Hating, Hurting: A Stepbrother Bully Story

not to show that my back and hips were still aching. I couldn't imagine what he must feel, knowing his son had kidnapped and assaulted me, but he had to know I didn't place any blame at him, not at all. If Hans had done all that, Marcus had to realize too, that it was his other son who had saved me. My mother had told me the story as gently and as succinctly as possible, and I knew if she could spare me some details, she would have. I wondered if Marcus had just come back from the cemetery, but felt it imprudent to ask. I was saddened by Hans' premature death, by the monsters he must have faced alone in his mind that drove him to carry out such unspeakable acts. I was saddened by the burden the family had to face, even though I didn't grasp it fully. But I was also glad it was over, that I was safe, that the girls in Gray Lake had one less predator to worry about.

There was a heavy, almost tangible silence as we drove back to the house, and I wondered if it was because they couldn't discuss anything with me in the car. I glanced at my mother, noting the shadows under her eyes, and wondered if I wasn't wholly the reason behind them. It will sort itself out soon, I thought as a wave of exhaustion threatened to pull me under. It had to, for my mom's sake.

***

A few days of home rest did wonders for my body and state of mind. Susan fussed over me, her wonderful cooking helping put color back into my cheeks, even though she herself looked like she needed fussing over. Her pale skin seemed more sallow, and her cheeks more hollowed out. I had caught her crying in the kitchen when she thought she was alone once. But it was the general atmosphere in the house, expected in the wake of a death, but with an extra air of something else – guilt. A dirty, oily emotion difficult to expunge, hanging like a cloud over everyone and everything. His pictures were everywhere in the mansion, showcasing in each one that beautiful white smile, clear brown eyes, the boyish ease he had that won everyone over. Hiding, underneath it, someone desperately in need of help, whose calculated moves were never anticipated.

I found Cole one day sitting in the movie room by himself, staring at the blank space in front of him, a Fast and Furious movie playing, soundless, in the background. He looked so forlorn, his eyes swollen and shuttered, that I hesitated before joining him. Without a word, I sat down and took his hand, and he squeezed it without turning. We sat there in silence, images flashing before our eyes, and I wondered what was running through Cole's mind. I knew he was grieving Hans, knew it would take a long time to move past what had happened, maybe forever. I didn't have siblings, let alone a twin, one I was close to and spent most of my time with, so I didn't know what he was going through. I imagined it akin to losing my mom, but it was something inconceivable to me. I squeezed his hand tighter. I stayed quiet, the silence enveloping us, until I felt his arms go around me, me hugging him back, and soon, felt his head drop onto my shoulders, and tears begin to wet my shirt. He drew in shuddering breaths as I rubbed his back, waiting for his sobs to stop.

"I didn't - I didn't see it coming," he said through pained gasps. I continued rubbing his back, willing him to unload everything, to reassure him I wasn't going anywhere. "I should've. Hans - he was always two steps ahead of me. But I should have known he would escape that place and do something like this." His sobs started up again, and it wrecked my heart to hear the guilt lacing every word, every low, wounded cry.

"It's not your fault, Cole," l whispered.

"The thing is - I sort of knew. Knew that, deep down, Hans hated everything I got close to. That's why it didn't surprise me when he tried to hurt Monica. A little late, but nothing I hadn't expected before." he looked at me guiltily. "I guess he saw how much time I was beginning to spend with you." His eyes, thick-lashed and brimming with tears, looked at me with both despair and a sort of pleading, maybe for me to understand, maybe for forgiveness, so that I brought my arms around him to hug him again.

"Don't blame yourself, Cole." I knew it wouldn't be easy, getting him to believe Hans' actions were his alone, that Cole wasn't expected to look over his shoulder like that.

"Cole, who's Nathan?"

He startled in my arms. "You heard." It wasn't a question.

"Hans kept on saying his name." I hesitated before continuing. "He...he said, you...killed him." I wished, right at that moment, that I could turn back time, so that those horrible words didn’t come out of my mouth the way they did.

But all Cole did was release a long, heavy sigh. "He's our brother. When - when Hans and I were four, Nathan, who was two at the time -" he took a deep breath as he pulled away and looked straight into my eyes, "Nathan and I were in the bathtub. We were playing around in the water. Nathan, he - he was the horse, and I climbed onto him." His eyes shone in terror as he looked into the distance. "By the time I got off him, he was -" and he shuddered before continuing, "he was blue. He wasn't moving. I hadn't noticed him struggling, Elle, I hadn't realized my brother had drowned..."

Words failed me as the sheer horror of his words sunk in. What he had to be going through, thinking both siblings had died in his hands...

"No," I replied vehemently. "That