He started to move his hand in a fast, desperate rhythm. He wasn't being gentle. He was pulling at himself, his veins popping out on his forearm. Every time the girl on the screen screamed, Matt’s grip tightened. He was watching her, but in the dark, I felt like he was looking right through the screen and at me.
A strange, terrifying heat started to pool between my legs. I hated him. I hated this house. But as I watched him stroke that massive, throbbing weight, I couldn't move. I was trapped in the shadows, watching my stepbrother touch himself to a girl who looked just like me.
I stood there in the shadows, my back pressed against the cold stone pillar. My heart was beating so fast I thought it might burst through my chest. I should have run. I should have been disgusted. This was Matt
