Dear Rosey,
I wish we could forget that any of that ever happened and just be normal stepsisters for once. You see I think I really need a sister, someone who can talk to me when I am feeling like this. Writing it down helps, but I would still like to talk to someone, anyone.
I am lonely.
I’ll admit I was a little surprised when you didn’t immediately join Blythe and her group of imbeciles. You would fit right in. The fact that you didn’t join means there might be hope for you yet. Have I ever told you how cute you look when you see something you don’t like? Your nose scrunches up just slightly and your eyes turn cold and steely not to mention your pouty lip. I wish I could look that cute when I am disgusted, maybe then I wouldn’t be such a loser.
Blythe is still her usually snobby self, I should have known it would have been too much to hope she might have changed in my absence. Well, she may not have changed but I did. I am done with her petty games. I will be the bigger person. At least I’ll try to be, but she just makes it so hard.
You and I don’t have any classes together, unfortunately. But we do have the same lunch period so I am going to try and build a bridge of peace. I don’t want our relationship to always be this tense. I want us to just forget it and be normal.
Your mom has noticed how distant we are from each other, I think she is worried we won’t get along. She tried to be a good stepmom and give me some “pointers”. Honestly, it was super awkward and painful. This morning she was all like,
“I know this is sudden, but you and I can get along. We can be like girlfriends just talk to me whenever you want. I am always going to be here.” There was a super awkward silence after.
When I offered to drive you to school with me, you said no thanks and opted to take the bus. That felt like a punch to the gut, being as you thought I was worse than the school bus.
“She’ll warm up to you, she is just having a hard time adjusting. If you want her to warm up a little faster you should call her Rosey, everyone calls her Rosey.” Your mom said.
Rosey, I like it. It suits you. But trying to get you to warm up to me... well easier said than done. Especially when I am the who can’t forget it. I can’t forget how your lips felt against my own, how your hands felt on my skin, the warmth of your breath.
I wish I could forget.
Everyone is gawking at you. Not only are you the new girl, but you’re smoking hot. They already figured out that you are my new stepsister, thanks to Blythe and her connection to the front desk lady. Still, I wish they didn’t know so that way maybe you and I could… No! I don’t want that, I swear! I want to be normal. I want things to be normal between us. I want to forget about everything and start over, can we do that?
“Earth to Zara.” Blythe waved her hand in front of my face.
She is pestering me at lunch, I tried to sit with you, but your table is already full.
“What do you want Blythe?” I snap at her.
“I see you staring at your new sis, I just wanted to know what kind of person she is.”
Blythe was alone, her usual posy gone. I knew why she was here, she wanted to know why you rejected her offer of friendship. She wanted to know if I told you how horrible she is, or if you are just a reserved person.
“Go away Blythe before you get me in trouble.” I ignored her and picked at my food.
“You get yourself in trouble.”
“You start it!”
“You don’t always have to finish it!” She yelled back.
Things were already getting ugly between us and it was only my first day back. Then the worst thing that could possibly happen, happened.
You see I carry my diary with me everywhere I go in case something happens that I immediately want to write down. My therapist says it will help keep me from having thoughts of retaliation. Well, Blythe saw that it was sticking out of my bag and she took it. I swear I died and came back to life for like a split second.
“Give that back!” I demanded.
I got up and chased her as she laughed and taunted me with it. By then we had drawn attention, by then you saw just how much of a loser I am. I was no brave girl who took what she wanted and gave nothing in return. I am a loser who is constantly playing catch up.
It was when Blythe opened it to where I had my bookmark that I cursed myself for ever writing what we did down in detail. I wished she would just die where she stood. The bookmark was there because I kept rereading that part wondering if what really happened, happened.
I slammed Blythe against the wall and tried to take it from her. She escaped and ran into the girl’s bathroom. I wasn’t fast enough to catch her before she locked herself in a stall.
“Please, don’t read that,” I begged.
That’s right I begged. I have never in my whole life begged Blythe for mercy. I banged on the stall door and when I couldn’t take it anymore I got on my hands and knees and crawled under to get in. She was already at the bottom of the page.
She closed the book and looked at me with wide eyes. I was catching my breath and just standing there looking defeated. She read about what I did, we did, she knows. By then tears were streaming down my face there was no getting out of this humiliation, or so I thought.
I marched over to her and snatched the book away. Neither of us said anything, I wish I could die before she told anyone. I want to die. Of all the people to find out, why did it have to be her?
“Girls are you in here?” A professor called, they were looking for us.
I wiped my tears and made my way to the stall door, Blythe caught my shoulder and stopped me. She put a finger to her lips which told me to be quiet. I just looked at her in confusion. When no one responded the professor left to keep searching for us. I am sure they were worried things were going to get ugly again.
“Please don’t tell, I’ll do anything,” I begged Blythe when we were once again alone.
“Anything?” She teased.
“Please, I swear, if you want me to strip naked in front of the whole school I will. Just don’t tell anyone what you just read.”
“Zara, Zara, Zara.” She shook her head at me.
“I’ll admit I never took you as the spontaneous type, let alone thought you were gay.”
“Blythe please, I’m begging, don’t do this. I’ll do whatever you want, I promise.”
“Whatever I want?” she pretended to ponder.
“Yes, please.”
“Okay.” She had this devious smile spread across her lips I knew whatever was coming next wasn’t going to be pretty.
“W-What do you want?” I took a shaky breath.
By then my tears were falling again.
“I want you to be my slave, you have to do whatever I say and want. You’re my bitch now. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“As my first order, I want you to kiss me.” She shrugged like it was no big deal.
“What? Kiss you?”
“Did I stutter?”
I didn’t get it at first, but I have come to the conclusion that Blythe is going to use me as her experimental toy to experiment with her own sexuality. Blythe wants to see if she might be into girls. That is the only logical explanation I can think of.
Of course, kissing someone you hate with all of your heart is very, very hard. I want to scream at her, to hit her. Most of all I wanted to kill her, which was a scary thought because I didn’t know I had that kind of anger inside of me. Okay, that is a lie.
“Well?” she crossed her arms.
I nodded and wiped my tears. I was going to be her bitch if that’s what it took to spare you the humiliation of that day. I will protect you from Blythe and all of her horribleness, I promise Rose I won’t let her filthy hands touch you.
So, I put my big girl panties on and I kissed her.
If I pretended it was you, it wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was actually really good. I may have been kissing Blythe, but I was thinking of your lips, your eyes, your breath. Not of Blythe’s strawberry glossed lips, or her almond colored hair, or how warm her entire body was pressed against mine. She smelt like vanilla, I hate vanilla now. I hate its smell, its taste, its color. I hate it.
I pressed my lips lightly against hers, she is the one who deepened the kiss first. She pushed me roughly against the wall, I hit my head, then she stuck her tongue in my mouth. I wanted to gag. It was horrible.
I dropped my journal on the floor to try and push her off of me, she was getting really rough. She had her hands up my shirt and was biting my lip. Her mouth tasted like a Frappuccino. I’ll never be able to look at Frappuccino’s the same ever again.
“Stop,” I grunted as she squeezed my chest.
“Shut up and take it.” She snapped.
Honestly, now that I look back this sounds like a bad plot to fanfiction or a porn movie or something. I don’t know what is more concerning the fact that Blythe was enjoying that she was basically raping me, or the fact that Blythe loved the idea that I was going to be her slave.
Honestly, I didn’t know she was this twisted, and I thought I had issues. She might need counseling more than I do. I mean these have to be some seriously deep seeded issues, right? You don’t just wake up one day and decide I am going to make someone my plaything. If I didn’t know better I’d say she had been thinking about doing those horrible things to me for a long time, it was like she was living out a fantasy. A sick twisted fantasy.
She bit my lip so hard she drew blood. I had enough and pushed her so hard she had to stumble back to catch herself before she could fall. I had to cover my mouth to stop blood from getting all over me. We were both trying to catch our breath. I didn’t realize how long we were in there until the bell for class rang.
“Tell anyone about this and I’ll tell your little secret.” She threatened me before straightening herself out and leaving.
I waited a couple of minutes before I left, grabbing a paper towel to cover my bloody lip. I was pulled aside by a professor who demanded I tell him what happened, he noticed my bloody lip.
“Nothing, I just accidentally bit my lip.” I lied.
“Zara please, we both know that isn’t what happened.”
“Look I just got back the last thing I want is to be suspended again. Nothing happened okay. I didn’t touch a perfect little hair on her pretty little head, honest. Please just drop it.” Then I grabbed my school bag and walked away.
Of course, rumors quickly circulated that Blythe “taught me a lesson.” No one knows just how twisted she is on the inside. I am seriously concerned she is like a psychotic freak. I mean this is just day one, who knows what else she has in store for me, or how long this will go. She didn’t exactly give me a date for when I can have my freedom back.
I wish I wasn’t such a loser, I wish I hadn’t listened to my therapist and wrote down in detail what happened. I wish you would look at me for more than a second. I wish you knew then what I did to protect you. But more than anything I wish Blythe Mathews was dead.
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