most frightening when he was entertained.
My back arched instinctively against the hard metal railing as his fingers remained curled around my throat, his grip crushing. His hand was so large that it seemed capable of circling my entire neck without effort, and the awareness of his strength sat heavily inside my chest, pressing against my lungs until every breath felt shallow and insufficient.
I hated how easily he dwarfed me.
Over the years, he had grown into something that no longer seemed entirely human. He was simply too large, too sharp, too imposing. Standing beside him had always made me feel small, but tonight, perched precariously on the balcony railing with nothing beneath me except darkness; the difference between us felt overwhelming.
My long hair spilled over the edge, strands of gold dancing in the harsh night wind as the city glittered impossibly far below. The sight used to be beautiful to me whenever I stepped outside.
Now, it made my stomach churn. I couldn't stop imagining how fragile I was compared to the vast emptiness beneath me. The wind seemed stronger at this height, tugging at my clothes, brushing icy fingers across my skin, making me acutely aware of every inch of exposed space around me.
If he let go, I would fall down. I would never survive a drop like this. I would be brain matter. The idea terrified me so much, making more tears fall from my eyes.
And through it all, he stood perfectly still.
The darkness loved him.
It gathered around his broad shoulders and sharp frame as though it belonged there, emphasizing the severe lines of his face and the stark contrast of black hair against pale skin.
He was beautiful in the way winter storms were beautiful, in the way cliffs were beautiful, in the way dangerous things often were. Looking at him felt like looking at something carved from marble and ice.
His gray eyes held mine. Those eyes had haunted me for most of my life.
People always described them as striking, but that wasn't the word I would have chosen. Striking implied warmth, fascination, admiration. His eyes were none of those things. They reminded me of steel left buried beneath snow, cold and hard and untouched by sunlight.
Sometimes they looked almost silver beneath certain lights, and sometimes they looked completely colorless, as though whatever made other people human had simply never been placed inside him.
My lips parted, but no sound emerged. He stared at them for a beat too long and then, his other hand moved towards the buckle of his pants. I watched in terror as he made quick work of it, bringing his hardened cock out. I could see the veins protruding in the thickness of it, could see the glistening head and a sinking feeling gripped me.
This was arousing for him. My fear was turning him on.
Then, in another flash, he pushed my dress up and yanked my panties down. A scream lodged in my throat as he thrust in without preamble. My dry walls clenched painfully around him. The wrongness of it burned me from the inside. I wanted to scream and scream and scream but even that was not in my control. His hand pulsed around my throat harshly once, blocking my airways and then he let go. I felt my upper body be dragged downwards and I clutched him blindly, afraid of the fall. A throaty chuckle escaped him as he watched me impale myself further on him.
His hands gripped the railing on either side of my body as he thrust into me with brutal force. With every thrust my body was pushed further down the rail. Heartbroken sobs left my body as I realised what this was.
One of his worst games ever.
If I tried to push him away, I’d fall to my death. And, if I kept holding on to him, I had no choice but to take the brutal assault on my body.
I felt his eyes darken and his breathing turned harsh. He looked at me with such manic possession that I almost let go of him just to hide from that unhinged gaze.
Then, with an animalistic growl, he came deep inside of me, filling me with a terrible mixture of shame and guilt.
Finally, his hands left the railing and travelled up my body, tangling in my hair. He took in my swollen eyes, the tears still dropping down my cheeks and the blood that now trickled from my lip from biting too hard.
He slowly touched my forehead with his and my heart felt like it was a sad, shriveled little thing.
“I hate you so much.” He whispered the words like they were a lover’s caress. “Every second of every day, I will remind you how much I hate you. Until, my hatred lives inside of you.”
He breathed the words against me, killing what was left inside of me.
“Until I am all you know. Until I am the air you breathe.”
His tongue slowly licked at my bottom lip, tasting my blood.
“Until I am the blood that flows inside your fucking veins.”
His lips latch onto my lower lip, sucking the blood like a vampire as he pulled me into him so tight, I didn’t know where he ended and I began.
Sure, that I won’t fall to my death anymore.
I closed my eyes hard, hoping that when I opened them, my own personal monster would be no longer here.
The monster I hated and loved in equal measures.
The monster who would never let me go.