I don’t know how many times my parents paid to get him out of trouble, but I know they never had to with me. When he was sixteen, and I’d just turned fourteen, he’d done something to the neighbor’s daughter that had been the last straw for me.
Up until that point, I’d overlooked the petty bullshit he used to pull, like stealing my girls, lying to my friends about me so that they’d disappear from my circle, even trying to turn our parents against me with lies and made up shit.
But when I saw that girl torn and bleeding, I knew that he was more than the asshole I’d always thought, but something much-much darker. I’d lost a little bit of respect for my parents after that after they’d paid off the family to keep it hushed, especially after that poor girl ended up in an institution a few months later.
For the next four years, while I lived at home, I’d pretty much steered clear of him until he went away to college, where he got into even more shit. Everyone thought that once he got married years later that he’d settle down, but I knew the truth; that it was only my parents’ wishful thinking.
I was proven right when the phone calls and complaints started coming in. Even though he’d moved out of state, there were still people who knew the family and had kept us or me rather up to date with his dealings.
He was a sick twisted fuck who liked to hurt women for pleasure, something I don’t think she ever knew. Not until he was beaten half to death a year earlier by some guy for molesting his little sister who’d gone to work for the asshole. Or maybe she did and like my parents tried to hide it up.
Somehow I don’t think so though; she seems the type to be broken by something like that. It’s after I’d met her the second or third time after the wedding that I’d really noticed her. At first, I’d convinced myself that she must be like him if she’d married him, but the more I got to know her, the more I came to doubt my assessment.
The more I saw her, heard about her, the more I realized that she was yet another one of those things he didn’t deserve. I kept my growing feelings under wraps, she was my brother’s wife after all, and if I went after her, I’d be no better than he was his whole life, so I sucked that shit up and went on with my life.
I never once felt guilty though, it’s not like I made myself fall in love with her, or went out of my way to try to steal her from him, it’s just one of those things that happened. I didn’t even think about the family tradition, didn’t let any dark thoughts enter my mind where she was concerned, but there came a point where it was torture just seeing the two of them together at family gatherings.
Still, I told myself it would be worst than anything he’d ever done if I took my brother’s wife to my bed. So I started avoiding her as much as possible without alerting anyone else to the fact that I’d fallen ass over heels in love with the sweet shy girl whose smile seemed to have a direct link to my heart.
He and I were never that close, and I pretty much hated his guts, so no one made too much of a fuss when I’d beg off time and again with one excuse or another.
And then he got sick, something to do with his kidneys, which I swore he’d die before he got one of mine. But it never came to that because, by the time they found the problem, it was too far- gone. And now for the reason why I’d done things the way I did.
It was a phone call he’d made to me after the doctors told him he only had a year or less to live. I can still hear the smugness in his tone when he told me that he knew I wanted her and that he was going to make sure I never got her by getting her with child. The bastard was going to do that, knowing that he wouldn’t be around.
He should’ve kept that shit to himself because that’s when I’d put my plan in motion. I did all the research had even played around with bribing her doctor to inject some kind of contraceptive in her, but had nixed the idea once I realized that that was more along the lines of something he’d do.
I traveled far and wide to find what I needed, and knowing how much she loved plants had settled on the idea of the rare plant that had cost me a mint. I wasn’t sure of its potency, so while I was there, I’d picked up the thousand-year-old musk and had it made into perfume, something I know no woman can refuse.