AN This is really short but I wanted to keep my word.
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I take back what I said about Opal; she's a bitch. Only to me, though. When she's around Damien, she acts like a complete angel, the portrait of sainthood. I want to tell Damien that he's with a she devil, but I can't bring myself to ruin his relationship. So instead, I'm here, listening to my brother fuck her every night, knowing that she's the living reincarnation of the devil himself, unable to do anything about it. It's infuriating.
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Maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe it isn't that bad. Maybe I'm just being sensitive. But even if I am, she's still way out of place. Or maybe... maybe I'm the one who doesn't belong, being a third wheel. I know that that isn't a realistic spin on things. I know that it's just my insecurities talking, but I can't help but not feel at home in my own home anymore.
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Whenever we're alone, she says something rude, like mocking my eyes, or accusing me of not being a hospitable hostess when I finish the cereal, my fucking cereal, might I add, or saying that she doesn't know how Damien puts up with me, just now. I start crying when she says that, unable to ignore her or pretend that her words have no meaning to me anymore. The small kitchen feels both too hot and too cold at once, and I feel completely alone. Damien walks into the room at exactly that moment, she looks as if she's seen a ghost.
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"What's going on here?" he asks, his eyes looking both exhausted and highly perceptive at the same time. I try my best to lie convincingly, not wanting to be a burden.
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"It's just PMS," I tell him, but I can tell that he's not buying it. Still, he nods his head, before eyeing Opal wearily. I just know that he'll confront me about it later, but for now, I'll just have to hide in my room.
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The next day at school, I end up staying after school with William in the study room. He seems to be determined to do well, even though he's bad at it, and I appreciate his effort, even though I wouldn't mind doing it alone. I explain to him once more how activation energy, something we did in unit 1, works, but he just doesn't seem to be getting it.
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"I never got this," he grumbles. "I just hoped that it wouldn't turn up on the exam. I don't even remember if it did, and I don't even know how I got a three. Swore I failed that shit."
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I can definitely relate to that feeling of feeling as if you've done worse than you actually have.
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"Well," I say, looking at how neatly ironed his green uniform shirt is, "I'm glad that you're trying. I will work with you as long as you try."
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The rest of the school day is relatively uneventful. I eat lunch alone, as usual, and then I go home at the end of the day, with the foul odour that I can't seem to get used to stifling me on the bus. I feel butterflies in my stomach just thinking about facing Opal again, and they aren't the good type of butterflies. They're the type of butterflies that make you want to puke, emptying your stomach all over the living room carpet. She probably won't try anything after what happened yesterday, but I can't shake the feeling of anxiety that I have just thinking of being under the same roof as her. Putting the key in the keyhole has my hand shaking with anxiety, and it's not fair that I have to feel this way in my own house. As I walk through the door, I see Damien sitting on the couch, alone. I sigh in relief. The dark, heavy curtains are drawn, and the room is dimly lit as I close the door behind me.
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"Where is Opal?" I ask.
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"Why didn't you tell me that she was bullying you?"
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"What?"
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He sighs deeply.
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"I know the truth. We spoke this morning, and I told her I knew that you were both hiding. I convinced her to tell me what transpired before I walked into the room, and she said that she told you she didn't know how I put up with you."
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"So where is she now?"
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"I told her to get the fuck out of my house."
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I'm partially glad that she's gone, but I'm also upset that he has given up his happiness.
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"You shouldn't give up your happiness for me," I say.
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"You're my little sister," he insists, "and this is your house, too. How dare she come here and do that?"
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I'm glad that my brother is picking up for me, but even as he gets up from the couch and comes over to hug me, I can't deny the guilt that consumes me.
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