Dylan pressed me down on the bed, his otherwise soft hands suddenly rough. I tried to breathe but it was still erratic, still labored – I was still close to tears. I had been so fucking worried, and that alone scared the hell out of me. How the heck had I let him in so far so soon? How could he have me wrapped so tightly around his little finger?

I groaned as he pulled up my t-shirt – finding my skin underneath. His tongue and lips caressing me, stealing my thoughts. I wanted to forget. I wanted to let go.

"Zach, tell me if you want me to stop, okay?"

I didn't want to listen. I just wanted to feel – so I didn't answer. He didn't understand. He stopped...

I whined, and tugged at his hair, pushing him into my body again, driving him closer. That did the trick. He went back to work, creating a sense of peace, a place for just the two of us. A place where no one else was welcome. I took a deep breath and relaxed against his touch. I let him take charge completely and nothing had ever felt better, calmer.

He was both my anchor and the storm.

His palms found my heaving chest, and all I wanted was to get him even closer, feel more of him. Feel less of everything else.

I didn't want to open my eyes, but when he started to unzip me they suddenly flew open by themselves – bulging when I saw the blazing heat in his eyes. He looked straight at me, focused only on me. I gripped the sheets and my head fell back, a moan leaving my lips as he kissed along the hem of my briefs. I was so freakishly sensitive there – to the point where I couldn't lie still. My hips began to gyrate but he just chuckled and continued. Relentless in his plan to drive me off the edge...

Suddenly his touch was gone and I opened my eyes again, seeing him hovering over me, putting his hands on my pants – pulling them off in a swift tug. He dropped them on the floor and fell on top of me again, kissing me senseless with his soft but demanding lips and I got lost in the sensation and didn't let go of that feeling until we were lying in a heap on the bed – panting and relishing in the post-coital glow.

I had never ever thought that it would feel like that. I had never thought that it would feel good. I had definitely thought that this was a one-time thing, that I would never submit to Dylan like that ever again, but now I wasn't so sure.

"How are you feeling?" he asked tentatively.

I grinned slowly, the smile taking time to form, but it didn't seem to matter. He kissed me in response, snuggling into my side – his skin as damp and hot as mine.

"Do you want to tell me?" he asked against my neck.

His question set of an array of thoughts shooting back and forth in my mind, jumbling around without making any sense at all. I didn't know if I wanted to tell him. I had never told anyone about it. I had never told my parents what Clara had told me, what she had told me even if she knew I shouldn't have heard her story while so young. I hadn't understood. I hadn't been enough to support her. To her defence she hadn't meant to tell me. I'd read her diary – sneaky little brother. Then I had asked her and she had broken down, crying for hours and hours – begging me to not tell anyone.

"Hey, calm down, you don't have to tell me..." Dylan mumbled softly, and that's when I realized I was shaking in his arms.

"I was eleven when it happened. She was fifteen. So young. Of course then I thought her old. The way younger children look upon those who are older... She told me, afraid to get in trouble she told her little brother why she was so scared all the time, why she couldn't sleep. She told me I couldn't tell mum and dad. She made me swear on it."

I broke into tears. My body heaving with uncontrollable sobs. I had never told anyone – but now I did. I broke my promise.

"I swore..."

"Zach, I'm sure she wants you to get this off your chest. I don't think she meant this for you."

I realized that it didn't matter. I had to tell someone. I had to tell someone what had happened, and why she had killed herself. Mum and Dad never understood. They never got to know the reason why she decided to leave us so they blamed themselves for not seeing...but it wasn't their fault. It was those monsters. It was all on them.

"In a way I'm glad that I read her diary, that she was forced to tell someone. Otherwise, no one would have known. She didn't even write a letter before she killed herself. She just did it. I keep wondering if it was my fault. My fault for not telling our parents. Her death was so useless."

I silenced. I couldn't form the words. For a while, everything was silent, even my mind. Dylan began to stroke his hand over my chest in soothing circles.

I sighed, and with it came another stream of words. "I remember Mum's cries when they found her in the morning. Clara was already gone. She had stolen Mum's sleeping pills, emptied the entire bottle. I know they didn't want me to see it, but I ran inside, gripping her shoulders – shaking and shaking for her to wake up. I screamed in the end, and Dad had to pull me out of there. They locked me in my room... I know they just wanted to get me out of there, but to this day I don't think I've ever forgiven them for that. I felt so useless in there, so trapped. Since then we're just one fucked up family."

"I'm so sorry Zach," he said, his voice thick with tears. I looked at him and I saw fat drops streaming down his cheeks. I wiped them off and pulled him closer to me. Letting my nose dive into his hair, calming down with the help of that scent that was his alone. A scent reminding me of a forest just after a rain.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," I replied. However, his words made me feel less alone.

"I'm just...it's a lot...sorry," he continued.

"I shouldn't have laid this on you, I'm the one who should be sorry."

"No! No, I didn't mean it like that. I just, it's a lot to take in and I don't think I'm saying the right things. I don't know how to..."

I hushed him, putting my lips to his.

"You don't need to say anything. I just want you to be here when I'm done."

"Of course I'll be!" he answered, seemingly appalled that I had even thought about him leaving.

I hugged him closer again, feeling his heartbeat next to my chest. It felt good. He felt good, and for some reason that made me feel a whole lot better than I had thought I would.

"I just wished I could have saved her."

"Zach, you were eleven..."

"Yeah, but I'm not eleven now... and I still haven't done anything to get back at those bastards. I haven't told anyone, I have let them threaten me. I let them threaten you!"

"Well, why do you let them get away with it?" he asked, and one part of me just wanted to shout back at him, scream at him for saying that. He was calling me a coward...but it would be unfair to take it out on him. I had asked myself the same question so many times – stalling, making excuses.

"I'm not letting them anymore. I won't let them!" I said, my voice suddenly raging with all the pent up anger. I wouldn't let them!

"So, how are we going to do this?" he asked while calming me with his touch once more.

"I don't know. I'll have to gather some evidence and go to the police."

"What do you have?"

"Her diary. Her computer. Perhaps there is something there."

"Then let's start with that. We'll find a way. Are you going to tell them?"

"Tell who?"

"Your parents..."

"Yeah, that will be one fucked up mess for sure."

"Do you want me to be there?"

"No, I think I better do it myself."

"I'm here for you though. Just call or text, or come over."

I looked at him, seeing his soft caring smile. I didn't really know how this had happened. How this guy had barged into my life and ripped me open like this. I kissed him, and for the first time ever I didn't feel like a broken lifeless thing. I felt alive, and perhaps someday I would feel whole too.