---
I didn't cry when Mom remarried.
I didn't smile either.
Mostly, I just sat there—quiet, polite, perfect in a way that made people uncomfortable. I think that's what made him notice me. The man she married.
And more importantly…
His son.
He stood off to the side at the reception, in all black like he was mourning something. Maybe he was.
He didn't greet me.
Didn't offer a fake smile.
Didn't even look at me.
That was fine.
People like him are always the loudest in silence.
---
The first night in our new "family" home, I heard footsteps outside my door at 2 a.m.
They paused.
Then left.
I didn't move. Didn't breathe. Just stayed curled under the covers, pretending to sleep.
But my eyes were open.
---
He watched me for weeks without speaking.
At school, at the dinner table, in the hall.
The only thing he ever said directly to me came the day I wore red. Blood red. Not accidental.
"You like attention?" he asked in the hallway.
I flinched. "No."
He stared at me, dark eyes unmoving. "Could've fooled me."
I dropped my gaze like a good girl. Like someone scared of him.
But when I turned away…
I smiled.
---
I started talking to a boy at school.
His name was Liam. Sweet. Oblivious. Safe.
He asked for my number. I gave it. He texted me. I laughed. I made sure my stepbrother could hear it.
I didn't realize he was behind me at my locker when I hugged Liam goodbye.
Or maybe I did.
That night, there were footsteps outside my door again. Longer this time. Closer.
And then… nothing.
---
Liam wasn't in class the next day.
The teacher called his name twice.
Silence.
I raised my hand and asked to use the bathroom. My hands shook just enough for someone to think I was nervous.
In the hallway, I leaned against the cold tile wall and exhaled.
He had taken the bait.
But they didn't know that.
No one did.
Not yet.