Page 26 of Use Me Up

I get the blanket back up over my shoulders. “Barking is the shittiest, dirtiest trick—”

“Oh, because you play fair, Ellis?” His voice cracks.

Shit, is he going to cry? Well, then. I straighten up, staring him down.

His lower lip trembles. He looks away from me, shaking his head.

And at this moment, Hannah comes down the stairs, and she is only wearing one of my t-shirts.

I grin at her, at her bare legs and bare feet. She’s adorable and just-fucked, and I feel a surge of something for her, which… that’s not supposed to be happening. I didn’t think that could happen.

It’s her, it’s only her. It’s always been her, and it will always be her.

Calliope.

“Hannah,” says Andrew, and he’s dejected.

“What are you guys doing?” she says. She looks at me. “Did you hit my brother?”

“He hit me first,” I mutter, aware that I sound like a middle schooler.

“Hannah,” says Andrew, “let’s go and talk somewhere, you and me. Mom sent me to get you. She says, and I agree, that whatever he did or said, it might not fit the legal definition of rape or assault or whatever, but it’s still coercion, and you’re a victim, and—”

“I’m fine,” says Hannah.

“She’s fine,” I speak up. “She likes it.”

Hannah’s gaze flits down, embarrassed, ashamed, I don’t know.

I’m being horrible to that poor girl. She doesn’t deserve it.

But she’s always seen me incorrectly, seen me through these rose-colored glasses, as if there was some part of me that was still tethered to my humanity. She doesn’t understand what I am, Hannah doesn’t.

Andrew gets it. Andrew knows. He’s disgusted with me, has been for a long time.

And Calliope sees it and accepts and loves it. She’s not exactly perfect herself. But I realized a long time ago that she didn’t want to be mired in my darkness.

Andrew is light and bright and sweet and she wants that.

I tried to let her have it. I tried to go away and let her have her happy ending. I really did.

Maybe, though, it’s not fair that she gets to be happy, and I have to be miserable. Maybe, though, I just want to share a little of my own fucking misery.

“Hannah is staying here, with me,” I say.

She nods, meeting her brother’s gaze. “I’m staying.”

Andrew looks back and forth between us. “Come on, Hannah, Mom sent me to bring you home. You know if I don’t bring you, she’s going to be impossible. You need to come with me.”

Hannah sighs. “I’ll send Mom a text. He’s not assaulting me or coercing me, okay? He’s been very careful to make sure that I’m doing all right throughout all of it, and he’s, um…” She looks up at me. “I like him.”

“Well, he doesn’t like you, Hannah,” says Andrew.

“Sure, I do,” I say and I come over and open the blanket and pull her into it with me, and she’s surprised and she lets out a little giggle and I bend down and put my mouth on hers, kissing her for Andrew’s benefit.

But I do like kissing her, I have to admit. She’s really eager and pliant, open to anything I want to do with her, and her little body presses into me now, and she’s soft and pleasant. She’s… nice.

Nothing like Calliope, really, who isn’t nice, who’s never been nice, who’s always been some kind of siren, singing me to my doom.