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Meeting my stepsister

RYAN

I was on the basketball court when Dad called, informing me about the arrival of his new family. I have been fuming ever since he told me two weeks ago about the impending marriage. Itā€™s been just the two of us since Mom died three years ago.But recently, heā€™s seemed oddly cheerful and relaxed. When I asked him what had changed, he casually mentioned a new woman in his life.

The most frustrating part? This woman has a daughter who attends the same school as me. My real purpose for going to school today was to find out who my step sister was, and now I know.

ā€œTake your seatā€Dadā€™s new wife, Lisa instructed her daughter who had been staring at me like I was a ghost. Finally, she tore her gaze away and scurried to her seat like a little mouse caught in the headlights.

Little mouse

A cold smirk curved my lips.

I glanced over at Violet, her discomfort palpable. I wasnā€™t in the mood for small talk or forced family bonding. The idea of having two more people in my space, especially ones I didnā€™t know or care to know, was already overwhelming

Dad and Lisa tried to make the evening pleasant, but their attempts were futile. It was obvious neither of us was thrilled about the arrangement.

The food was decent enough, but I focused on eating rather than the strained conversation around me. My main concern was finishing dinner and retreating to my room.

ā€œSo, Violet,ā€ Dad said, trying to bridge the gap ā€œI hope you and Ryan can get along. Itā€™s important that we all feel like a family. It shouldnā€™t be that hard since you attend the same school, right?ā€

I glanced at Violet, who was awkwardly fiddling with her utensils. I shrugged casually, giving a brief nod in her direction. ā€œYeah, sure.ā€

My tone was dismissive, and I could tell it stung. The dinner continued with strained conversation and awkward pauses.

When the meal was finally over, I wiped my mouth with a napkin and stood up

ā€œIā€™m heading to my room. Iā€™ve got stuff to do,ā€ I announced and walked out of the dining room not bothering to wait for a response.

I pushed open the door to my room and slammed it shut behind me, trying to shut out the chaos that had just erupted in my life.

I walked over to a bookshelf in the corner of my room and pushed a button. The bookshelf swung open, revealing a small,dimly lit room.

This was my sanctuary. No one knew about this room,not even my dad. It was there I came to escape,to paint and to forget

It was simple and orderly with a few framed sketches hanging on the walls. No one knew about my painting. It has been my way of dealing with things ever since I was a kid. It started after the traumatic incident I've never spoke about,the incident that changed my whole life

I sat in front of the easel and began to paint . My hand moved, dipping the brush into dark hues of blue and black. Each stroke was a release,an attempt to turn the overwhelming feelings into something tangible.

Painting was how I managed my frustration. Each brushstroke helped me deal with the emotions that I couldnā€™t put into words

I soon lost myself in the process. The world outside my room faded away,replaced by the swirling colors on the canvas. No one would ever see these paintings - if they did, they'd know how deeply troubled and messed up I was. It was safer this way,to keep this part of me concealed and locked away.

Hours passed before I set the brush down,the canvas was now covered in a chaotic mixture of colors and shape and like that,my frustrations had almost eased.

I left the room and trudged to my bathroom allowing the cold water to wash away every remnant of frustration in me. I walked out of the bathroom minutes later feeling more refreshed and alive.

I flopped onto my bed, trying to catch some sleep, but my phone buzzed with a string of incoming texts. I picked it up and saw a series of messages, mostly from women Iā€™d had encounters with.

Rachel: ā€œHey, handsome. Canā€™t stop thinking about you. šŸ˜˜ā€

Rachel? I didnā€™t remember her clearly. Was she the blonde from the party last week or the brunette from the bar a few days ago?

Tiffany: ā€œI had a great time with you. Can we do it again sometime?ā€

The name sounded familiar, but I couldnā€™t place her. Was she the girl from the basketball game or the one from Jakeā€™s party?

Jessica: "Ryan,I know you said you weren't looking for anything serious but I have to admit, I'm falling for you.

And that made me chuckle. Falling for me? That was rich.

I remembered her clearly,my classmate who had practically thrown herself at me begging for attention. I remembered the school bathroom where she pushed me against the wall begging me to fuck her. I had gone along with it,of course,I was bored and she made it convenient. But serious? Please.

I shook my head, chuckling to myself. These girls were something else.

Messages like these continued to flood in, each one asking for another night or praising my looks saying they'd kill for me.

A wave of disgust washed over me. I hadnā€™t even thought about these women. I used them for my own pleasure, and now they were expecting more. The truth was, once I slept with them, I was done. Completely. No lingering thoughts, no second chancesā€”just a clean break up

I was about to toss my phone aside when another message popped up. It was from Evelyn

Evelyn : ā€œšŸ‘šŸ‘ā€

I knew what those cherries meant too well. I hesitated for a moment,tempted to ignore her, but on a second thought,I replied, telling her to pull over at our usual spot.

Evelyn was the only exception. She somehow managed to measure up to my standards, and thatā€™s why I hadn't gotten rid of her...yet

I stood up from the bed and grabbed a black hoodie and jeans.

After all, easing the last bit of frustration left in me didnā€™t seem like such a bad idea.

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