The boy who tormented me at school became my brother. By day, he’d shove me into a bathroom stall at school, his laughter echoing with my humiliation. By night, he’d sit in front of our parents, ruffling my hair with a gentle, loving smile. My nightmare had followed me home. 1 Caleb Vaughn slipped into my room at one in the morning. He stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, a look of satisfaction on his face as he watched me cower in the corner. "Good girl," he murmured. "You didn't lock the door tonight." ... I’d locked it yesterday. The next morning at school, he cornered me in the girls' bathroom and cut my bra strap with a pair of scissors. Now, in the suffocating darkness of my room, he sauntered toward me. His face was a study in perfection, but when he smiled, all I saw was a demon crawling up from the abyss. He gripped my chin, his other hand moving with practiced ease to the buttons of my pajama top. His fingers paused, tracing the delicate line of my collarbone. A strange, searing heat bloomed under his touch, and I flinched, an involuntary shudder that only earned a cruel, mocking chuckle. He leaned in, his body pressing close, his breath hot against my ear. "Right here," he whispered, the alien warmth of his voice seeping through my skin, a poison spreading through my veins. "How about we tattoo my name on you?" Panic, sharp and blinding, ripped through me. I shoved him away with all my might. He straightened up, shrugging with an air of casual indifference. "I'm just kidding." ...But every one of Caleb's "jokes" had a way of becoming my reality. His eyes scanned my closet, landing on a simple sundress hanging on a hook. He pointed. "Wear that tomorrow." Yes. After Caleb Vaughn became my stepbrother, he began to control everything. Even what I wore. 2 Caleb Vaughn hated me. I knew this with absolute certainty from the first day I transferred into his class. He was the student council president, a top-ten student, handsome and popular. He had the entire school eating out of the palm of his hand. Which made it terrifyingly easy for him to turn my life into a living hell. It started with social isolation. The moment everyone realized Caleb had it out for me, I became a pariah. No one would even look at me. Then, the violence began. Caleb himself rarely laid a hand on me. He didn't have to. He had an arsenal of other, more creative ways to grind my dignity into dust, to make sure I could never hold my head high again. He took scissors to the long hair I'd been growing for years, then held my head, forcing me to watch my own shattered reflection in the mirror. He had his cronies scrawl obscene words on my desk in permanent marker, their raucous laughter filling the classroom as I tried in vain to scrub them away. The constant harassment made it impossible to focus on my studies. My grades plummeted. And they were always there, waiting for the teacher to hand back our tests, ready to shout my failing scores to the entire class. So when my dad told me the woman he was marrying had a son—and that son was Caleb Vaughn—I felt my world collapse. 3 "From now on, he's your brother." My dad clapped him on the shoulder, pushing him toward me. Caleb’s lips curved into that familiar, charming smile. "Caleb's a great student," my dad continued, oblivious. "If you have any trouble with your homework, you can just ask him." So that night, Caleb "tutored" me. He stood behind me, leaning over the desk, his fingers brushing the edge of my paper in a gesture that was meant to look helpful. A good, caring brother. But under the table, his knuckles were pressing, slowly and deliberately, into the small of my back. "You can tell your dad everything I've done to you," he whispered, his voice a low threat. "But I think you can guess what the consequences will be." ... The next morning, I didn't wear the dress Caleb had chosen. At the breakfast table, he simply raised an eyebrow, saying nothing. He was a master of disguise, always playing the part of the perfect, well-behaved son in front of our parents. But by the front door, in the blind spot near the shoe rack, his mask slipped. He kicked the toe of my sneaker. "Didn't I tell you to wear the dress?" "..." I bit my lip and finally looked up at him. "Why do you have to do this to me?" We were complete strangers before my dad met his mom. His hatred for me was so direct, so visceral, and it made no sense. He didn't deign to answer. Instead, he leaned down, his eyes boring into mine. "You don't listen?" A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. "You're screwed." ... 4 I thought if I could just stay in the classroom, surrounded by people, I might be safe. I might escape his games for one day. I underestimated him. After morning exercises, I returned to my desk and reached into my pencil case for a pen. My fingers brushed against something soft and squirming. I peered inside, and a choked scream died in my throat. I flung the case away from me as if it were on fire. The one thing I'm terrified of—bugs. And my pencil case was filled with writhing, hairy caterpillars. Some fears are primal, a revulsion that’s both physical and psychological. For me, the mere sight of a bug is enough to make my skin crawl, my entire body break out in a cold sweat. I scrambled backward, knocking over my chair with a loud crash. I was terrified. Genuinely, gut-wrenchingly terrified. But as I huddled in the back of the room, my fear became everyone else's entertainment. "Jesus, what was that?" "Dave, what did you put in her pencil case? Look at her, she's freaking out." Caleb walked in just then, a stack of papers in his hand. He saw me, and a look of mock concern crossed his face as he crouched in front of me. "Hey, you're actually crying." His thumb gently brushed against my eyelid, and I jerked my head away. That, apparently, was the wrong move. His fingers tightened on my jaw, forcing me to look at him. "Such a goddamn coward." "..." For the rest of the afternoon, his friends loitered near my desk, snickering. I kept my head down, terrified they were going to plant more bugs on me. "Hey," Caleb's voice came from behind me as school let out. "You mad at us?" He toyed with the keychain on my backpack. "You never used to get mad, no matter what we did." I took a deep, shuddering breath and stood, turning to face him. "Caleb, do I have some kind of history with you that I don't know about? Why are you doing this to me?" The setting sun caught in his eyes, creating a sliver of brilliant, beautiful light. He smiled, a look of pure, gentle affection. "You're so cute." ... Psychopath. 5 My dad raised me on his own. He always said I was too quiet, too withdrawn, that I never told him anything. He was right. I have an incredible capacity for endurance. The fact that I’d survived two years of Caleb’s relentless bullying without a complete mental breakdown was proof of that. For the most part, I had learned to ignore them. But the bugs… that had crossed a line. So when we got home, I gave him the silent treatment. His "good brother" mask started to crack. I expected an explosion, but instead, after his shower, he just walked into my room. "Tch. Still mad?" he asked, his tone laced with something I couldn't quite decipher. I kept my head down, focusing on the math problem in front of me, and ignored him. "You know, I wasn't the one who put the bugs in there," he continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "If I'd known you were that scared of them..." He leaned closer. "...I would have made sure they appeared in a much more... exciting way. Right?" It was like a whisper from a demon's lips. And then, to my horror, he ruffled my hair, a grin in his voice. "Problem four is wrong. No wonder you're so stupid." ... I gritted my teeth and angrily scratched out all my work on the page. His only response was a soft, mocking laugh. 6 The next day, the boy who put the bugs in my pencil case apologized to me in front of the whole class. He stammered through his words, but the fresh bruises on his face told the real story. I kept my eyes on my textbook and didn't look at him. My desk was still covered in the filthy words they'd written, but they'd taken it a step further. They'd given me the most broken-down desk in the classroom. It wobbled every time I tried to write. Frustrated, I pressed down harder, and it let out a loud squeak. Suddenly, a hand pressed down on the corner, steadying it. Caleb was crouching in front of me. He folded a piece of paper and wedged it under the short leg. "..." He was acting strangely these past few days. I knew better than to think he was showing me mercy. In my experience, when Caleb eased up, it just meant he was planning something much, much worse. He stood, hands in his pockets, and looked down at me. After a long moment, a slow, lazy smile spread across his face. ... Today was my birthday. In previous years, it had always been a day I looked forward to. But this year, there was Caleb. That evening, our new family went out to a nice restaurant to celebrate. The cheerful atmosphere couldn't distract me from the oppressive presence of the boy sitting next to me. Under the table, his leg kept brushing against mine, not by accident. When it was time to blow out the candles, he even reached over, his fingers giving my waist a light, playful tap. ... My dad got me an e-reader. His mom gave me a necklace. And Caleb gave me a bottle of perfume. The gift box felt a little heavy, but I didn't think anything of it at first. I never wanted a second look at anything he gave me. The moment we got home, I tossed it into a corner of my room. Until midnight, when he pushed my door open. He moved through my room with a practiced stealth that was deeply unsettling. I frowned at his smiling face. "Aren't you going to look at my gift?" he asked, leaning casually against the doorframe. I'd already opened it at the restaurant. He must have seen the confusion on my face because he added with a smirk, "There's a second layer." ... Caleb always knew exactly how to humiliate me. My dear brother's birthday gift. The first layer was a bottle of perfume. The second layer was a collar. A dog collar. ... I glared at him, but his smile was infuriatingly pleasant. "Custom-made. Took three months. Don't you like it?" He strolled over, lifted the collar from the box, and held it around my neck. The cool, smooth leather brushed against my skin. He tilted his head, his smile widening. "Perfect fit." I shoved him away. I knew this was what he wanted. He loved to see this look in my eyes. Humiliated. Furious. Helpless. The more I suffered, the more he thrived. 7 When the results of the next exam came back, I stared at the pathetic scores. I've never been good with numbers. Subjects like math and physics have always been a struggle. The paper had already been passed around the entire class. By the time it reached me, it was crumpled and worn. After class, the teacher called me to her office. Someone else was already there. If I was consistently second to last, he was consistently dead last. I'd barely seen his face all semester; he always kept himself hidden in the corner of the classroom. "You two are the worst in my math class," the teacher said, her sharp gaze piercing through her glasses. "I've arranged for someone to help you. I expect you to study hard." She looked at both of us. "The three of you will be a study group. If you have any questions, you ask Caleb Vaughn. Got it?" ... Caleb Vaughn. The ringleader of my tormentors was now my tutor. I watched as he walked into the office, the teacher clapping him on the shoulder, her face full of hope. He just smiled and looked at me. I could already imagine it. This wasn't a study group. This was the beginning of a new nightmare. ... The afternoon sun streamed through the classroom windows. Caleb was sitting on the desk in front of me. "What the hell, man? You're really gonna tutor these two idiots?" one of his friends joked from behind him. The other boy in our "study group," the one who always seemed to be curled into a ball, was named Leo Roth. He was huddled in the corner now, trembling. I knew he was a frequent target of the same group of bullies. And I suspected he might have some genuine learning difficulties. "Alright, let's look at the first problem," Caleb said, picking up my test paper with a theatrical flourish. My attention, however, was on the boy beside me. He was shaking so badly that his desk was vibrating. "Hey." I snapped back to reality as Caleb's foot kicked my desk. He stood over me, long-limbed and arrogant, hands in his pockets. "Are you looking at me or at him?" "..." We locked eyes for a long moment before he broke into a grin. "One of you got a 21, the other got a 12. You two are a perfect match." ... Maybe it was Caleb's taunts about my grades, but when my dad saw my test scores that night, he blew up. "You used to win gold medals in the math Olympiad in elementary and middle school, remember? What happened to you?!" ...It was true. The awards were still hanging on my bedroom wall. But now, the sight of numbers just gave me a headache. I stared at the test paper. I knew it took me longer to understand math than other students. I couldn't even apply the formulas correctly. Because my dad had insisted, Caleb was now in my room, officially sanctioned to tutor me. He leaned against my desk. I braced myself for another round of insults, but he just said, softly, "Ask me if you don't understand something." ... I thought the sun must have risen in the west. Then his mom walked in with a plate of fruit. "I'm so glad to see you two getting along so well," she said, beaming. Caleb's mom was a kind, elegant woman who had always been incredibly nice to me. She'd told me once that Caleb had a younger sister before... but something happened. She had passed away. Because of that, she was always worried that Caleb and I wouldn't get along. "Alright, you two study hard. Caleb, make sure you help your sister." The moment his mother was out the door, Caleb's face changed. He leaned over me from behind, his fingers slowly, deliberately, pinching my earlobe. "Leo Roth," he murmured, saying the name of the trembling boy from that afternoon. "How about you seduce him?" ... I couldn't understand the twisted logic of his mind. What was he trying to achieve? "I—" The word "no" was still on my lips when he grabbed my chin. He narrowed his eyes, his thumb stroking my jaw. "If you refuse, I'll post those pictures from the other day on the school forum." He was talking about the pictures he took in the bathroom after he cut my bra strap. I shoved him. "Go ahead. I don't care." 8 I didn't care what other people thought of me. And in the end, Caleb never posted the pictures. But he wasn't the type to give up. A rumor started circulating that Leo and I were a couple. Then one morning, I walked into the classroom to find our names scrawled across the blackboard in huge letters, a giant heart drawn between them. The sight was met with a chorus of jeers and laughter. "Those two? Together?" "You've got to be kidding me." "Look, the lovebirds." My name became inextricably linked with Leo's. When a teacher called on me, someone would yell out Leo's name. During morning exercises, they would deliberately push me into him. "You know, I think he's actually starting to like you," Caleb said that night, crouching by my bed. "I saw him looking at you today. The tips of his ears were red." His hand closed around my throat, the pressure slowly increasing. "But he probably doesn't know..." His grip tightened, just enough to make my heart pound. "...that the girl he likes looks like this in front of me." I stared at him, my eyes burning with hatred. After a long, agonizing moment, his fingers loosened, stroking the side of my neck. Caleb always smiled so gently. But the words that came out of his mouth were pure poison. "You know something, Stella?" he whispered. "You were made for a collar." ... He was using an innocent boy to trample all over my dignity, to grind it into the dirt. I had told myself that if I was already in hell, I couldn't drag anyone else down with me. But it was too late. ... The next day, as I was being shoved against a wall, the contents of my backpack being dumped onto the floor, Leo suddenly rushed in and pulled me away. This was their usual routine. Accuse me of stealing money, then empty my bag to "prove" it. No one expected Leo, the timid, quiet boy, to intervene. Whistles and catcalls erupted behind us. Leo pulled me along, running blindly, as if he had no idea where he was going. I stared at the back of his head. His hair was getting long. He stumbled, and I almost went down with him. His glasses fell to the ground. I bent to pick them up and found myself looking directly into his eyes. ... He always hid behind a thick curtain of bangs. It was the first time I'd ever really seen his face. I didn't know what to say. I had never seen such beautiful eyes. A pale, smoky grey, so light they seemed translucent, but with an unnerving emptiness within. They were so striking that for a moment, I forgot to breathe. "You..." I finally managed, my voice barely a whisper. "You shouldn't have done that." I don't know if he understood what I meant. He just pressed his lips together and said nothing. When we got back to class, the room erupted in a storm of teasing. But after that day, Leo started being... nice to me. He seemed oblivious to the malicious taunts of the other students. He brought me breakfast. He secretly left candy in my desk. Every time he did something kind, every time he looked at me with those innocent, unknowing eyes, a fresh wave of guilt washed over me. Caleb had won again. No matter how I struggled, he always got what he wanted. Now, he was enjoying building me up with a fragile, beautiful illusion, just so he could be the one to shatter it. 9 Our parents were going on a business trip for a week. Which meant I would be alone in the house with Caleb. For seven days. My body trembled at the thought. Caleb, sitting next to me on the sofa, just lowered his eyes and smiled. The first night after they left, he blocked me at my bedroom door. The vast, empty house was unnervingly quiet, and a flicker of fear ignited in my chest. He leaned against the doorframe, tilting his head as he looked at me. "You know why they haven't been messing with you lately? Because Leo's been taking the hits for you." If the devil had a face, it would be Caleb's. "It's a shame you didn't get to see it. The way they kicked him against the lockers." "If you have a problem, take it out on me!" I lunged forward and grabbed the collar of his shirt. He simply reached up and slowly, gently, covered my hand with his. He must have felt the tremors running through my fingers, because he let out a low chuckle. "You haven't fallen for him too, have you?" I stared at him, grinding my teeth so hard I thought they would crack. "Caleb, why are you doing this to me?" With every step he took forward, I took one back, until my back was pressed against the cold, hard wall. "Well," he whispered, his face inches from mine. "Why don't you fight back?" His fingers closed around my wrist. He was like a demon, peeling back the layers of my soul, asking the one question I could never answer. Why didn't I fight back? I knew the reason. I had always known. It was because I... Something was clawing at the edges of my memory, a truth I had buried long ago. But in that instant, Caleb raised his other hand and gently stroked my hair. He leaned in, his smile disarmingly innocent. "Sleep with me," he murmured, "and I'll leave him alone. Deal?" Caleb was testing my limits, one by one. And in the end, he would make a shocking discovery. I didn't have any. ... Caleb's bed was bigger than mine. When he pulled me down onto the mattress beside him, it didn't feel cramped. And when he said sleep, he actually meant sleep. "You have to keep your promise," I said, my voice flat, staring at the empty floor. Moonlight filtered through the blinds, casting fractured, painful slivers of light across the room. "Leave Leo alone." He was lying behind me, closer than he had ever been. I could feel the heat of his body. His knuckles brushed against my shoulder blade. He let out a soft laugh and pulled me tighter against him. "Why are you so nice to him?" He waited a long time, but I didn't answer. He must have known I wouldn't. He toyed with a strand of my hair, then sighed, his breath warm against the back of my neck. His next words were so quiet, they were barely more than a whisper, a dreamlike murmur lost in the darkness. "To be honest, I'm a little jealous of him." ... 10 To his credit, Caleb was a man of his word. As twisted as it was to force his own sister to sleep in his bed, he kept his promise. He never laid a hand on Leo again. The bullying at school, for the most part, stopped. In the dead of night, I listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing, then slowly, carefully, I slipped his arm off me. I crept out of bed and made my way to his desk. There was something I needed to confirm. For the past few nights, after he fell asleep, I had been searching his room. I was sure he would have kept it somewhere. Finally, in the back of the third bookshelf, I found a small, wooden box with a combination lock. It looked old. I tried a few different number combinations, but none of them worked. I frowned, considering my options. Maybe I could sneak it out and pry it open. A cool, clear voice broke the silence behind me. "The combination is 0604. Her birthday." ...Caleb was standing right behind me, watching me. When he wasn't smiling, his face was a mask of cold, severe indifference. The moonlight poured into his eyes, making them look like polished, emotionless stones. I lowered my head and entered the code. The lock clicked open. Inside were a few trinkets, small mementos. I didn't bother trying to understand their meaning. I was looking for one thing. And then I found it. A photograph. I was right. All those years ago... Caleb's sister... It was my fault she died.
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