CADEN

The issue was that those memories weren't just dreams; they were thoughts I deliberately immersed myself in while awake, became last night marked the second time in eight years that I slept peacefully, following a period of excruciating nights.

The vivid, lifelike images left me feeling anxious and confused. It was as though I was reliving those moments from my past, particularly when I was ten years old and helpless in a full bathtub.

I compelled myself to remember these memories as part of a daily ritual, knowing that similar experiences would haunt my dreams and disrupt my peace. It had become embarrassing to sleep next to anyone, fearing I might shit myself in my sleep. Hence, I opted for the solitude and safety of my own room, where no one would know how fucked up I am.

However, last night and the first time Mad and I shared the couch, were both different. With her holding me, the painful memories didn't resurface. As I lie here awake, I'm grappling with a dilemma beside the source of my turmoil.

Why does this only happen with her? What made her so different? Could she be intentionally causing my delirium, perhaps to make a point by manipulating my emotions?

Is she leading me down a path, only to emotionally devastate me when I'm completely ruined and unable to stop it? Could that be why she so readily gave up her virginity when I was intoxicated? Does she intentionally toy with my emotions whenever she's near, gradually becoming an addiction, unlike any of the women I've encountered before? Because despite having been with others, none have ever stirred desire in me like she does.

Despite tailing her since her return from work yesterday, we haven't had a chance to discuss the reality of our situation. She has consumed my thoughts from every angle, I can't understand how she's so persuasive even in my head. She had managed to breach the boundaries of our familial relationship, disregarding our sibling status, and pushing me toward actions we shouldn't engage in.

Who is she? What makes her exceptional to my mind? How can she control me like that?

I find myself in a cluttered abyss where doing the right thing seems insignificant, and embracing the wrong path feels like a bottomless pit I can't escape. Yet, somehow, I continue to follow.

While I'm grateful that we haven't addressed our intentions from yesterday, I realize solving this complexity would be a challenge. Right now, I have an exit strategy in mind, although I'm aware it's wrong and might hurt her.

I'm infuriated that she's taking an important part of me. This shouldn't be happening. I shouldn't forget those memories. My emotions should be solely focused on seeking revenge.

I shifted my head to the left and noticed Madison staring at me for an extended period. She was snuggled against my arm, sleeping peacefully, her even breaths filling the room. Her full hair nearly concealed the pillow beneath her.

I've misled her by making her doubt her self-worth, a falsehood I would continue to utter whenever I looked at her. She was the most beautiful young woman I knew, and her refusal to rely on makeup only enhanced her natural beauty.

Unbeknownst to her, her natural beauty outshone those who tried to conceal their imperfections with makeup. I felt a growing attachment, and I wished I could switch off these emotions as easily as I had believed.

As I watched her sleep, I observed her lips pressed tightly into a thin line, and her eyes blinked intermittently. Startled, I shifted my gaze to the white ceiling.

I sensed her movement as the bed shifted, and her voice, soft and soothing, beckoned my attention: "Hey? Good morning? You woke up early."

Suppressing the urge to look at her, I focused instead on thoughts of the deep bathtub water and memories of my mother and Cara, avoiding anything related to Madison. I desperately wished for something, anything other than thoughts of her to occupy my mind.

She was changing me, reshaping my culture and traditions, and I was frightened by this transformation. Suddenly, her touch interrupted my turmoil—a delicate sensation tracing my jawline, just as it had last night when I pretended to sleep. This time, my body reacted involuntarily, and I recoiled.

My heart raced, and my breathing quickened. "Do not touch me," I snapped, retreating from the bed.

Her response was to sit up. "Caden..." she called, her eyes wide and filled with confusion as I raised my palm to halt whatever she was about to say.

"Stop! Just stop trying," I commanded, my eyes fixed on her, warning her that her efforts were in vain. "There will be nothing between us," I declared, my tone filled with frustration, keeping a safe distance from her.

A deep blush spread across her face. For a few moments, she simply gazed at me, her glossy eyes brimming with intense emotions. Then a glimmer of understanding flickered across her features, and she swallowed, her throat shifting subtly.

"Are we reverting to the way things were... before?" Her voice was barely a whisper, but the pain in her tone was unmistakable.

She blinked rapidly, her eyes never leaving mine. I wished we could undo that initial mistake, wished we could turn back time. I couldn't stay here, watching her suffer, whether it was because of me or part of her own plan. "I'm going out," I announced, needing to find solace away from her, to quell my racing heartbeat.

Yet, of course, Madison couldn't simply let this go. Of course, she had to press for answers I didn't possess. She followed me, wearing those alluringly short shorts that accentuated her rounded figure. "Why are you doing this?"

"Stop following me," I warned, my gaze fixed on unlocking my bedroom door, which I had previously claimed was damaged.

Though I sounded foolish, my longing for her closeness outweighed my desire for privacy. "So the door was open," she muttered irritably, walking into my bedroom behind me.

I wished she would let me be, wished she would exit my room. Everything would be so much simpler.

But she scoffed and asserted, "You're constantly battling something I can't comprehend."

Perhaps she was right. Maybe she possessed a keen insight into my mind, one I hadn't shared with her. Maybe that's why I wanted her out of my room—because if she stayed, I would never be the same.

Facing away from her, I received a notification. "Mad, leave my sight," I said, my frustration evident.

"Aren't we going back to how things were?" Her voice held a tinge of pain.

I desperately wished she would leave, that she would understand my need for space. But she drew nearer instead.

Damn it."Mad, get out of my sight." Wishing she takes it as a sign to let me be.

Well, she dares herself and stepped even closer instead.

Fucking hell.

When did one's own privacy become too much to ask for?

"What is it? Why are you kind and then you're angry and then you're nice then you're giving me cold shoulder? Why do you give me signals and afterward turn it into my fault? What are you afraid of?" She pressed for more than she should. It was getting on my nerves. I could barely hold my temper.

Why wouldn't she just leave? I have no fucking answer for any of her questions.

"Nothing, get out," I answered baring teeth.

"What do you mean nothing?" Oh for fuck sake. "A normal person isn't this maniac. You're unpredictable." She kept on. "Always playing with my emotions and for what reason? Abusing me any chance you get. Punishing me for something that's not my fault. Being vulgar and ignoring my feelings at the end. That is not nothing, Caden." Her voice fills every space of the apartment with pressure, it was pounding in my head, evoking a very unpleasant headache.

Please make her leave.

"Why won't you talk to me? Just talk to me, please. I'll understand. I'm your stepsister, your family," she pleaded, her voice trembling. Her behavior baffled me; I couldn't comprehend her anymore.

Family? Stepsister? Is she out of her mind? We spent the entire night flirting, not to mention we've been fucking like wild animals at every chance.

But as if the pain she was causing me wasn't enough, she reached out and touched me, her hand resting on my bare back.

I stiffened at the warmth of her touch before turning around. I wouldn't let her manipulate me.

My anger boiled over, and I seized upon a specific phrase from her plea. "Talk to you?" I sneered down at her, my malice evident.

Her expression turned to one of fear. Perhaps I was frightening her, or maybe she was dreading what I was about to say.

I couldn't stop myself, even if it meant causing wounds with my words. "I reject professionals, so why would I talk to a misguided therapist like you? The reason you have no clients is crystal clear – you can't even manage your own messed-up life, yet you attempt to fix others without a clue about the world."

She had no right to steal my nightmares; they didn't belong to her. No matter how agonizing they were, they reminded me of who I truly was.

She shouldn't be stealing my emotions and identity, leaving me exposed and yearning only for her. She shouldn't be trying to heal me; I never asked for rehabilitation. Maybe I prefer pain over happiness.

"Healing doesn't happen just because you kiss me. Don't delude yourself into thinking that having me fuck you and making me fall for you will lead to some fairy tale ending. This is reality, and I despise your existence. I wish you'd disappear and never return," I spat out, my words cruel and cutting.

Her face flushed deeply in response to my harsh words.

Anything to drive her out of my mind. So I resorted to saying horrible things, reverting to my former self.

"You're a poison, that's why you're always on the fringes. Stop trying to claim a family connection with me; you're never part of my family, and you never will be," I growled, exhaling loudly in her face.

My heart raced, and I could hear hers too from where I stood. I could see tears forming in her eyes, and oddly, that suited me just fine.

My gaze remained emotionless as I escorted her out of my room and slammed the door shut.

Perhaps I needed something to drown out the trauma.

Paxton.

He had befriended some guys from a fraternity, and they had been inviting me to join. Now seemed like the right time to take them up on the offer. After all, it was the weekend – the perfect opportunity to spend time at the frat house.

There would be parties, alcohol (now that I had become a drinker), and plenty of pussies to distract me.

I quickly texted Paxton, changed into clean jeans and a shirt, and promised to shower once I got there. All I wanted was to escape this suffocating apartment.

As I stepped out of my room, the silence enveloped me, and the emptiness felt almost comforting. Mad's room was nearby, so I assumed she was there.

Seizing the chance, I left the apartment, eager to escape the torment within those walls.