Page 12 of Cruel Steps

The dormant butterflies fluttered, their wings waking after months of rest at the renewed sense of hope.

Wait…

Fuck…

Then butterflies crashed back into the ground.

The guy I’d been obsessing over after spending the most perfect night with wasn’t just Hope’s brother. Nope, it also made him my step-brother.

The small amount of strength I’d gained over the past two years crumbled to smithereens.

Hope was a cruel bitch.

CHAPTER

FIVE

EMERSON

My dad stood and walked over to Rose, kissing her before pressing a peck on Hope’s cheek. She beamed at my father, and rage bubbled within. Hope had taken so much from me, but I wouldn’t let her have this.

My dad wrapped his arm around Rose’s waist, and the three of them stood side-by-side in a picture of perfection.

They fit together.

Looking down, I couldn’t help but compare myself. I was the before image—the frumpy daughter with undetermined stains on her clothes, stringy hair that hadn’t seen a brush in days, and never said no to dessert her whole life.

They were the after—the put-together family, sleek and stylish. The type to do charity races in matching shirts for fun!

I didn’t belong. Not Hope.

The fight left me, and uncertainty engulfed me. Would he really pick me over love? I wanted to believe yes, but looking at their smiling faces, I was no longer confident.

“Lunch is ready,” Rose said, and my dad turned to me, his smile dropping at my attire. I cringed, and shame for embarrassing him heated my cheeks. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t known of their arrival or that appearance had never been necessary before. My dad had never been embarrassed by me, so to see him battle to find words filled me with utter mortification.

“I should change,” I mumbled, hoping to save some dignity by not having him ask me.

“Yes, that’s—” my dad started.

“Nonsense. I love how Emmy doesn’t care about her appearance one bit. Don’t change on our behalf,” Hope said, her voice sickeningly sweet.

Rose and my dad melted, hearing what they wanted and not how she’d decimated my self-confidence with a few simple words.

That was the thing about Hope. She struck with veiled threats and comments. Heard back, they never sounded as vicious as they were, so she remained innocent. Then, when I had something legitimate, no one believed me. It was debilitating to constantly be reminded of how invisible and worthless you were.

“Regardless, I want to change,” I whispered, staring at the patio.

“Hope’s right,” Rose cut in. “The food’s getting cold, so we might as well eat.”

I glanced at my dad, urging him to step in, but he only had eyes for Rose.

“It’s settled. Let’s eat.”

He turned and entered the house with Rose, the two making lovey-dovey faces at one another. Hope’s face morphed into the one I knew best the second they were gone—a sneer. She marched toward me, stopping at the edge of the pool bed, and towered over me, reminding me of my place beneath her.

The exact moment my life had changed from a mediocre existence to an utter living Hell was one I’d never forget. That was the thing about tragedy; it followed you around like a dark cloud, tinging everything it touched. All my good moments could be sorted into one column: the before, and everything else into the after.

And the person featured the most in the after… Hope Adler.

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