KASMINE.
I dropped to my knees beside the bed, staring at the pile of my belongings with a mix of horror and confusion. My mind raced, searching for an explanation, but there was none. None that made sense.
Kester… my brother… had kept all these things. He'd taken them.
I felt sick. My chest tightened, and the room seemed to spin around me.
My hands were still trembling when I noticed a book. It had fallen out of the box, landing near my feet. The leather-bound cover was worn, its edges frayed as though it had been handled countless times. A diary.
I stared at it for what felt like an eternity, my pulse hammering in my ears. Fear clawed at my insides, twisting and tightening until I felt like I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to pick it up. Whatever was inside that diary, I knew it wouldn't make anything better. It would make it worse. So much worse.
But I couldn't leave it untouched. Not after everything I'd already uncovered.
My fingers hesitated before finally reaching for it. Slowly, I opened it to the first page.
My name stared back at me, written in Kester's familiar handwriting.
MINE.
I flipped to the next page, my fingers trembling so hard I nearly tore it.
"I took the ribbon she wore today. She looked so perfect in it. I couldn't help myself. It still smells like her. I kept it in my box. My secret. She can never know."
My heart stopped. The ribbon. I thought I'd lost it years ago.
I slapped the book shut, squeezing my eyes closed as my breathing grew ragged. My hands clenched the diary so tightly that my knuckles turned white.
No. No, this couldn't be real.
But it was.
I forced my eyes open and turned another page. This time, there was a crude drawing—of me. My face, my hair, and my smile were sketched with an almost obsessive level of detail.
"I don't know when it began, this maddening fixation on her smile. It's as if the world stops when she laughs, and I am the only one lucky enough to hear it. She's sunlight in a world that I no longer recognize. But how do I touch the sun without burning us both?"
"I know it's wrong. Gods, I know it. But how can something that feels so real, so consuming, be wrong? I can't stop thinking about her. The way her hair falls, the way she looks at me without knowing what I see in her eyes. She's too close and yet untouchable."
It seemed as if, as the years went by, whatever sick feelings he had for me began to grow darker.
"I can't help but watch her when she's asleep. I know it's wrong, but I can't stop myself from peeping through the hole I had carved on my wall. The way her chest rises and falls with each breath, the softness of her lips as they part—Selene, I ache to kiss them, to taste that sweet innocence before she knows what I’m capable of. My hand itches to reach out, to touch her skin, feel the warmth of her, but I won’t. Not yet. I won’t ruin her, not yet.”
"I dream about her at night. Her soft body pressed against mine, her mouth on my neck, my hands tracing the lines of her body, feeling every inch of her. She moans under my touch, and I can't stop myself from wanting more. I want to hear her beg for me, want me like I want her. I can't wait for that moment when I take her, when she's finally mine."
"I've imagined us alone, locked in a room where nothing but our hunger for each other matters. She doesn't know it, but I've seen her naked in my mind more times than I can count. I wonder what it would feel like to trace my fingers along the lines of her body, to kiss every inch of her until she's shaking. I want to see her break, watch her fall apart in my arms as I take everything she's been holding back."
"Kester…" I whispered as if he could hear me through the diary. My trembling hand covered my mouth to stifle the sob that almost broke out. My heart couldn't take this.
"Today, as she wore that flimsy bikini, swimming in the pool and thinking she was alone in the house, I pictured myself behind her, my hands gripping her hips, pulling her back against me. I want to feel her body move with mine, feel her heat as I bury myself inside her. I wonder what she tastes like, how her skin would feel under my mouth, the soft pressure of her thighs around me as I push deeper. I'm already so hard for her, it's unbearable. She doesn't even know what she's doing to me, but I can't stop. I have to have her."
"Ha!" I stifled another cry that almost escaped my trembling lips. No.
"I fantasize about her every night. I picture her kneeling in front of me, her hands pulling down my pants as she looks up at me with those innocent eyes, begging to suck me, to taste me. I think about her touching me, her lips brushing against my cock, her tongue circling me as I watch her. She's so perfect, so eager to please me, even if she doesn't know it yet. I could fuck her like she's never been fucked before—hard, deep, until she can't remember her own name, until I've made her mine in every possible way."
I couldn't take it anymore. I had to leave.
I quickly rose to my feet, ready to flee from this monster, when the door flung open with a loud thud.
"What the fuck are you doing in here?" He growled, and I felt the blood in my veins run dry.