Episode 15

Landon Howland:

At some point, I crossed a bridge onto the wrong path.

I've always been aware of my sister, even when I chose to leave home to move into the university dorms.

She's always wandered through my mind; I worried about Cath like any other older brother would worry about their younger siblings.

But then something's off, something doesn't feel right when I think about her.

I have to remind myself that she's just an inexperienced girl who has spent her life cooped up at home under our parents' strict rules.

Too innocent and naive.

I try to erase the image of her body wearing that dress that clung too tightly to her figure, outlining her damn perfect curves.

What was mom thinking?

I can't believe she sent her daughter dressed like that to deliver her on a silver platter to another man.

My blood boils just thinking about other idiots laying their eyes on her.

I pour myself a glass of wine to wash away the bad taste in my mouth, feeling my heart constricted, hoping to punish it for choosing to go mad over someone unattainable.

"Idiot," I tell myself, downing the glass in one gulp.

She's only 16, turning 17 soon, but still damn too young.

She's my sister, my little sister.

I can't do this to her, I can't lead her down a path with no future.

I'd ruin her life.

She's still too young.

"Shit," I let myself fall onto the couch.

I don't understand what happened; I was so happy exchanging messages with my sister, so pleased to spend time with her on weekends.

There was nothing wrong with it; I just wanted her close, wanted to see her happy and be responsible for her laughter. But then it stopped being enough, and I started wanting more.

I have no right to expect more.

It's not supposed to be this way.

"You're a sick bastard," I hate myself for ruining it, for tainting our sibling relationship with something dirty and disgusting.

I can't keep seeing Cath in this condition; I can't do it when being near her triggers a forbidden desire.

Today I was tempted to demand that she touch herself, to bring her hand to her pink folds and tell me how needy she was. Of course, I didn't; I couldn't say that to my sister, even if the desire to do so was killing me.

After our call, I was so damned hard it was painful.

Even then, I didn't dare touch myself because I would do it thinking of her, and then I couldn't continue to live with that on my conscience.

Of all the women in town, in the country, in the damn world.

Why did it have to be my sister?

"Don't drag her into your shit," I tell myself, repeating it over and over in my head until it engraves itself in my system.

I won’t touch her.

I won't think of her, not in that way.

Her body was warm during our call; I can't help remembering it when she said it in such a damn maddening tone, so curious and scared because she didn't understand.

I move my hand toward my crotch to adjust my hardness in my pants, excited by the mere memory of her voice.

"You're not going to touch yourself because of your sister," I order myself.

Even if the bastard below isn't pleased with the decision, getting even firmer and demanding relief.

I pour another glass of wine, drinking it in one gulp, just like the last.

Why did it have to be Dolly?

Why her?

"Damn it," I'm frustrated and furious with myself when I release the belt and lower the zipper of my pants.

I free my hardness by pulling it out of my underwear and hold it firmly, hating myself as I move my hand up and down, stroking the tip while the image of Dolly is in my head.

I'm disgusted with myself when I find release too soon.

"Touch her and I'll kill you, bastard." It's a promise; I'd rather die than defile her with my hands.

Dolly will remain my sister, my sweet and gentle little sister.

Before ruining her, I'll distance myself, even though the mere thought of it breaks my damn heart.

I tell myself it's for her well-being and mine; it was a mistake to spend too much time alone with her.

Catherine deserves a normal life, and I could only lead her toward a tragedy with no way out.

So I have to end it now, to cut off this feeling at its root before it's too late and I'm unable to control it.

Dolly would understand; I know she couldn't judge me, she never would, not her.

It was never in my plans to see her in any other way; I never expected to fall in love with my sister.

God, I'm horrible.

I'm a sick bastard who deserves divine punishment for the atrocities that cross my mind when I think about her.

Before defiling her purity, I'll step out of her life.

My heart twists in my chest, refusing the idea of not meeting with my beloved, but I decide to ignore it because the idiot had the brilliant idea to become infatuated with my sister above all other women.

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