STEPBROTHER (R-18)

Scarletts P.O.V

Afteryou'reyour dressed you decide to go find him. You search the house.

Where the hell is he? Maybe he left.

You checked the driveway and notice his car is still parked there.

Okay, but he's not in his room.

It's not until you hear the music coming from the garage that you find him. He shirtless, sweat dripping down his body and disappearing into shorts as he punches away at the punching bag that hung from the stand in the corner of the garage. When the hell did they put that there?

Your eyes linger on the sculpted muscles of his back as he throws more blows at the back.

Damn... he's really fit.

"Are you just going to stand there staring at me?"

"Shit, sorry. Didn't think you noticed me."

"Of course, I noticed you!"

You wrap your arms around yourself and step forward. He turns the music down and twist his head to look at you.

"just fucking leave, Scarlett"

You frown and place your hands on your hips.

"Not until you fucking talk to me."

You shrug.

"It's not good to keep all that shit in. You gotta let it out."

I know firsthand about what it means to deal with bullshit. I used to wonder whether we'd have a warm place to lay our heads when i was younger. No stability. Keeping it bottled up just makes the problems bigger. "What the fuck do you think I'm doing?"

He slams his fists wildly against the punching bag, panting loudly. His hair is coated with sweat, slicking it to his head. He swipes if off his forehead and ignores you.

"What happened? Who did that to you? Does your dad know?"

"He doesn't needs to fucking know. I can handle it."

"Oh yeah, beating the piss out of a punching bag and not letting him know about the toxic environment at home is really handling it."

He turns and stalked angrily towards you. He towers over you a good two feet. You see then tension throughout his body but you don't back down. You meet him head on, with a stern expression of your own. "What don't you understand, I don't want to be fucking bothered."

You scoff.

He needs to know firsthand what it means to be persistent.

"I'm just doing the same shit you do to me. Pestering the hell out of you to get what i want."

Oliver's sighs, throwing up his arms defeatedly before he runs his tongue over his teeth.

"If i tell you, will you leave me the hell alone?"

"I can't guarantee that."

"It was my moms piece of shit boyfriend, Rick."

"He hit you?"

"No shit"

"Why did he do that?"

"No, i told you I'd tell you who hit me. That's it. The door is right over there."

He points towards the door.

Like i don't fucking know where there door is... asshole.

"God forbid some actually gives a shit."

"I don't care. I don't want you potty. I don't need your sad eye bullshit, okay?"

Sad eye bullshit? He's a lot more fucked up than I thought.

You nod your head slowly, scrutinising him.

"Now i see why you treat women the way you do... you resent your own damn mother, so let's take it out on the whole species" "Fuck you! You don't know shit about me."

You tap your chin mockingly.

"How much more is there to know? There's no depth to you, babe. As shallow as it gets."

Without uttering another word, Oliver leaves you in the garage. You move quickly following along to catch up worth him.

"Running away from your problems isn't how you solve them, you know."

"God, you really cant take a fucking hint."

"That makes two of us. Now, you should tell your father"

He stops so suddenly you run into the back of him. You stumble backwards, catching yourself. He spins around, a menacing glare on his face.

"Do yourself a favour and don't be concerned with me. I'm not with you. I could fuck you and throw you away right after easily. I wouldn't even blink. In fact, I'd probably enjoy doing it. Worry about yourself."

Are you serious right now? Wow. I cant believe I let him put his hands on me in the car... i cant believe i let my body convince me that I wanted him. He's a player. A fucking jerk who doesn't give a shit about anybody but himself.

"Glad to know where i stand. Don't worry. I wasn't interested in being with you. You're too fucking broken anyways. Besides, I wouldn't waste my time with someone who claims they're a man but still acts like a child"

He's quiet, ruminating over your words, letting them settle on his tongue unfavourably. He sighs before turning and leaving you standing there.

Why the fuck do i do this to myself? Why do i give a fuck about people who don't deserve it? Well, whether he wants me to or not, i feel bad about him being hit.0000