*The following chapter contains graphic content that might upset sensitive readers.* 

The air felt cold on her legs as he lifted her skirt, bunching it around her waist.

"You're always so boring," His hands were trailing higher and higher up her thigh, squeezing the soft flesh as he went further up. "I've never heard you moan," he whispered in her ear, "Why don't you moan for me?"

Her neck felt slimy as his tongue flickered out of his mouth, tasting her skin as if to savour it.

"Nevermind," his fingers tightened around the small metal zip of her skirt, "I'll make it fun for you today."

Please, no.

No.

No.

She couldn't speak. She was terrified to talk. He scared her. He scared her so badly that she had lost every ounce of herself as soon as he stepped into her room. She hated late nights and early mornings in equal measures. She never wanted the sun to set neither did she want it to rise. When it set, she knew she had only a few hours to go before he would seek her out and when it rose- only a few minutes. He would find her in those moments that he knew their mother was oblivious to all but her dreams...

He would find her and he would break her in the cruellest of manners.

His fingers found the most intimate part of her, touching her, rubbing against her, trying to coax the smallest sound from her...

He carried on, touching her softly and gently. "Just once. Call out for me just once..." he whispered, delving further and further into her.

No...

She bit her tongue, tasting blood flow down her throat as her body began to shudder under his touch.

No. Don't do this to me.

Please don't do this to me.

Why was her breath speeding up and why did it feel as if her blood was rushing faster and faster through her veins?

No. She didn't want this. She didn't want him to touch her. Stop it. Stop it.

She wanted to cry as she felt her hands begin to clench and unclench against themselves. She felt her fingernails biting into her palms as he touched her over and over again.

Her tongue was numb. She had bitten it so hard in her attempts not to cry out that she had lost all sensation in her mouth.

"Come on... You like this. I can feel it. I don't even have to use the Vaseline today." His voice was like hot oil against her ears. It was gruff with want and desire and it sickened her to her very core. She could feel him and she could feel his want press against her as his fingers found their way deeper and deeper within her.

Please, please, please, please, please don't.

His right hand wandered up her stomach, cupping her breast before he began to fondle it almost softly...

I don't, I don't, I don't...

She couldn't stop the way her breaths came out as shallow pants nor could she stop the way her fingers shook against the sheets as he brought her closer and close to a feeling she had never felt before. She hated it. Why was he doing this? Why was he turning her own body into a traitorous shell? How could she react to his touch in such a manner that caused her to feel something similar to...

To...

No, it wasn't true.

Her body couldn't like it.

It couldn't like what he was doing to her.

So then... Why...

Why were the muscles in her stomach contracting against his touch? Why couldn't she stop her breaths from fanning his face as touched her? Why were her hands fisting the sheets beside her?

Why?

No.

No, what was happening to her? What was he doing to her body? She didn't want it.

Why... No.

No, please stop.

Please stop touching me like that. I don't want you to touch me. Please don't.

The lights above blinded her as her eyes were forced to open...

Her breaths still came out in shallow gasps and she feel his right hand move away from her skin before he smiled down at her.

"I told you that you would like it." He kissed her roughly, forcing her to gag on his tongue before he removed his fingers from the waistband of her panties. "You might have been silent the whole time, but you liked it." He swept his tongue over his lips, allowing himself to taste the blood he had stolen from her mouth.

She looked down, ashamed at herself for what had just occurred.

"Don't be ashamed," he lifted her chin with his index finger, kissing her softly on her lips once more. "There's nothing shameful about climaxing at a man's touch."

She could taste her own tears as he wiped his hands on her thighs...

He was wrong.

He was wrong and he was a liar.

He wasn't a man. He wasn't a man...

Physically, he was growing closer and closer to her. He could feel the plain cotton fabric of her underwear brush against the back of his hands as he touched her. He wasn't sure how it was that things had gotten as far as they had, but as he brought her closer and closer to the edge of feeling, he could feel her mind and soul drift further and further away. He couldn't understand why she had bit into her lip till it turned white nor why she had shut her eyes so tightly that it had caused wrinkles to form across her forehead. It was as if she were ashamed to admit that she enjoyed his touch even though her shallow breaths and painful grip would bear testimony to it. Her breaths brushed against his chest as she pressed her forehead into the soft material of his t-shirt, clinging onto him as he touched her...

His arm felt numb as her hands curled tighter and tighter around it, yet still, not a sound could be heard coming from her. Not a moan or a whisper or a cry- only a gasp as his touch seemed to explore just a little more of her. He could feel her slowly drifting away.

He could feel her tense around his fingers and her mind shut down as everything around them stilled.

Her breaths, her body, her mouth, her hands.

It all stopped.

Just stopped as he finally pushed her over the edge and she found herself falling.

She opened her eyes, looking down at his hand that was still beneath the waistband of her panties when she felt it. She felt bile rise through her throat at the idea of it all. She had forgotten that feeling...

She had forgotten what it had felt like up until this moment. Up until this moment where her sick, disgusting, ugly body had reminded her of what it felt like to feel pleasure at a man's touch. She hated it. She hated what she felt- It made her feel sick and dirty knowing that her body had reacted to his touch like that. She thought it would feel different with him. She thought her body would feel different if Riaz was the one touching her but it didn't. She felt the same sensations run throughout her entire body as she had when He had touched her like that. What was wrong with her?

Her body wasn't supposed to do that with Riaz. She wanted him to touch her so why did her body react in the exact same manner as it had all those months ago? Why did it still feel the same?

How could she have an orgasm at her brother's touch?

That's what it truly was. She knew it now- it was an undeniable truth that that was what it was. She felt it again but it was never supposed to feel the same way with someone she wanted to have it with. It was...

She hated it. It disgusted her.

She still couldn't catch her breath even as he stepped away from her...

Her body was sick. She was sick... She was sick and she was nasty and she was disgusting...

She was disgusting.

Riaz could almost taste the conflict rolling off of her in great tidal waves as she looked down at the floor. She was scratching at the elbow of her left hand as she tugged and released her bottom lip with her teeth. "Tasneem?"His voice was soft and gentle as he took a step toward her.

"Don't." She took a step away, whispering hoarsely as if she had forgotten how to speak at all. "Just, please don't."

I'm dirty Riaz.

I'm so dirty and I'm so cold...

"Please don't touch me..."She whispered over and over again as she clenched her eyes closed, crossing her arms over herself as if to keep every ounce of feeling buried deep within her.

"Tasneem, please..." He took a smaller step toward her, speaking to her as if she were a frightened kitten. "Don't shut me out again." He took one step closer to her, reaching out a hand as if to touch her hand.

"Don't!" She scrambled backward out of his hold before she crouched down on the ground, crossing her legs as if to guard herself once again.

How could her body feel pleasure as her brother touched her?

How could she feel pleasure as he fondled her and stroked her and caressed her.

She was sick...

She was sick...

How could she feel pleasure as he raped her?

She stood up, holding her hand over her mouth as she ran into the bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet before she spewed out all the dirt and grime and disgust lodged deep within the pit of her stomach.

What did he do to her?

He broke her.

He broke her and nobody could fix her...

Nobody.