The Weaer Sister

Ch 1.

[Content warnings: bullying, noncon, sadism, some violence, a touch of somnophilia. Don't read if it's not your thing. If you need me to tell you that bullying and sexual assault isn't acceptable irl, then you can go ahead and move on too. All characters are fictional and 18+.]

It's cold today. I can feel it through my jacket, the autumn chill biting through the thin fabric and scraping against my skin.

It doesn't hurt as much as when Jason shoves me hard against the chainlink fence of the Jefferson High parking lot. My back scrapes painfully against the metal, and I can feel tears starting to well up in my eyes. I try to hold them back - I know crying only makes it worse, makes him enjoy it more.

"Please," I whisper. "Just let me go home." My voice sounds pathetic even to my own ears. Weak. Just like me.

Jason's ice-blue eyes glitter with malice. 6'2" of lean linebacker muscle looms over me, sandy blonde hair catching the dying sunlight as he moves in closer. Like a shark. Pressing one hand against the wall next to my head. His fitted grey henley and designer jeans make him look like a model for some high-end clothing line, but the smile gives him away. It's not the practiced grin of a teenaged heartthrob. It's a predator's smirk, of someone who knows he's at the very top of the food chain.

And we both know who's at the bottom.

"Go home?" he mocks. "You want to go home? I thought we were having fun. Aren't you having fun?" His other hand grips my chin roughly, forcing me to look at him in the face. Behind him, his meathead friends snicker with amusement. They're part of his usual entourage - fellow jocks who think it's hilarious to watch him torment me day after day.

I try to turn my head away but his grip tightens painfully. "I asked you a question," he says, voice going hard. "Don't be rude."

"N-no," I stammer. "I'm not having f-fun."

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly. "Wrong answer." Without warning, he grabs my shoulders and I'm shoved down to the ground. My knees hit the pavement hard as I fall. "Ungrateful bitch."

I try to get up but his hand tangles in my long dark hair, holding me in place. Tears are falling freely now as he steps closer, positioning himself right in front of my face. The rough denim of his jeans brushes against my cheek as he starts moving my head back and forth against his crotch.

"There we go," he says softly. "Much better position for a little slut like you, isn't it?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, face burning with humiliation as his friends laugh like it's the funniest thing they've ever seen. This can't be happening. Not again.

His fingers dig into my cheek, pressing me harder against the growing stiffness in his pants. The shape of it feels bigger than it has any right to be. "Come on, lighten up, El. It's your lucky day."

Lucky? I feel anything but lucky. Lucky is waking up next to a loving boyfriend who buys me flowers and holds my hand during scary movies. Lucky is having friends who will drop everything to come cheer you up when you're down. Lucky isn't being cornered after school, your breath catching in your throat as a popular rich kid taunts you until you're brought to your knees, face pressed against the crotch of his pants, your brain drowning in the stench of sweat and cologne.

But it is - just like it has been ever since Isabella left for college. Without my big sister here to protect me, I'm helpless. Weak. Just like I was when dad...

The screech of tires interrupts my spiraling thoughts. My eyes fly open as a sleek convertible in classic turquoise comes tearing into the parking lot, engine roaring. Even before it skids to a stop, I recognize the roadster - Isabella's pride and joy, bought fourth-hand with her hard-won scholarship money and carefully restored with the help of a hundred YouTube tutorials. Relief floods through me at the sight.

The driver's door flies open and Isabella emerges like an avenging angel. My sister has always been beautiful, but college has only made her shine all the brighter. Her long dark hair streams behind her as she strides toward us, eyes blazing with fury. She's wearing a fitted blazer and pencil skirt - probably came straight from class.

"Get your fucking hands off my sister," she snarls.

Jason's grip loosens in surprise and I scramble away from him, stumbling to my feet. His friends take a few steps back - Isabella in a rage is an intimidating sight.

But Jason's smirk just deepens as he looks my sister up and down with obvious appreciation. "Well, well. The prodigal sister returns. Looking good, Bella."

"Fuck you," Isabella spits. She pulls me protectively behind her, even though she's only an inch or two taller. "Stay away from Elena, you piece of shit. Or I swear to God I'll make you regret it."

Jason holds up his hands in mock surrender, still smiling that cold smile. "Hey, no need for threats. I'd be happy to leave little Elena alone..." His eyes rake over Isabella's figure again. "If you'd be willing to take her place. What do you say? Drinks tomorrow night? I promise I'll be a perfect gentleman."

"Go to hell." Isabella grabs my arm and starts pulling me toward her car. "Come on, Lena. Elana, I said come on."

"Your loss," Jason calls after us. "Offer stands though. Anytime you want to trade places with your sister..."

Isabella practically shoves me into the passenger seat before climbing in herself. The engine roars to life and we peel out of the parking lot, leaving Jason and his friends behind.

For several minutes we drive in tense silence. I can see Isabella's white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, the muscle twitching in her jaw.

Finally she explodes: "What the FUCK, Elena? I thought we talked about this. How long has this been going on again?"

I shrink down in my seat. "A... a while."

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you fight back? You can't just let people treat you like that!"

"I tried!" The words burst out of me. "I did try! But I'm not...I'm not like you, Bella. I'm not strong like you. I can't just..."

"Yes you can!" She slams her hand against the steering wheel in frustration. "You have to! I'm not always going to be there to protect you. What happens next time?"

I wrap my arms around myself, trying not to cry again. She's right. I know she's right. But every time I try to stand up to Jason, all I can see is dad's face, feel his hands...

Isabella's voice softens. "Elena... I know it's hard. I know..." She reaches over to squeeze my hand. "But you can't let that bastard keep controlling your life. And you definitely can't let entitled little shits like Jason do the same thing."

"I know," I whisper. "I'm trying."

She sighs. "I know you are, El. I just... I worry about you. Especially with me away at school."

I look out the window at the familiar streets of our small town sliding by. The sun's fully set now, streetlights flickering on one by one. "How long are you home for?"

"Just the long weekend. I have to head back Monday morning." She glances at me. "But I was thinking maybe you could come stay with me next weekend? Get away from this place for a bit?"

Hope flutters in my chest. "Really? Mom would let me?"

Isabella snorts. "Mom's barely home enough to notice. Besides, you're eighteen now. You can make your own decisions."

She's right about Mom. Between her job at the diner and her night shifts at the convenience store, we hardly see her at all. I know she's doing her best, trying to keep us afloat after...after everything with dad. But sometimes I miss her almost as much as I miss Isabella.

"Yeah," I say. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Isabella smiles and squeezes my hand again. "Good. We'll make a plan." Her smile fades. "But Elena... promise me you'll tell me if that asshole bothers you again? I mean it - I'll come back here and make his life hell."

I manage a weak smile. "I know you would."

But as we pull into our driveway, I can't shake the cold feeling in my gut. Because I saw the look in Jason's eyes when he was watching Isabella. That predatory interest. And I know Monday is coming, when Isabella will be gone again. And Jason will still be here, probably even angrier than before.

And I know I won't tell her about that either, the same way I haven't told her about the time Jason dunked my head in the toilet after PE class, or when he dumped my juice over my head at lunch. I won't go running to her every time I feel like crying; she's the strong one, the brilliant one, with a whole future ahead of her. She has better things to do than hover over me every day of the week. I don't want to get in the way of her life. And, I tell myself, I can handle my own life. This is my way of being strong. Sticking it out, even when the going gets tough. Less than a year until graduation, my escape from this hellhole. I can do that much on my own.

I glance at our small, run-down house at the end of Wharton Street. The paint is peeling and the porch light is burnt out again. Mom's car isn't in the driveway - probably won't be until after midnight. Inside, the rooms will be dark and empty.

Isabella is already climbing out of the car, grabbing her overnight bag from the backseat. She's talking about ordering pizza, having a sister movie night like we used to. Trying to make things normal.

Normal.

Right.

~~

The second floor girls' bathroom is something you'd see out of a horror film. Flickering lights, oddly stained floors, cryptic messages and warnings scrawled on the stalls.

I feel like I'm in a horror movie now.

I try to back away from Jason but there's nowhere to go. Madison, his bottle blonde girlfriend, leans against the door behind him, tapping away at her phone with a bored expression on her perfectly made-up face. Her cheerleader uniform hugs her every curve, somehow perfectly pristine despite the grime around her.

"You know, you really pissed me off yesterday," Jason says, advancing on me until my back hits the cold tile wall. "Running behind your sister like that." His eyes are dark with anger, different from his usual cold amusement.

I try to make myself smaller, pressing back against the wall. "Please... class is about to start..."

He slams his hand against the wall next to my head, making me flinch. "Fuck class. We need to have a little chat." His other hand comes up to grip my chin roughly, forcing me to look at him. "Bella doesn't seem to like me very much. You have any idea why?"

"She doesn't-"

"I get the feeling like you've been telling her mean things about me. Is that true?"

"No, please, I wouldn't-"

"You wouldn't, would you? You wouldn't go tattling on me to that hot piece of ass?"

A shudder runs through every inch of my body as he leans in closer. "Don't talk about her like that!"

His hand flashes forward, and my head snaps back with the slap. "Don't fucking tell me what to do, Elena. Do you understand?"

I nod, numb. What else am I supposed to do?

"Because I'm going to talk about your sister however I want. I bet that stuck up cunt's so fucking tight."

Behind him, Madison rolls her eyes, but even she doesn't say anything. She likes her place as queen bee right by his side. She likes it too much to risk pissing him off.

"Oh," says Jason, "does that bother you? Always being the ugly sister?"

Tears sting my eyes but I try to blink them away. I won't cry. I won't give him the satisfaction.

"I mean, Isabella..." he whistles low. "Those legs in that skirt yesterday? And that attitude. What a girl. But you..." His grip tightens painfully. "You're just the boring bitch version, aren't you? The weaker sister."

"Jason, baby," Madison calls from the door, "don't be mean. It's not her fault she got all the bad genes."

They both laugh and I feel my face burning with humiliation. Jason leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear. "You know what I think? I think Isabella needs to be taken down a few pegs. I know some guys in her classes. Apparently she's a world-class bitch there too. All that scholarship money really went to her head, huh? I think she needs a man to show her she's not so special after all. Maybe I should pay her a visit some day, give her a taste of the treatment you love so much."

"Leave her alone," I whisper, a flicker of anger finally breaking through my fear. "Don't you dare touch her."

His eyes light up. He likes it when I put up a fight. If you can call it that. "Oh? Finally showing some spirit?" His hand slides from my chin to my throat, squeezing just enough to make my heart work harder. "Cute. But here's what's going to happen - you're going to be a good little girl and tell your sister to mind her own fucking business, or I'll mind it for her."

"Please," I gasp, trying to squirm away from him. "I'll tell her, just let me go..."

"Mmm, not quite yet." His free hand moves to grip my hair, yanking my head back painfully. "First, I think we need to make sure you understand your place. Maddy baby - want to have a little fun?"

Madison pushes off from the door, perfect white teeth gleaming. "I thought you'd never ask."

Gretchen finds me twenty minutes later, clothes torn and ripped to ribbons, lipstick smeared all over my face, hair twisted in awful knots. I can still taste Madison's spit in my mouth even though I've done my best to cough it all out. Gretchen takes one look at me and immediately starts gathering paper towels, wetting them in the sink.

"Oh my God, Elena!" Her glasses fog up as she helps clean my face. "Was it him again?"

I can't answer, just press my face into her shoulder and sob. Gretchen holds me, stroking my hair and murmuring soothing words. Finally, when I've cried myself out, she helps me to my feet and over to the sink. She understands - she's been targeted by Madison's mean girl clique before, though never as badly as me. She's one of the school's nerd queens, president of the dungeons and dragons club and the local cosplay group. But she still carries herself with quiet dignity that I've never been able to manage. Sometimes it feels like everyone in the world is better than me.

"You can't keep letting them do this to you," she says, carefully wiping coffee from my hair. "We should tell someone."

"Who?" My voice comes out raspy. "The teachers love him. And his dad's on the school board."

Her face is troubled as she helps me fix my clothes and hair. "At least tell Isabella?"

"I can't." The words break in my voice. Even Gretchen knows; I'm helpless on my own, without my sister around. The realization burns at me from the inside. I have to bite it back. "He...I can't keep involving her."

Gretchen sighs. "Well, you need a distraction at least. There's a party tomorrow night at Mike's house. His parents are out of town." She gives me a hopeful look. "Come with me? We can dress up, have some fun. Forget about all this for a while."

I almost say no. Parties aren't really my scene - too many people, too many chances for something to go wrong. But the thought of sitting alone in my empty house, reliving today over and over...

"I'll think about it," I whisper.

Gretchen beams like I've already said yes. "I'll pick you up at eight!" She helps me to my feet, grimacing at my coffee-stained shirt. "Here, I've got a spare top in my locker. Let's get you changed."

As we leave the bathroom, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes are red and swollen, my lip split. But it's the emptiness in my expression that scares me most. I look hollow, broken.

Maybe Sarah's right. Maybe I do need to get out, try to feel normal again. But as we walk down the hallway, I can't shake the feeling that nothing will ever be normal again. And somewhere in the back of my mind, I hear Jason's voice: "You're just the boring bitch version."

Maybe he's right. Maybe that's all I'll ever be.

~~

I stare down at my half-finished calculus homework, numbers swimming before my eyes. My phone propped against my textbook, as I try to focus on Isabella's voice coming through the speaker.

"...and then Professor Roberts had the nerve to say my analysis wasn't thorough enough! Me! I cited fourteen different precedent cases!" Isabella's indignant tone would normally make me smile, but my split lip still stings a little too much for that.

"That's ridiculous," I manage, hoping my voice comes across as normal. "Your analysis is always perfect."

"Right? God, some of these old white men just can't handle a woman knowing her shit." There's rustling on her end of the line. "Hold on, trying to decide between the red dress or the black one."

"For the party?" I ask, grateful for a change in subject. My hand trembles slightly as I jot down another equation, wincing at the memory of Jason slamming my head against the bathroom wall earlier. The numbers blur together and I blink hard, trying to clear my vision.

"Yeah, Emma's throwing this huge bash to celebrate midterms being over. Her sorority always throws the best parties." More rustling, then a contemplative hum. "Definitely the black one. Shows just enough cleavage to be interesting, but not desperate. You know?"

God, I'd give anything to have her confidence. I swallow past the lump in my throat. "Sounds fun."

There's a pause on the line. "You okay, El? You sound congested."

"Oh, just a little cold," I say quickly, probably too quickly. "It's been going around school. Half my English class was out sick today." At least that part isn't a lie.

"Uh-huh." She doesn't sound convinced. "What about that Jason asshole? Is he still harassing you?"

My hand spasms so badly my pencil drops to the desk. "No," I lie, staring at the dark graphite smudges on my paper. "He barely even looks at me anymore."

"You sure? Because last time I was home, he was looking at you like..." She trails off, then comes back harder. "If he's still bothering you, Elena, I swear to God I'll come home and deal with him myself."

"It's nothing," I insist. Forcing myself to pick up my pencil again. I start the integration problem over, focusing on each careful step of the process. "Really. He's just an idiot. He barely even notices me anymore."

The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but it's better than the alternative. Better than Isabella knowing the truth. Better than her knowing I can't even protect myself.

"Mmm." Isabella doesn't sound entirely convinced. "You're taking care of yourself, right? Drinking lots of fluids?"

"Yes, mom," I tease weakly. "I'm fine, really. Actually..." I hesitate, then push forward. I want her to go back to having fun. To enjoying her night. I don't want her worrying about me every hour of the day. "I'm going to a party tonight too."

"What?" The surprise in her voice is almost comical. "My little hermit crab sister, going to a party? Who are you and what have you done with Elena?"

"Gretchen invited me," I explain. "It's at Mike Henderson's house. His parents are away for the weekend."

"Mike Henderson... isn't he that nerdy kid? Always wearing Star Wars shirts?"

"Yeah. He's in the D&D club with Gretchen." I fidget with my pen. "It won't be anything crazy. Just some people hanging out, maybe watching movies or something."

"Still!" Isabella sounds genuinely excited. "This is great, El! You need to get out more, have some fun." Her voice turns stern. "But be careful, okay? No drinking if you're driving, and absolutely no getting into cars with drunk people. And watch your drink - don't let it out of your sight, and don't take anything from anyone you don't completely trust."

"I know, I know." Despite everything, warmth blooms in my chest at her protective big sister mode. "Don't worry, I'll be careful."

"And boys!" she continues. "I know how teenage guys can be. Don't let anyone pressure you into anything. If some guy starts getting handsy, knee him in the balls and run."