Chapter 1

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

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

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

“I can see it,” Julia relented. “Less retard and more psycho these days, maybe?”

Then Emmie giggled. “Nah ... Definitely still a retard, just also a psycho. I mean they should probably check her locker or whatever.”

Lilith tried her best to hide from her bullies, in particular these two, but in class there was no avoiding them, and because she trained herself not to react, the teachers never really figured it out.

Emmie had been making her life hell since the first year of middle school, and then they went to the same high school, the same homeroom, even—and from there she’d recruited this Julia character, who didn’t even have history with Lilith before she went all-in on the bullying. (And they called her the weirdo... )

“Right. I bet she cuts herself too,” a third girl added; rather overkil, in Lilith’s opinion. If life was fair, they would’ve made fun of third-girl because she didn’t quite match Emmie’s specific flavor of torture, but of course they didn’t give a crap about sloppy work from third-girl; they were just glad to have her on side.

(Lilith didn’t even know third-girl’s name; it was a new kid who transferred in two weeks ago. Heartwarming to see that she was making friends already.)

For the most part, Lilith just ignored them, ignored everything, and tried to stay out of everyone’s way. Emmie had poisoned the well early on, so Lilith had no friends, nor even anyone sitting next to her most classes; and her brother Sam didn’t want his little sister hanging out with him or his friends during lunch, either. Lilith was playing high school on hard mode, so to speak, and it’d been years, so at this point she was so used to it.

When the bell finally rang and Lilith shuffled out of the classroom, Emmie & Co. didn’t follow her; the bitches also valued their lunch hour. In her head, Lilith liked to compare it to the Christmas Truce in World War 1.

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 none, so ... who was she to judge.

“Hey, freak.” He didn’t spare her a glance.

“Hi.” Lilith closed her eyes. She should just ask, but it was a bit overwhelming talking to him in front of his buddies. She really didn’t like it when people’s attention was on her, let alone multiple that she barely knew.

Anxiety bubbled up like a roiling beast getting her near-catatonic. But she had to ask. “Umm, so um—”

“Cool style, Lilith,” interrupted Faye, the white girl with dreadlocks who Lilith was sure had introduced her brother to all that weed and booze stuff. And probably banged him casually as friends. “I like your Doc Martens.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Me too. That’s why I bought them.” Lilith’s eyes were on those very shoes now, coincidentally.

Small talk washed over her, much like the bullying did. It was already difficult enough to talk to Samuel alone; she wished his friends would just ignore her, not acknowledge her at all. She didn’t want to be acknowledged.

“What do you want, Lilly?” her brother saved her from her thought-spiral.

She looked up at him with a frown bordering on a glare. “C’mon, Sam. I go Mondays without lunch so you can buy your stupid fuckin’ cigarettes ... You have to give me lunch money the rest of the week. You promised.”

“Maybe if you ask real nicely.”

Her brother loved these little power plays. But he was only part of the problem, here. Lilith couldn’t understand why their stepmom handed him lunch money for the both of them, assuming he’d be responsible about it ... He was an asshole. This was only to be expected.

Lilith sighed. “Pleeaase, Sammy?” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at how pathetic and needy she sounded.

By the look in his eyes, she knew he was going to ask something else. Some errand, or homework he needed done. But then his friend Faye nudged him and shook her head, sending Lilith a glance of pity.

Fuck her, and her pity! But it did cause Sam to take out his wallet and shove ten bucks into her hand, so, mission accomplished. She didn’t thank him, nor 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, going home at the end of the day with a brother like that did not bring Lilith reprieve from bullying. And unlike with schoolyard bullies, there was no hiding from Samuel; her room didn’t have a lock, and their house wasn’t nearly big enough to hide from someone who knew you were home.

So, sprawled on her bed in the afternoon, she cringed at his voice in the hallway, closer than she wanted. “Lilly! Lilly, where you hiding out, you little creep?”

“I told you not to call me that!”

He just stood there in her doorway, expectantly, with some stupid grin on his face.

She rolled her eyes. “What the hell is it?”

“Huh? Can’t I just wanna spend time with my favorite sister?”

Yeah, right.

“Hmm? What’re you up to?” He came closer.

“Fuck off, Sam.” She looked up, finally, to shoot a look of venom. “Leave me alone.”

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

After a moment, he sauntered over to her bed, grin still plastered on. “What—Sam! Get away, retard!” Lilith backed away from him instinctually, further towards the wall, though really there was no escape. She threw the nearest thing at him—her backpack.

Too late, she realized her laptop was in it, but that just made it all the more effective as a weapon. The bag hit Samuel in the knee, eliciting a deeply satisfying oomph and a groan of pain as he stumbled.

Yeah!

But then he stood straight again, towering over her, with nothing but extra malice and motivation as a result of the hit she’d landed. Right...

Lilith’s eyes barely had time to widen before he pounced on her.

He held her wrists down with his hands, and her legs with his full weight. And just smirked. She struggled, to no avail. “Get off, fuck off!” But the wind wasn’t in her sails, with Sam’s infuriating grin inches away from her face. That ‘I’m in charge here, and you’re not’, grin.

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

She glared. “I’ve never had a boyfriend.” As if anyone was interested in her. He reminded her often enough that she barely had tits.

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

Ugh. She walked right into that one.

“I do have friends,” she protested halfheartedly, while struggling some more. He had her pinned, though, so it was pointless. Fuck herself for being so much smaller.

“Riiight,” drawled Samuel, “name one friend.” When she opened her mouth, he quickly added, “—who isn’t from the internet.” She 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 been kissed either?”

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks. “How ‘bout 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 need to get laid. Though, I suppose that’s kinda difficult, with no friends?”

He made it sound like a neutral interview question.

She glared at him, her face on fire, and she soon had to look away from his stupid grin. Why did he have to be such an ass all the time? Almost the same jokes verbatim every day. Couldn’t he give it a rest?

“Well, my dear Silly,” he 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.”

“Maybe I’d have a reason to smile if you left me the fuck alone.” She jerked her head away from his hand. “Stop it—ngh, fuckoff.” By now she’d half-managed to wriggle out of his grip, but her shirt had ridden up.

And he honed in 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, and it gave her goosebumps. It was only a short reprieve before he went back to tickling.

“ ... Fahahack—fine—I’m a loser with no friends! Uhaha! Just stop!”

To his credit, he did stop. She schooled her features, back into a glare. He still didn’t let her go, however, once again gripping both of her wrists and languidly pinning them above her head.

Lilith let out a sigh.

Somewhere around two years ago, Samuel had discovered that he’d grown strong enough—at least relative to Lilith—that he could fully hold her down like this, for as long as he wanted, whenever he felt like it. He made greedy use of that fact. Just loved to show her just how powerless she was.

She struggled, of course, just as she was struggling right now, but it was just a game to him, and one heavily weighted in his favor.

So she met his gaze, and they were locked in a staring contest; he grinned, she glared, neither giving an inch. His grip on her wrists tightened a fraction, and she narrowed her eyes.

She had exactly one weapon against him: out-of-pocket shock comments.

“Well, what’s the endgame here? Gonna rape me?”

He then let her go all of a sudden, so sudden, backing away. “Jesus. Don’t even say shit like that.”

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

“Anyways, I wouldn’t fuck a girl with no tits,” he added. That fucking grin. Her triumph proved short-lasting, because now she just felt self-conscious again.

“Screw you.” She kicked her heel in his direction, but he was already halfway out the room. “Whatever. Just kill yourself!”

“See. It’s like I said. Toxic bitch.” But he was kind of blushing.

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 allowed Sam’s bullshit as long as he directed it at Lilith and not her precious little Allie.

So 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, of course, but...? 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?”

“Shut up,” 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 him, 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, like, my fuckin’—”

“Can you two please give it a rest?” Annette complained, having heard Lilith’s f-word that time. Yeah, with her it was always ‘you two’. Lilith truly never felt more powerless than when her step-mom ‘intervened’ in their ‘bickering’.

“Err, yeah, 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 a total angel who 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.

After all that, Lilith was relieved to retreat to her own private space again at the first opportunity. She made sure to put away a few of 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.”

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.

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. She’d won this round. She let the bathtub fill up and looked at herself in the mirror.

Her hair was a mess, as always, black and wavy but no shine and clearly tangled, without a decided hairstyle other than ‘just letting it grow’. 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 wore two bras two cups bigger than Lilith’s miserable little sports bras.

She tossed her oversized T-shirt on the closed toilet seat and inspected her torso in the mirror. Well, viewed from the side, they did have a bit of a perky profile, but that was probably just ‘cause she was so skinny. And everyone knew that real boobs were supposed to be round and soft, not pointy little triangles.

Halfway through peeling off her tights, Lilith heard a scratching from the door. Frowning, she glanced over, and watched as the lock somehow unlocked itself from the outside.

Of course.

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

“Creeping on me now?”

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

“Doesn’t that just make it more creepy? Like, pedophilic or whatever?”

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, frustrated, embarrassed, annoyed, tired, all at once. And maybe it was just a little much for her, because then she did something that surprised even herself, in a kind of manic impulse:

Lilith dropped her arm, baring her little tits, just to see if she could get a reaction out of him.

Turns out, she could; she heard his breath catch. Samuel might think he was some kind of evil super-bully, but he was also a boy, and now he just looked away with a flush on his cheeks. No snide comments about her body.

She almost had to do a double take. Sam, not her, was the one who looked away for once! Red-faced, even! Could it really be that easy? Seriously? (No doubt her own face was equally red, but whatever.)

In that moment, Lilith felt a heady, horny feeling of power and control she had never felt before in her fifteen and a half years of life. “What’s the matter? 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. “You’re quiet all of a sudden, Sammy. Aren’t you the one who keeps bringing up my titties?”

“Fuck off,” he muttered, and after one final glare at her chest, as if it was the titties’ fault, he turned without a word and slammed the door closed behind him.

She moved to re-lock the bathroom. Wow, she’d won, just like that? Somehow she didn’t feel embarrassed like she probably should, even though her face burned. The feeling of victory was too powerful and all-encompassing.

When she stretched like a cat to lay in the warm bubbly bath, Lilith had an epiphany of sorts. She apparently had a secret weapon against Sam in the form of her girly parts—modestly sized they might be. But that meant...

Well, 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 no, she thought, before she slid a hand under the warm water toward the even warmer place between her legs. No wonder she got fuckin’ bullied, she thought with a sly smile. She wasn’t right in the head.

Two hours and several orgasms later, Lilith was mostly left mortified. Usually when she touched herself, she just pictured, like, nondescript boys or men, or that one guy Luke that Sam hung out with who was kinda hot. But this time...

This time, she’d just let her imagination go wild, and the result was vividly imagining herself with Samuel, showing him more and more of her and then letting him touch her.

She’d never come so hard. Of course, that fantasy was followed by a good dose of post-nut clarity and self-loathing, hence her current situation, head buried in her hands on the rim of the bath.

She knew that this was a kind of messed up that she would never live down. Intrusively, she imagined Emmie and the bitches knowing she masturbated to her own brother, and bullying her about it.

God, that would be so bad. She had to giggle; and that broke her spell of self-pity.

It was nearly 11:30 P.M. and the bath had gone cold. She brushed her hair (a generally pointless exercise) and when she’d dried off, she put on just panties and a too-big grey hoodie, before making her way downstairs for a nightly snack.

Downstairs was empty and dark. Allie and Annette were both early sleepers and early risers. Dad was still on whatever trip he’d been on all week ... Samuel wasn’t accounted for, but he was probably up smoking weed in his stinky attic.

She made herself a double Nutella sandwich and took a bite or two. Then she tried to go back upstairs, but before she could make it halfway there, Sam was suddenly there in the hallway, blocking the stairs, a lazy smirk on his face.