I open my eyes and she’s above me.
Naked. Pale skin catching light in a way that doesn’t make sense. Black hair falling around her face in curtains that frame those white, pupilless eyes staring down at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
I’m naked too. Flat on my back in my bed, and Nicole is straddling me, her thighs pressed against my hips, her hands braced on my chest.
The cold of her skin feels incredible. Not uncomfortable, not the kind of cold that makes you pull away. This is different. Soothing, like slipping into cool water on a hot day. Every point where her body touches mine hums with it.
She’s moving. Riding me with a frantic, desperate energy that borders on violent. Her hips roll and grind, taking me deep with each movement, and the way she’s looking at me makes heat coil tight in my stomach.
Her breasts bounce with the motion, full and heavy, and I can’t stop watching the way her body moves. The flex of her thighs. The arch of her spine. The way her mouth falls open on a gasp.
I reach up and cup the back of her neck, pulling her down to me.
Her mouth crashes against mine immediately, and it’s not a kiss so much as an assault. She devours me. Her tongue pushes past my lips, demanding, taking, claiming every inch of my mouth like she owns it.
I kiss her back slower, softer. My hand slides up into her hair, fingers threading through the black strands.
She growls against my mouth. The sound vibrates through my chest, primal and possessive.
“Mine,” she snarls between kisses.
Her teeth catch my bottom lip, not quite biting but close. Her nails dig into my chest hard enough that I feel the sting.
“Mine,” she says again, louder this time. “MINE!”
I try to pull her closer, to wrap my arms around her and hold her, but she pushes back against my chest. Her hands pin me down, her weight pressing me into the mattress.
She’s riding me harder now, faster, like she’s trying to consume me from the inside out. Her white eyes never leave mine, burning with an intensity that should terrify me but doesn’t.
I slide my hands down her sides, tracing the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips. My touch stays light, reverent, even as she takes me with this manic hunger.
“Nicole,” I breathe out.
“You belong to me, Austin.”
She speaks raw and breathless, each word punctuated by the roll of her hips.
I nod, my hands moving up to cup her breasts. The weight of them fills my palms perfectly, and the cold of her skin sends shivers through my fingers. I slide my thumbs over her nipples, circling them slowly before giving one a gentle squeeze.
Her body arches up immediately, spine curving like a bow. A moan tears from her throat, loud and unrestrained.
“Yes!” she gasps. “You feel so good, Austin. So good.”
Her movements become even more frantic, her hips grinding down against me with renewed desperation. Then she starts laughing.
It begins soft, almost breathless, like she can’t quite believe what’s happening. But it builds. The sound grows louder, deeper, taking on an edge that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Her smile stretches wider. Too wide. The corners of her mouth pull back past where they should stop, revealing teeth that seem too white, too sharp in the dim light.
I don’t care.
She’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
The laugh continues, echoing off the walls, filling the room with a jagged sound that rattles right down into my ribs. Her white eyes burn into mine, possessive and wild and completely unhinged.
“Nicole,” I manage to strain out. “I’m about to cum.”
Her eyes widen, and the laugh cuts off abruptly. Her movements become desperate, erratic, like she’s chasing the same edge I’m teetering on.
“Yes,” she hisses. “Yes, give it to me. Give me everything.”
Her nails rake down my chest, leaving trails of sensation that blur the line between pleasure and pain.
I try to hold on, to make this last, but her rhythm is relentless. The way she’s looking at me, the possessive hunger in those white eyes, the feeling of her body taking mine so completely.
My hands grip her hips hard enough to leave marks if she were solid enough to bruise. The tension coils tighter and tighter until it snaps.
I’m ripped out of the dream mid-orgasm by a loud noise.
My eyes snap open to the ceiling of my bedroom, my body convulsing as I cum hard into my underwear. The sensation crashes through me in waves, relentless and overwhelming, and I can’t stop the groan tearing from my throat.
The banging at the front door registers a second later. A thundering, insistent pounding mixed with the shrill buzz of the doorbell being pressed over and over.
I’m still coming, my hips jerking involuntarily against nothing, and I can almost feel the phantom sensation of Nicole’s body around me. Like it was just here a moment ago. The cold. The pressure. The way she was looking at me like I was hers.
The dream collapses completely, and I’m just lying here in my bed alone with cum soaking through my boxers while someone hammers on my front door like they’re trying to break it down.
The doorbell rings again. Three times in rapid succession.
I push myself up on shaky arms, my breath ragged. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. The wet fabric of my underwear clings uncomfortably to my skin.
The banging continues. Whoever’s out there isn’t giving up.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand, my knees threatening to buckle. My whole body feels wrung out, hypersensitive. I grab the first pair of sweatpants I can find on the floor and yank them on over my soaked boxers.
“I’m coming!” I shout toward the door, my voice still rough.
The pounding doesn’t stop.
I stumble down the hallway, one hand dragging along the wall for balance. My legs feel like they’re made of water. The doorbell rings again, and I wince at the sound.
“Jesus Christ, I said I’m coming!”
I reach the front door and fumble with the lock until it opens.
Maria is standing on my porch.
My sister’s brown eyes are wide, her face pale and tight with worry. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail like she got dressed in a hurry. She’s wearing sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, and her car is parked at the curb with the driver’s side door still hanging open.
I feel the presence at my back before I hear the voice.
“Another bitch? Really?”
Nicole’s tone drips with annoyance, flat and cold in that way she gets when she’s trying not to yell. I don’t turn around. I don’t acknowledge her at all. My eyes stay locked on Maria.
“You little fucking shit!” Maria’s voice cracks on the last word, and she looks livid. Red splotches spread across her cheeks, chasing away the pale shock. She lunges forward and wraps her arms around me so tight I can barely breathe.
“Why is this one hugging you!”
Nicole’s voice rises behind me, closer. I can feel the cold radiating off her like she’s pressed right up against my back. I keep my focus on Maria, my arms coming up automatically to return the hug.
“I thought you were dead, you fucking idiot!” Maria mutters into my shoulder. Her grip tightens even more, and I realize she’s shaking. From fear that’s turning into fury because she knows I’m alive.
She pulls back abruptly, her hands moving to my shoulders. Her fingers dig in hard enough to hurt.
“YOU HAVEN’T ANSWERED ANY OF MY PHONE CALLS AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN GIVE ME YOUR NEW ADDRESS! I HAD TO WRING IT OUT OF YOUR GOD DAMN THERAPIST, YOU FUCKING MORON!”
“Oh shit, she’s pissed.” Nicole speaks from directly behind my left ear, and I hear the shift in her tone. Less angry, more intrigued. Like she’s watching a show.
I open my mouth to respond to Maria, but she cuts ahead.
“Do you have any idea how many times I called you? And you couldn’t pick up once? Not once?”
“I was…”
“And then when I finally break down and call Tiffany, because I’m convinced you’re lying in a ditch somewhere having a seizure, she tells me you’ve been fine. That you had an appointment yesterday. YESTERDAY!”
The guilt hits me like a physical weight. Moisture shines in Maria’s eyes, and I can see the exhaustion written across every line of her face. She hasn’t been sleeping.
“I’m sorry,” I manage.
“Sorry?” Her laugh lands sharp and bitter. “You’re sorry? I raised you, Austin. I’ve been there for every episode, every hospitalization, every time you couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t. And you just move out and cut me off like I’m nothing?”
“That’s not…”
“Then what is it?” She breaks down crying, tears streaming down her face even as her voice stays loud and angry. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you decided YOUR FUCKING SISTER wasn’t worth keeping in the loop anymore!”
“Ohhhhhhhhh.” Nicole stretches the syllable out, and I can practically hear the pieces clicking into place in her head.
“Maria, I just thought you could finally be happy. That you could stop worrying about me and live your life for once.” I keep my voice down. “I told you I was moving…”
“You told me you were moving!” Maria cuts me off, her voice cracking. “You didn’t tell me you were going to disappear! There’s a difference, Austin!”
Her hands are still gripping my shoulders.
“You gave up your twenties for me,” I say, the confession raw in my throat. “You were supposed to be figuring out who you were, dating and having fun. Instead, you were making sure I took my meds and didn’t hurt myself. I didn’t want to take anything else from you.”
Maria’s hands drop from my shoulders. She parts her lips, stunned, searching for words that won't form. The anger draining from her face leaves behind hurt so naked it makes my chest ache.
“Take anything else?” She whispers the words, small and shaken. “Austin, you’re not taking anything from me. You’re my brother.”
“But don’t you ever regret it?” I ask. “Not getting to live a normal life?”
Maria flushes deep red. “Austin, just shut the fuck up.”
“You’re thirty-nine, Maria. You deserve to be your own priority. Not me.”
She stares at me like I just slapped her. She falters, stunned into silence before she can piece a response together.
“Wow, there’s... there’s so much to take in here.” Nicole’s voice comes from behind me, her tone awkward and uncomfortable. “I think I’ll just... leave you two alone.”
The presence at my back vanishes immediately.
I gesture toward the couch in the living room. “Come sit down.”
Maria follows me inside. We sit on the couch, and she immediately drops her head into one hand, her fingers pressing against her brow.
“Austin, I am one of my main priorities,” she says, calmer but still strained. “You aren’t hard to deal with. You weren’t a bother at all. For God’s sake!”
She stops. Takes a breath. Then another. I watch her force herself to calm down, the tension in her shoulders slowly releasing.
Her head lifts, and she looks around the living room. Her eyes move from the bare walls to the radiator to the CD player sitting against the wall.
“Damn. This place is bigger than I was expecting.”
“Thanks.”
“It must cost a fortune to rent.”
“I manage,” I reply automatically. I don’t mention the four hundred dollars. I definitely leave out that it’s allegedly haunted. Maria doesn’t need to know any of that.
She nods slowly, her eyes still scanning the room. Then she turns back to me.
“Have you had any seizures?”
“No. Not since I got off the antipsychotics.”
“How are the voices?”
“Manageable.” I keep my tone neutral, matter-of-fact. I don’t mention Nicole whispering in my ear at the door, the AIM messages, the dream I just woke up from, or the way she screamed loud enough to scatter birds when Jessica touched my arm.
Maria’s eyes search my face like she’s trying to read between the lines. Looking for the signs she’s trained herself to recognize over the years.
“Manageable,” she repeats. “That’s good.”
The silence stretches between us. I can hear the hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen, the distant sound of a car passing outside. Maria’s hands rest in her lap now, fingers interlaced.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” I say finally. “I should’ve answered your calls.”
“Yeah. You should have.” Her tone softens, the anger burned out and leaving only exhaustion behind. “I know you’re trying to give me space or whatever. But Austin, you can’t just disappear on me like that. I need to know you’re okay.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” She leans forward slightly, her brown eyes locking onto mine. “Because it really doesn’t feel like you do.”
The guilt twists deeper. I look down at my hands, at the way my fingers are knotted together.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. The words feel hollow, inadequate.
Maria’s eyes drift away from mine, scanning the room again. Her gaze lingers on the bare walls, the empty corners, the complete absence of any real signs of life beyond the basics.
“I almost expected you to be shacked up with some woman,” she says, and there’s an attempt at lightness in her tone that doesn’t quite land.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “No. I wish.”
“Someday,” Maria says, and her tone softens into that older-sister cadence I’ve heard a thousand times. “I promise you’ll meet someone who isn’t afraid of your disorder.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
The silence settles between us again, but it’s less sharp now. More tired than angry.
“What about you?” I ask. “When are you finally going to get a husband?”
Maria scoffs, and a genuine smile tugs at her mouth for the first time since she showed up. “Well, once I meet a man who won’t ghost me.”
She points directly at me, her finger jabbing the air between us.
“Now even my own brother is pulling that shit on me!”
“Sorry...” I rub the back of my neck, blurting it out before I can stop myself. “Maybe you should try women?”
“Fuck off.”