My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 131

Chapter 131

My body felt like it was made of wet cement, sinking into the mattress. But I didn’t have the luxury of being tired.

Tired was for people who had a safety net. I only had the tightrope.

I’d drag myself to my morning classes, sitting in the back of the lecture halls with my eyes burning. The whiteboards were a disaster. The letters didn’t just dance, they revolted. They flipped upside down, mirrored each other, and slid off the screen. My dyslexia was a thick, gray fog that settled over everything. To keep the letters still, I’d reach into my bag.

Click. Zap.

The TENS unit would bite into my thighs under the desk. A sharp, electric sting would snap my brain back to reality. I’d grip my pen, forcing my shaky hand to move across the paper.·

By the time I reached the Orion Vector offices in the afternoon, I was running on fumes and caffeine. Aileen would give me that soft, worried look but whenever I needed it, she’d just nod and cover for me.

The archives were a nightmare of messy, handwritten ink. Thousands of pages of looping script that made my head spin. Every time the lines started to blur into gray smudges, I didn’t just use the TENS unit anymore. It wasn’t enough to keep the engine running.

I’d pull a heavy wooden ruler from the desk, a thick, solid piece of oak. I’d lay my hand flat on my desk discreetly and slam the wood down across my knuckles.

The pain was a cold, white light that cleared the static. I’d do the same to the tops of my feet.

“Stay awake,” I’d hiss to the cabin, “Work.”

I’d stay there until 8:00 PM, finishing the ledgers with a precision that would make Raphael satisfied.

Then, the transformation began.

The office girl disappeared. The Rose Garden girl took over.

Every time and every time, she didn’t argue. She just nodded slowly, like she didn’t believe me but didn’t knowhow to prove it. Then she’d step aside and let me pass.

After lying to my mother, I’d go straight to the bathroom, locking the door and turning the faucet on low so my mother wouldn’t hear. I’d fill the sink with ice-cold water.

I’d take a deep breath, grab a hand towel, and wrap it tight over my face. Then, I’d plunge my head into the water.

The sensation was immediate, the panic of not being able to breathe, the cold water soaking through the cloth and forcing its way into my nose. It was a simulated drowning, a self-inflicted terror that forced my heart to jump- start. I’d count to thirty, my lungs burning, my body thrashing against the porcelain, until the world was nothing but the desperate need for air.

I’d pull my head out, gasping and shivering, the water dripping onto the floor.

The fog was gone. The burnout was pushed back for another two hours. I’d dry my face, look at the ghost in the mirror, and go to bed for a measly two hours of sleep before the 6:00 AM alarm started the cycle all over again.