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STACEY

Ilove dancing in the dark.

When I’m surrounded by carnage, which is often, it’s peaceful – an escape. I enjoy mentally vanishing from existence, even if it’s only for a moment.

Sometimes, I close my eyes and block out everything as my body moves around the hoop, or as the silks wrap around my limbs while I hang mid-air. Usually, halfway through my routine, I’ll free flow, head lolling to the beat, imagining a silent audience that can’t take their eyes off me.

Music will play, the genre completely dependent on my mood. I’ll tell myself that anxiety and unnecessary voices don’t exist. That they’re nothing but void thoughts desperate to destroy my calm. As each chord strikes, the black tendrils around my heart will shrivel away.

There was a time when one person was able to make me ignore that side of myself. I helped him with his own darkness, and he made me feel alive, sustaining me with tender touches and words, stolen kisses and nights in his bed when no one knew. I was happy.

I thought I was safe. I thought I was free.

Until I wasn’t.

But the past is the past. It’s nothing a bit of music can’t temporarily fix.

“Spiracle” by Flower Face echoes around the studio I’ve been dancing in since I was a teen. Whenever this song plays, I think of him.

I remember the way I felt sitting on the sofa across from Lu. Nervous. On fire. Wishing I was brave enough to touch him. His hand was so close to my own, and I dared myself to take it, to feel his palm in mine, to know how soft it was, but I was terrified of his refusal.

He hated being touched – it would make him flinch and look as if he was in pain. Then his pinkie grazed mine under the blanket that we shared, eyes on the TV, and I fought a smile.

It was from then that it really started. It wasn’t a dare – it was real.

The studio is empty, like it always is after classes end. The colourful LED lights are dimmed, but sometimes, I turn them off completely. It’s relaxing, just closing my mind off from this world and being in my own – my axis shifts, and everything stops while I dance.

But in a few hours, Chris will pick me up, and it will all come crashing down – and I’ll remember my true reality.

The music cuts out, and I stop, gripping the hoop while I stay suspended upside down, one leg hooked over to keep me stable. I narrow my eyes at the screen of my phone – the text that’s popped up has interrupted my song and disconnected the Bluetooth.

I flip down onto the crash mat, tightening the bobble in my hair as I walk to the other side of the room, my bare feet slapping over the flooring. Leaning against the fully mirrored wall, I open the messages in our group chat.

Lu: My mum and Ewan just left. I think Kade and his friends are going out, so we’ll have the entire manor to ourselves for the party.

Ty: I’m still at my aunt’s house. But I’ll see you soon!

Her mum and stepdad Ewan are going to America for a few weeks, something about a meeting with her biological father’s therapist to possibly get him accepted time in public. But so far all his appeals have been declined.

I mean, I can’t see him ever being allowed time away from the institution. He’s terrifying. I spoke to him on the phone once while Lu hurried out of the bathroom, and his voice alone sent shivers through my body. He knew my name and warned me not to hurt his son like I was the monster.

His voice was so deep and dangerous, I think I’d honestly pass out if I ever met him. As much as his son resembles him, I’d run in the opposite direction of Tobias Mitchell.

He’s a diagnosed psychopath. A killer.

After replying to say I can’t wait, I quickly send Chris a text telling him not to bother picking me up. I have the dress with me I’m wearing tonight, and I can grab a shower at Lu’s too.

My stepbrother will definitely be pissed, but he’s always mad at me.

A few days ago, after Kade dropped me off, I begged him to release me and lied that it was Luciella who drove me home.

I have concealer hiding the faint bruises he left on me.

I connect my Bluetooth back up to the speakers that surround the hall, restart the song and take in my sweaty appearance in the mirror.

When my gaze drops to my chest, I stare the small scar on my sternum, purple and deep. As much as my breasts hide it, it’s there. That was why Chris ripped a key against my skin – to deter others from touching what he thinks is his.

He made me lie to Nora and say I did it to myself, and she believed me. She’d wanted me to seek help from a therapist, thinking I was harming myself.

No. Your son is just a fucking monster, Nora.

I run my fingers up the titanium poles. There are seven of them spaced out throughout the hall, a hoop in the middle hanging from the ceiling and deep-pink silks at the back. In the next room, there’s a huge dance area where the kids go.

Tylar’s family owns the building, and she’s had plans to expand into somewhere bigger for the last year but has been caught up in her studies while her parents work on a project in Rome.

I wrap the silk around my wrist, getting a good grip of the material, then do the same with my foot and pull myself onto it. Flipping myself upside down, the material twists around my thighs, holding my weight safely as I quickly fix my hair.

Then I let the music take me on a lyrical adventure, using my flexibility and rhythm to map out the perfect choreography I could use at the Festival of Fright Night at Halloween.

By the time the song finishes, sweat is layering my skin, and my limbs ache from the constant pulling and tugging on the silks. I flip myself upside down once again, settling in a full straddle, and pull off my top to reveal my sports bra.

But when the material at the hook tangles and I start to spin slowly, my entire body freezes – there’s someone watching me.

“Chris!” I snap. “You aren’t allowed in here!”

My stepbrother shrugs as I untangle myself and drop to the floor.

I narrow my eyes at him. “What the hell are you doing?”

He smirks, making me step backwards as he takes one step forward, eyes dropping to my chest. “You know I like to watch you.”

Uncomfortable shivers rush through me, bile rising in my throat. “I told you I’m going to my friend’s house.”

“I’ll drive you. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“I don’t need you to drive me.”

Chris lifts his hand to me, and I instinctively flinch away before he can touch the strands of hair that have fallen into my face.

“You’ll do as I say, little sister,” he says. “Unless you want me to lock you in my room again. Maybe I’ll chain you to my bed this time?”

I blanch. “No.”

He smiles. “I’m driving you.”

I gulp and nod, knowing I won’t win with Chris.

I turn my back on him and head for the small changing room, throwing on my top as I go. I still feel far too exposed to be around him. After putting on my socks and shoes and wiping my face with a towel, I yank on a hoodie then pull my coat up my arms.

He’s going to try to make me cancel tonight, but he can shove it.

Not only would giving in to him make him feel powerful, but Lu would also hunt me down. This has been planned for ages, a secondary celebration of her twenty-first.

A knock at the door makes me jump out of my skin. “Hurry the fuck up before I get you ready myself.”

I scoff silently, shaking my head as I slide the strap of my bag on my shoulder, ignoring him when I swing the door open and try to walk by.

He catches my wrist and hauls me back, pinning me against his chest and lowering his mouth to my ear. “Drop the attitude.” Chris turns my rigid body to face him, caressing my arms. “I’ve been good, Stacey. Stop attempting to piss me off by acting like a child.”

“I haven’t—”

His rough, unwanted hands silence me as they travel up to my shoulders in a firm stroke. His thumbs run across the faint bruising there before cupping each side of my neck. “What have I told you about talking back to me? Do you want to make me angry?”

He sucks his bottom lip, chewing on it as his eyes search my face, waiting for a snarky retort so he has a reason to throw me onto the floor or bite my cheek.

My back hits the wall, causing the mirrors along it to ripple. His body crushes mine, and I grit my teeth to fight the revulsion, fists clenching by my sides.

“So pretty and defiant,” he mutters, nudging his knee between my legs to force them open. His palm travels up my side. “Do you remember what happens to bad little girls like you?”

“Get the fuck off me, Chris,” I warn him, shoving his chest but failing to move him away from me.

He grins. The bastard loves when I get mad. I feel his excitement against me, and I swallow the strangling lump that’s building in my throat.

Chris has been like this with me since I joined the family years ago. I tried to tell my dad when he’d barged into my shower the day we moved in and forced his mouth on mine. My dad refused to listen when I told him that the boy four years older than me had watched me undress on numerous occasions when I was only fourteen.

Nope. I was apparently a teenage troublemaker, rebelling from the death of my mother.

Chris has kissed me on numerous occasions, mid-argument. But every time, my lips have clamped shut – hard enough to cause me pain – to deny the tongue trying to pry its way into my mouth as I fought back.

As far as I’m aware, we’ve never fucked. But he’s drugged me. Hit me. Made my life hell. I tried to run once, but it only made things worse. He became more violent.

It feels like there’s no escaping someone as monstrous as Chris Fields, but one day, when I figure out a good-enough plan, I will.

His lips part; he’s probably about to describe how loud I’ll scream for him, but a noise behind us stops his words.

Thankfully, the studio door opens, causing him to jerk away, and I can finally breathe.

Tylar stands in the entryway, mouth open, brows knitting together, confused as she looks between the two of us. “Um… Who are you?” she asks Chris, and I close my eyes, hoping he doesn’t introduce himself correctly.

“Members only.” She points to the sign on the wall then stands aside, opening the door wider, silently telling him to fuck off.

I want to hug her.

“Of course,” Chris replies, glancing at me, spinning his car keys on his finger and licking his lips.

He leans in and whispers against my ear, “Just wait until you get home, little sister.”

I stare at him, waiting for him to leave.

Before Chris turns away from me, his smile drops. “Behave.”

Tylar raises a brow at me as soon as he’s gone. “Who the hell was that?”

My own worst nightmare. The stepbrother you don’t know about.

For my own sake, and my friends’, I’ve kept his identity a mystery and do my best to make sure it stays that way.

My older stepbrother Kyle is an angel. He loves me like a brother should. But then there’s Christopher…

“Just some guy,” I lie through my teeth, turning the speakers off and switching the main lights on to kill the colour-changing glow. “I thought you were at your aunt’s place?”

“My mum wants me to deposit money into the bank,” she tells me, pulling open a small cupboard in the corner of the hall and unlocking the safe. She counts notes, about eight hundred pounds’ worth, then shoves the pile into her purse.

“He wasn’t that Bryan guy, was he? I remember you describing him differently. That one was hot. I’m digging the smile and the shaggy blonde hair. Plus, he’s tall.”

I huff, scrunching my nose at her calling Chris hot. He’s nothing but vulgar in my eyes. “No. That wasn’t him.”

“Well, whoever he was, please keep it in the bedroom,” she says, tilting her head towards the door. “Come on. I can give you a lift to Lu’s.”

The drive is filled with Tylar reeling off the rules of the studio, and I stare out of the window as I offer sounds of acknowledgment. But when she tells me that a house is currently on fire in Branchton, I look at her with pinched brows. No casualties, but apparently the homeowner was beaten to a pulp.

The name hasn’t been released.

My phone vibrates, and when I look down, I roll my eyes. The usual threat. One that used to make my skin crawl and dread returning home. But now it’s just routine from him.

DoNotAnswer: Be a good girl tonight.

I snarl at the screen, my fingers moving before I can stop them.

Me: Leave me alone.

The drive to Luciella’s takes us through to the loch, and the trees surround the road. We stop at the electric gates of the extravagant manor I still find breathtaking. Tylar tells me she’ll catch up in a few hours before driving off.

Once she’s gone, I ring the bell; the two dogs start barking like crazy, which has me smiling.

As soon as the door swings open, my smile drops, and I’m trapped under Kade’s dark scowl. It’s full of so much hatred and betrayal. If I’m not mistaken, he’d rather see me beneath the wheel of his motorbike than standing on his doorstep.

His two Dobermanns, Milo and Hopper, who are usually away with him at university, sniff at my legs and hands, both growing excited when they recognise my scent.

Instead of cowering with my tail between my legs or backing down from their owner, I lower myself to fuss over the dogs while I level him with a look just as grim.

He breaks eye contact first, turning his large muscular back to me as he whistles for the dogs to follow. He’s wearing a hoodie, a backwards cap to hide his messy hair and has a beer bottle in his hand. I’m guessing he’s not going out tonight.

I roll my eyes and mumble, “Great,” under my breath as I close the door behind me.

This will be fun.