Chapter 1: Genesis

April 2014

“Honestly, y’know, I don’t feel safe in the classroom with her. She just gives me the creeps,” Emmie whispered, from two rows in front—just loud enough that Lilith could overhear, but Mr. Richards couldn’t.

“ ... What?” giggled Julia. “Are you saying you’re scared of the retard?”

“Well, look at her!” Emmie hissed back. “I’m convinced she’s gonna shoot up the school or some shit! She looks so dead inside!” She swept her perfect blonde hair over her shoulder.

Lilith tried her best to hide from her bullies, but in class, there was no avoiding them. The best she could do was ignore them completely.

“Right,” Julia said. “She definitely has that psycho vibe to her. They should check her locker.”

More giggles followed, even though it wasn’t funny. Mr. Richards glanced over briefly in mild annoyance, from where he was talking to another student, but that was all.

After all, it was just girls giggling.

Emmie had been making her life hell since middle school, and they were sophomores in high school now. The universe simply hated Lilith so much that it put her and Emmie and all her cronies in the same homeroom every year.

“I bet she cuts herself,” a third pretty, preppy girl chimed in. Emmie cawed performatively.

Lilith had never done that, in fact. She might be friendless, as good as a ghost, but she wouldn’t turn on herself.

She didn’t even know the third girl’s name, by the way. That one transferred in a few weeks ago, in the middle of the year; truly heartwarming to see her already bonding over joint torment of the weird girl.

I’m not even that weird, Lilith reminded herself. I don’t dress goth, I’m not a slut, I don’t wear glasses, I don’t watch anime. I’m normal. It’s not my fault.

Fine, maybe Lilith didn’t do makeup. Maybe she dressed in oversized hand-me-down sweaters, and maybe her long black hair was the wrong kind of messy, and extra greasy on days where she overslept so hard she didn’t shower ... When nobody likes you, sometimes self-care seems a little superfluous.

So maybe she was a mess. At least she was self-aware about it. Her real crime was making Emmie look dumb one time a trillion years ago, and here they were. She’d lost. They’d won. These days they just rubbed it in.

When finally the bell rang, Lilith shuffled out of the classroom. It was lunch hour, so Emmie & Co. didn’t follow, thank god.

When she arrived at the picnic tables outside the cafeteria, her brother Samuel was already there, smoking a cigarette. So were two of his friends. Or rather, his two friends. (Lilith didn’t think Sam had any other friends—but she herself had zero, so ... who was she to judge.)

“Hey, freak,” he greeted her, not sparing a glance.

“Hi.” Lilith closed her eyes.

She stifled the urge to run away; she didn’t want to be there either, she didn’t like it when her brother’s attention was on her, let alone in front of an audience of his buddies ... anxiety bubbled up like a roiling beast.

But then, so did the growl of her stomach that reminded her of why she was here in the first place. She took a deep breath, and began, “Umm, so um—”

“Cool style, Lilith!” interrupted Faye—the white ginger with dreads who Lilith strongly suspected had taken her brother’s V-card. “—I like your Doc Martens.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Me too. That’s why I got ‘em,” Lilith murmured, eyes locked on those very boots.

Small talk washed over her, much like the bullying did. She didn’t want to be acknowledged; she wanted to be left alone, and it was already difficult enough to talk to her stupid brother without being forced into another whole interaction.

“What do you want, Lilly?” her brother drawled, saving her from her thoughts.

She scowled looking up at him. “C’mon, Sam. I go Mondays without lunch so you can buy your stupid fuckin’ cigarettes and crap ... You have to give me lunch money the rest of the week. You promised.”

His response was to blow smoke in her face. Lilith scoffed and scrunched up her nose.

Sam chuckled, and followed up with, “ ... Maybe if you ask super nicely.” He wagged a finger at her.

She sighed.

Her brother loved these little power plays. But he was only part of the problem; their stepmom insisted on handing their combined lunch money to him and trusting that he’d divide it in two. What?! The same guy who stole money from Dad all the time and spent it on stupid weed?

Sometimes, Lilith felt like everyone in her whole family was either malicious, an idiot, or a malicious idiot.

Her brother was still staring at her, smirking at how she was lost in her head again. Her cheeks flushed. He was expecting some kind of begging here, she knew. Well, alright then.

“Pleeaase, Sammy?” she went, defeated. “C’mon ... I’m hungry.”

His redhead friend nudged him again, sharply, shaking her head and sparing Lilith a glance of profound pity.

Lilith looked away and kicked at the ground. She didn’t need pity from this girl, or from anyone. Though, given that the result was Sam taking out his wallet and shoving ten bucks into her hand, she could forgive it this time.

She didn’t thank him, or his stupid friend; her mind was already on those triangular pre-made sandwiches from the vending machine that she liked so much.

As you might expect, with a brother like that, going home at the end of the day didn’t bring Lilith reprieve from bullying. And unlike with schoolyard bullies, there was no escaping Samuel; he was the one driving. And once they were home, he knew she’d be in her room the rest of the day.

Indeed, sprawled on her bed in the afternoon reading A Game of Thrones for the fifteenth time, she gritted her teeth as her brother’s voice echoed through the hallway. “ ... Lilly! Lilly, where you hidin’ out, you little creep?”

“I told you not to call me that!” she yelled back, her face contorting into a frown.

No, not the creep part ... she was used to that. That was just what he called her. It was the Lilly that bothered her ... nobody but Sam called her that anymore since elementary school.

He loitered maliciously in her bedroom doorway, leaning against the doorpost with a stupid smirk on his face, watching her.

“ ... Yeah, what is it?” she demanded.

He put a hand over his heart, mock-hurt. “Huh? Can’t I just wanna spend time with my favorite sister?”

Lilith rolled her eyes, and went back to reading. Or at least pretended to.

He ambled closer. “Hmm? What’re you up to? More incest porn, huh?”

“Fuck off, Sam.” She looked up, only to shoot him a look of venom. “Leave me alone. I wanna be alone.”

“See, this is why you have no friends, Lilly,” he said, cheerfully. “You’re always such a toxic little bitch.”

He came even closer, all smooth and casual, with that grin still plastered on. To Lilith’s brain, a grinning Sam was one of the most menacing sights; it made her hair stand on end, Pavlov-style, fight or flight.

So too it did today. “What—Sam! Get away, retard!” She backed away, towards the wall behind her bed, even though really, there was no escape.

Frustration welled up; on a whim, she threw the nearest thing at him—her backpack. Too late, she realized her laptop was in there, but that just made it all the more effective as a weapon.

The bag hit him in the knee, eliciting a deeply satisfying oomph, a groan, and a stumble. And a deep feeling of justice, a rush of schadenfreude ... but it was all very short-lived. When he stood straight again, looming over her, her eyes barely had time to widen before he pounced on her.

He pinned her wrists with his hands, and her legs with his full weight. “You never learn, do you, Lilly.”

“Fuck you!”

Her struggles were to no avail, and it was hard not to feel defeated with his infuriating grin inches away from her face. That ‘I’m in charge here’, grin, reserved for when they were alone.

“What’s got your panties in such a twist today, huh?” he went. “Your boyfriend dump you?”

She scowled. “You know I’ve never had a boyfriend.” Like anyone’s interested in me.

“And why is that? Oh, right, because you don’t have any friends.” His voice was full of glee.

“I do have friends,” she protested half-heartedly, while wiggling around some more in another feeble attempt. Fuck herself for being so much smaller.

“Riiight,” drawled Samuel; “name one friend.” And when she opened her mouth, he quickly added, “—who isn’t from the internet.”

Lilith closed her mouth again, glaring at the wall.

“Exactly.” His smirk widened; she wanted to strangle him. “Soo ... no friends, no boyfriends, does that mean you’ve never kissed anyone?”

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks. “How about that’s none of your fuckin’ business?”

“Oof ... that’s sad, Lilly,” he teased. “Most girls have at least one or two under their belt by the time they’re 15. No wonder you’re always so grouchy. You just gotta get laid. Though, I suppose that’s kinda difficult, with no friends?” He made it sound like some neutral interview question.

She glared, her face on fire, until she had to look away from his stupid face. Why did he have to be such a piece of shit all the time? It was the same jokes every day: she had no tits, no friends, no way to push him off of her. No mom, either, but that much they had in common.

“Well, Lilly Silly,” Samuel continued unabated, “step one is to learn to smile.” He used his fingers to push up the corners of her mouth. “Like this. It’s what people do when they’re happy ... Hmm, it’s not working.”

“I only smile when you’re not in the room.” She jerked her head to get her cheek away from his hand, but obviously he just followed. “Stop it—ngh, fuckoff.”

By now, she’d actually half-managed to wriggle out of his grip, but her shirt had ridden up. And he honed in on that exposed skin like a shark out for blood ... Suddenly his fingertips were on her waist, tickling her.

“F-Fuck! Stahahahap!” she squealed, flailing her legs, struggling to escape.

“Not until you admit, out loud, that you’re a loser with no friends,” he went, and she could feel his breath on her ear, giving her goosebumps. It was only a short reprieve before he went back to tickling.

She lost her breath quickly. “ ... Fahahack—fine—I’m a loser with no friends! I’m a loser with no friends! Uhaha! Just stooohp!” To his credit, he did stop. She schooled her features back into a scowl.

He still didn’t let her go, of course. No, he lazily pinned both of her hands again. Lilith let out a sigh.

Somewhere around two years ago, Samuel discovered that he’d grown strong enough—at least compared to her—that he could fully hold her down like this, for as long as he felt like, whenever he wanted. He made greedy use of that fact when it was just them. It seemed to exhilarate him.

She met his gaze head-on, and they were locked in a staring contest; him grinning, her scowling, neither giving an inch. His grip on her wrists tightened a fraction, and she narrowed her eyes.

He was pushing it today. Well, alright then.

From this position, hitting him in the nuts wasn’t an option, so her one remaining recourse was implying he was on top of her for pervert reasons. That always made him quit, somehow. “ ... Well, what’s the endgame here, Sammy? Gonna rape me? Or kill me? Nah, you’re more a rape guy I bet. Maybe kill me after?”

As expected, he then let her go almost as if she hit him with a taser. So sudden, backing away, looking almost apologetic.

“Jesus. Don’t even say shit like that.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who’s always on top of me, asshole.”

“Anyways, I wouldn’t fuck a girl with no tits,” he added helpfully, grin returned.

“Screw you.” She kicked in his direction, but he was already halfway out of her room. “Whatever. Why don’t you kill yourself, Sam!”

“See. It’s like I said! Toxic bitch.”

Lilith put the book down and faceplanted her pillow. God, what a jerk. Always with that shit. She curled up in her sheets, put in earbuds, and spent the next hour feeling bad about her sucky existence.

Dinner came. In their household, that meant their stepmom Annette cooked dinner for five, Dad didn’t show, and Annette exclusively initiated conversation with her own daughter, their half-sister Allie, because she’d rather pretend that Lilith and Sam didn’t exist.

And on paper, Lilith was totally fine with that. She didn’t want attention anyway. Unfortunately, this policy of Annette’s also enabled all of Sam’s rotten bullshit as long as he directed it at Lilith and Lilith alone, i.e. not her precious little Allie.

As such, he spent all of dinner mocking her in a low voice.

“So, Lilly, what’s the plan tonight? Holed up like a saddo in your room, naturally, but...? Like, aside from that?” She didn’t answer. Then he leaned closer. “Oh, I get it. You won’t tell me ‘cause it’s private time with your hand between your legs?”

“Shaddup,” she murmured.

He didn’t shut up. “So who’s the unlucky bastard featuring in your silly fantasies, huh? Or are you a dyke?”

“Samuel!” Annette chastised, finally having heard something.

“Sorry,” he said with a smile, not sorry at all. His gaze didn’t even leave Lilith, and he continued to whisper. “So, got any internet e-boyfriends to flash your nonexistent tits to, then?”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Lilith hissed, glaring at her food, not meeting his gaze. “Why d’you keep bringing up my fuckin’—”

A hand hit the table. “Can you two please give it a rest?” Annette complained, having heard Lilith’s f-word that time. It was always ‘you two’, with her; Lilith never really felt seen when her stepmother intervened.

“Err, yeah, sorry, I’m sorry,” she mumbled, and she focused on scarfing down the rest of her food.

The conversation moved on to Allie, who was 14 and had lots of friends, and had gotten an A+ on some project, and was generally an utterly angelic presence that could do no wrong. She was so adorable that Samuel didn’t even bully her at all; in fact, he treated her like a princess. “That’s great, Al!” he was saying. Case in point.

Lilith loved her sister, too, so she didn’t blame her. Nor did she envy having Annette for a full-blooded mom, all detailed up in her business. Really, it was better like this.

After all that, Lilith was relieved to retreat to her own room at the first opportunity. She made sure to put away the plates so Annette had absolutely no reason to complain, and fled while Sam was still in conversation, for a guaranteed reprieve.

Unfortunately, when she finished her homework and wanted to cap off the evening with a nice calming bath, Samuel caught her by the arm in the hallway, yanking her back. “Nah, nah, I’m showering first. You fuck off back to your autistic little gooncave to diddle yourself.”

His needling was unusually sexually charged today. Presumably in revenge for her earlier comment, or maybe just because of how easily it made her blush.

The standoff only lasted a few moments. Lilith’s patience had worn thin, and she knew she’d lose any fair fight, so, tired and annoyed as she was, she kneed him in the nutsack. She regretted it immediately.

When he collapsed with a groan, she speedwalked the rest of the way to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind her.

Lilith took a deep breath to calm herself. I’ve won this round, she told herself, maybe he’ll let me have it. She let the bathtub fill up and scowled in the mirror.

Her hair was a mess, as always, black and wavy but no shine and clearly tangled. Hairstyle just-letting-it-grow; she was not a hair girl and she’d never had a mom teach her, either. It was hard to even brush.

She still liked it better than any other part of her. She was not nearly as curvaceous as the other girls in her year. Compared to real boobs, hers were basically nonexistent. Allie, for instance, two years younger, already lugged around boobs many cups bigger than Lilith’s miserable little sports bras.

She tossed her T-shirt over the closed toilet seat and inspected her torso in the mirror. Well, viewed from the side, they did have a bit of profile, but it was more triangular than round, like Allie’s...

Lilith was just small and skinny. Tight and bony—it was more unfortunate genes than a lack of any development at all. She’d seen photos of her mom ... let’s just say things weren’t looking up for Lilith in the further boob growth department.

Halfway through peeling off her tights, Lilith heard a scratching on the door. Frowning, she glanced over, and sighed when she watched the lock seemingly unlock itself from the outside.

Ugh, there we go. Perhaps the oldest trick in Samuel’s playbook. Dad and Annette had often told him not to ever do that to his sisters again, etc., but all that meant was that he saved it for special occasions.

She covered her bare chest with her arm as the door swung open to reveal him, notably not grinning this time.

“Creepin’ on me now?” Lilith spat.

“You don’t have anything worth lookin’ at.”

That stung. “Wouldn’t that just make you more creepy?”

He ignored her and crossed his arms, pointedly looking anywhere but at her chest now. “Gimme the bathroom or I’m kicking your ass, Lilly.”

She clenched her fists and looked away, embarrassed, tired, frustrated.

And maybe it was that cocktail of feelings that led Lilith to do something that surprised even herself, in a kind of manic impulse: she dropped her arm, baring her little tits, just to see if she could get a reaction out of him.

Turns out, she could.

Samuel might think he was some kind of evil super-bully, but he was also a boy, and now he just looked at her with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, his composure utterly shattered. Her own face was equally red, of course, how could it not be, she was showing a boy her tits; but she didn’t feel quite as flustered as he seemed to be.

In fact, Lilith felt a heady, horny feeling of power and control that she had never before experienced in her fifteen-and-a-half years of life.

“What’s the matter? You’re quiet all of a sudden, Sammy. I thought I didn’t have anything worth lookin’ at?” She was smiling, puffing her chest out. It felt weird. She didn’t do either of those things very often. “ ... For someone who keeps joking about that, you sure seem to be lookin’.”

She brought her hands up to cup them a little. That was too much for him, apparently.

“Fuck off,” he snapped, and after one final glare at her chest—as if it was the titties’ fault—he turned and slammed the bathroom door closed behind him.

She moved to lock it and leaned her back against it. Man, just like that, huh? She apparently had a secret weapon against Sam in the form of her girly parts—modestly sized they might be. But that means ... oh, God.

As she stretched like a cat to lay in the warm bubbly bath, Lilith had an epiphany of sorts. Somehow she didn’t feel embarrassed or weirded out like she probably should ... sure, her face burned, but the feeling of victory, and more importantly, of being desired for the first time, overpowered anything else.

Lilith had always thought she was too bony and her tits too tiny and pointy to be interesting to any boys, but ... Samuel was a boy. A particularly decent-looking one, even, though she knew she wasn’t supposed to think that...

No way he would have blushed and fled like that if he really thought there was “nothing” on display just now.

Oh man, she thought, before she slid a hand under the warm water toward the even warmer places between her legs. No wonder I’m getting fuckin’ bullied, I’m really fucked in the head.

Several orgasms later, Lilith was left mainly ashamed.

She didn’t masturbate to her brother very often, it was a guilty pleasure, that she only permitted when it was absolutely necessary. She had to acknowledge that she never came quite so hard as when she did.

Of course, the aftermath of that was all kinds of post-nut clarity and self-loathing and such. It was like an ice bath, despite the reality of sitting in a lukewarm one.