Page 63 of Tangled Desires

“Oh, you do,” I retort, grabbing a glass of water. “Loud enough to wake the fucking dead.”

“Well, you sleep talk, so I guess we’re even,” he counters, grinning.

I freeze. “Bullshit.”

“Uh-huh.” His smirk grows. “Through the wall. Heard it all.” He clears his throat and puts on the worst impression of me I’ve ever heard. “‘Oh, Harrison, I love you and your big pierced cock.’”

“Get fucked!” The glass hits the counter with a sharp clink, but I can’t even muster the full force of my outrage because—of course—my cheeks betray me, heating up like a fire. “I do not.”

“Oh, you do, Immy-girl,” he laughs, leaning back like he’s waiting for applause. “It’s cute.”

“Yeah, well, at least I don’t sound like I’m letting off a fucking symphony loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood.”

His laugh erupts, shaking the couch. “Now that’s just mean. Say you’re sorry.”

“Not a chance.”

“One...” His grin turns wicked. “Two…” He’s already moving. “Three!”

His hands latch onto my sides, tickling me like a fucking maniac. I shriek, flailing, smacking at his hands. “Harrison, you idiot—”

Michael walks in mid-chaos. “Well, isn’t this cosy?” His eyebrows shoot up, and he heads for the fridge, shaking his head. “Look at you two lovebirds, all cosy. That’s cute, all hugging and shit.”

Harrison, not missing a beat, lunges for him. “Aw, jealous, Mikey? Come here!”

“Oh, get fucked.” Michael shoves him off, glaring as he grabs a beer. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving.” I glance between them, already dreading whatever disaster the two of them are about to cook up.

21

if only you knew - Alexander Stewart

Mum shoved us in here hours ago. She said to keep quiet, not to make a single noise, and then she locked the door. The room is dark, with only that little lamp in the corner giving off a small light.

We always leave the lamp on. Always.

Michael’s been crying for ages now, rubbing his tummy and sniffling, and I can’t hold it anymore. I gotta go toilet real bad. I bang on the door, softly at first. “Mum? Please? Michael’s hungry, and I gotta go to the toilet!” Nothing.

I bang louder, fist hitting the door harder, voice getting louder, too. “Hello!” Michael cries louder, clutching his belly. Ishout again, banging hard that my fist starts to hurt.“LET US OUT!”

The door swings open so fast I stumble back.

Dad walks in and he looks angrier than ever. His eyes look dark and very mean lookin’. “Shut the fuck up. Can’t yer’ hear we got guests, you little shit?” He grabs my shirt, lifting me like I’m nothing. Michael keeps crying, curled up on the floor, holding his belly. I take a breath.

“Please, I gotta go to the loo, and Michael’s hungry.”

“Shut the fuck up, y’mum fed yer both. You don’t need nothin’,” he says, the cigarette in his mouth moving up and down. “Here, piss ‘n that,” he adds, shoving the empty glass bottle in his hand toward me.

But I don’t need to do a wee. I gulp, voice trembling, “Please, I gotta…”

He yanks me closer by my hair. “This’ll ought to shut you up.” He takes the cigarette from his mouth and ashes it on my arm. It’s hot—burning. I scream, loud, tears springing up before I can even hold them back. Michael screams with me, and Dad shoves me back so hard I hit the ground with an ‘oof’.

“Shut him up or he’s next,” he growls, slamming the door behind him. I can’t move for a second, the pain still burning, but then I’m next to Michael, arms around him, whispering in his ear.

“Shhh, shh. It’s okay. He’s just playing. Just a game.” Michael sniffles, his tiny fists clenched up against my chest, still breathing fast. “If you stop crying, Mum’ll bring food. Just wait, she’ll bring it soon.”

“Soon? You promise?”

I nod, ignoring the pain coming from my arm. “Yeah. But you gotta be quiet, ‘kay? If you stay quiet, you’ll get some food.” He hiccups, then nods, cuddling closer, and finally, finally stops crying.

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