My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 152

Chapter 152

Chapter 152

Gianna

+15 Banus

I turned and slammed the metal bolt of the door into place.

Now,

it was just me and the water. And I deserved every bit of what was coming next.

I needed to drown out the noise. The sound of Morgan’s sobbing, the memory of Cole’s smile, and the strange feelings I felt for my stepbrother. It was all too much.

I grabbed a clean towel from the cabinet. I turned the cold water on. It didn’t just flow, it roared, splashing against the porcelain sink and spraying my shirt.

I didn’t use the sink. I went to the tub and lowered myself in it, my back against the freezing porcelain. I folded the towel over my face, covering my eyes, my nose, and my mouth. The world went black.

I grabbed the detachable showerhead and turned it to the highest pressure.

I didn’t hesitate for another second, I aimed the spray directly over my nose and mouth.

The water hit the fabric, and for a split second, it was just cold. Then, the towel saturated. It became a heavy, sodden weight that suctioned against my skin. I tried to take a breath, but I didn’t get air. I got a lungful of freezing, choking water.

My body went into a violent panic like it always did.

I bucked off the floor, my heels slamming into the porcelain. My lungs burned like they were filled with acid. I was drowning on dry land. I could feel the water forcing its way into my sinuses, a stinging pain that felt like needles being driven into my brain. I tried to scream, but the sound was swallowed by the wet fabric and the roar of the

water.

I can’t breathe. I’m dying. I’m actually dying.

This is what it feels like to break.

I deserve this.

Because I’m not strong enough.

I forced myself to keep the showerhead there. I gripped it so hard my knuckles popped. I wanted to feel the terror. I wanted to be pushed so far into the dark that the rest of the world disappeared. My vision started to turn into a swarm of black bees.

Finally, my hand went limp. The showerhead clattered into the tub, and I ripped the heavy, dripping fabric from my face.

I collapsed forward, retching and coughing up clear fluid onto my knees. I sucked in air, my chest heaved, my skin turning a ghostly, mottled blue in the shivering cold.

The panic was still there, as I stood back up with trembling legs, gripped the sink to keep myself up and then I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

Snap out of it.

I raised my hand and slapped myself. Hard.

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Steptor 12

+15 Batues

My head snapped to the side, and the sting on my cheek was a sharp, grounding heat.

“Get it together,” I hissed, then I raised my hand and slapped the other cheek.

I did it again and again until my face was burning and my ears were ringing. I needed the pain to pull me back. I needed to be awake.

I needed my daddy.

He always said I was soft. He said the reason I couldn’t see the words right was because I was lazy, because I wasn’t disciplined enough. He’d know exactly how to fix this. He’d know how to make me stay under the water until I learned to be still.

When my breath finally slowed, I slumped back against the wall. My hands were still shaking, but the violence had done its job. The world was quiet now. I could focus on things clearly. I reached up and began to stroke my own hair, my fingers light and trembling, imitating the way he used to touch my head after a long night of lessons.

“Shhh,” I whispered, “It’s okay, Gianna. You’re okay.”

I rocked myself back and forth on the wet floor, cradling my own body. I closed my eyes and summoned his voice from the dark corners of my memory, from the years before Mom stole me away from him and let me get soft.

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