Game of the Stepbrothers (2 Wicked Stepbrothers 1 Innocent Girl 4)

Slowly, I move Blane’s hands from my collarbone to my belly. I let him stroke it distractedly before turning to face him. I have some big news to share.

I was nervous about this, and not because of Blane’s reaction - I knew he would be thrilled. I was more afraid of the way I would react, knowing I was not prepared for this new life growing in inside of me.

But something happened deep inside of me in that house on the island, realizing I was carrying my love’s child. I realized I would fight for this baby, fight anyone and everyone. He became the reason I survived, the reason to breathe and take whatever life threw at me.

Blane’s eyes look at me in wonder and my face breaks into a hesitant smile.

“We won’t be so alone,” I say softly. “We’ll have some company …”

His pupils widen at the news and I feel him freeze in the bed next to me.

“You …?” he begins, imploring me to answer with his eyes, desperate for me to give him the first piece of good news in a long while.

Slowly, I start to nod.

And right there, in the hospital room, I feel the darkness retreat.

It snarls and writhes as it leaks away, and the sun shines into the room with full force until there’s not even a single shadow left. And I know while the darkness may have claimed Aiden …

I am safe now.

Epilogue

3 years later

“Mommy, mommy, wake up!”

I open my eyes slowly, waiting for them to adjust to the sunlight. But before I can do that, someone starts jumping up and down on me, forcing a laugh out of my body.

“Why don’t you go bother Daddy?” I ask jokingly, and the little girl on top of me hugs me tightly before she answers. I tuck her in beside me, stroking her perfect silky blonde hair, thankful, like every day, that I’m now woken up by her laughter instead of the nightmares that used to plague me in the past.

“Daddy said you need to come downstairs,” my little angel says with a pout, and I laugh as I scoop her up in my arms, getting out of bed. I carry her downstairs as she chatters incessantly about her adventures in kindergarten.

For such a small child, she sure talks a lot. I wonder who she got that from.

Coming downstairs, we’re greeted by the smell of bacon and pancakes and my baby jumps out of my arms, running towards her Daddy excitedly. She clutches his legs, unable to reach further up, and he scoops her up in his arms to help him cook.

I come up behind them, hugging them both close. Blane turns his head and presses an affectionate kiss against my lips.

“Almost done,” he tells me with a wide smile, and I love the fact that his once perpetual scowl is now a thing of the past. He’s stepped down as the head of the company, leaving it in the capable hands of a family friend. These days, we’re all about spending time together, always trying for another bundle of joy to keep our baby girl happy.

We sit down to breakfast and I tuck into my food with gusto.

My girl chatters as Blane and I exchange loving glances, feeling connected over the love we share for our child. But then, she asks a question that stops me in my tracks.

“Why did you give me my name, Mommy?” my baby wonders out loud.

I look at Blane, glued to the spot and unable to respond.

Because how are you supposed to tell your 2-year old she’s named after the woman her uncle killed in cold blood? What on Earth am I supposed to do now?

Thankfully, Blane is there to save me, just like he always does.

“Marissa was a girl who isn’t with us anymore,” Blane explains patiently to our baby. “And we wanted to name you after her, to make sure we had another Marissa in the world. Once day, when you’re a little bit bigger, we will tell you all about her.”

That seems to please our daughter and she chatters for a while longer before disappearing into the living room to play with the Golden Retriever puppy we just got.

Blane reaches for my hand across the table, squeezing it to check if I’m okay. I offer him a brave smile, though I’m feeling nothing like my expression.

“Alright?” he asks worriedly, and I find it in myself to nod. I get up from the table abruptly and give him an apologetic smile.

“I just have to sort something out,” I say quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

I can see the confusion in his eyes, but also understanding. He gives me a soft nod as I leave the room, heading upstairs.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the attic, and when I pull down the stairs that lead up there, I struggle and inhale so much dust I nearly choke to it. Climbing it slowly, I finally make my way to the neglected storey.

It’s warm from all the windows in the roof, but the room is a huge ghost town. Everything is covered in dusty white sheets to protect our possessions from decay. But I know exactly what I’m here for as I step towards the easel in the middle of the room. It’s the only thing not covered in a sheet.

It’s the one thing I fear most in the world these days, but it’s also a fear I know I need to face.

It’s one of Aiden’s works, a portrait of me.

Grotesque and disgusting, it shows my body ravaged with knives and wounds, bleeding, decaying, while my eyes bore into the viewer, asking for help. In the bottom of the painting, there is an outline of another face, a mouth grinning wide like a Cheshire cat.

I look at it for a long time, and it surprised me that I’m not even scared of it. I’ve always feared it being in the house, and dreaded going up here for fear of seeing it.

I finger my scar, which has faded due to special creams and potions, as well as a surgery I had to remove it. It’s still there, and if I slide my fingers over it, I can make out the words Aiden carved in my skin.

I’m not done.

“Except, now you are,” I say out loud sadly, realizing this is finally my time to say goodbye to the past. Slowly, I reach for the canvas and turn it the other way around, moving the easel into the corner of the room. I pick a sheet from the ground and softly drape it over the easel, erasing my nightmare to existence.

I stand there for a while, until I can finally feel all my demons disappearing. Slowly, but surely, they scream and shout, but retreat to the dark corners in the attic, away from me and out of my mind.

I smile softly.

***

“What was that all about?” Blane asks me when I return downstairs.

“Nothing,” I say mysteriously, and this time, the smile I offer him is perfectly genuine. “It was … closure.”

He doesn’t ask for more information, realizing I’ve told him all I needed to. Instead, he hugs me close to his body and I listen to his heartbeat as we watch our daughter playing with her puppy.

Beat.

Beat.

Beat.

I can’t wait to tell him there’s another heart beating in my belly right this very moment.

THE END