Siblings with Benefits Ch. 37

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lovecraft68
lovecraft68
21,998 Followers

"Megan, I'm so sorry!" he whispered.

"Just go, Mark," I said quietly, not wanting to let him completely off the hook. "I'll be here when you get back."

"T...thank you, sis, I'll..."

"It's not okay Mark, it may never be again for us, but I promise, I'll stay here and I'll talk later."

Mark nodded into my shoulder and stayed there for a couple of minutes. I let him, fighting off the urge to hug him tighter and to let him hug me back. When I felt myself ready to cave, I let my hands fall from him. Taking the hint, Mark sat up and whispered, "Thank you, Meg really, I'll be at the office until around..."

"I said I'll be here Mark, just go, I..." I turned away from him before I finished. "I don't like being this close to you. Now go before I change my mind."

"Okay." Mark said and, getting up from the bed, walked slowly towards the bedroom door. He turned back to me and said softly; "I am sorry Megan."

"Not half as sorry as I am, Mark, I'm the one who trusted you all these years."

*****

I sat in my car across the street from Mark's office, and, bringing the pint of Captain Morgan to my lips, took a sip. As I did, I noticed an older couple standing by the car see me do it. As they continued to stare, I gave them a big smile, raised the bottle in a cheers gesture, and took another sip. The woman shook her head sadly, and the two turned and started walking. I could hear them in my mind saying things like, "What a shame," and "Too bad such a pretty girl"; these standards would always be followed by the classic, "I don't know what could be so bad that people do this to themselves."

This was spoken by people who had not been given up by their mother like an unwanted puppy, who had not been sexually abused for two years. People who had no idea what it was like to live with that gnawing emptiness where their soul should be. Certainly, they were people who had never been assaulted by their brother, and who now planned to get even, in a very fitting manner. On that note, I took a long swallow of my favorite liquor and found myself wondering if I could really pull this off. I nodded my head to convince myself that, yes, I could, and I had too. If I did not leave my brother broken and hating me, then I couldn't leave to make sure that I never hurt him, or anyone else who had cared about me, again.

I looked up as I saw a few more people leaving the office building and glanced at the dashboard clock; it was six-thirty. I would give it a few more minutes. Mark's firm officially closed at five, but I knew a few of the partners stayed a bit later. None, of course, stayed as late as my workaholic brother. Mark made it a point to be alone in the office at night so he could get more done and not have to deal with the other lawyers that he had nothing but disdain for. I have no doubt however, that tonight would have been different. Mark would have left as soon as he could to rush home to talk to me and try to make things okay between us. Which was why each of the three times he called me today; I assured him that I would be at his place when he got out.

I shook my head at the thought that my normally unflappable brother had been so worried about my leaving that he had called me on his home phone so he knew I was really still at his place. Even when I had told him that I was going to step out for an hour or so to see mom, he had called her house to ask if I were there. I was, of course; after all, how could I leave for good if I didn't go by and have one last cup of tea with my mother?

I put my head down and felt my eyes begin to fill up at the thought of mom. She had no idea I had screwed up again. I sat there across from her and did what I had done most of my life; I lied to her. Work was fine, Tommy was fine; yes, I was starting to paint again.

Raising my head, I brought the bottle quickly to my lips and took a couple of more swallows of rum. This was exactly what I needed to get away from.

I screwed the cap back on the bottle and put it under the seat. As much as I wanted to numb myself for what I was about to do, I had to at least make sure I was coherent enough to pull it off. Not just coherent, but cold enough. That, of course, would be where the packet of coke I had in my purse would come in handy. Looking down at my purse, I thought about its other contents and took a deep breath; I may have screwed up last night, but there would be no coming back from this. Reaching into the purse, I pulled out a pack of Marlboro's and, lighting one, leaned back in the seat; I would wait until seven, then call my brother.

As I took a long drag on the cigarette, I thought back to this morning and how close I had come to just leaving my brother to wallow in his guilt and do what I planned, and if Mark hurt himself afterwards, who cared? That had definitely been my mindset when, after falling back to sleep for a couple of hours, I had gotten up to use the bathroom. The pain was enough to make me whimper, and the sight of blood in the toilet afterwards sent my mind back to those hellish years with Frank. Before I knew it, I was on the floor in Mark's bathroom, sobbing like that poor, frightened, lonely girl I used to be. When I pulled myself together enough to get up, I immediately got into the shower and stayed there until the hot water ran out, desperately trying to wash the pain and humiliation away. By the time I got out of the shower, I knew what I needed.

Tossing the robe back on, I went out to the bar in the living room only to find that Mark had locked it. Going into the kitchen, I went in the cupboard where Mark kept his tools. Grabbing the hammer, I went back to the bar and, swinging as hard as I could, broke the lock off of the door. I didn't stop there; I kept swinging until I had knocked the door itself off the hinges. Grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels from the bar, I took several long swallows, trying to burn away the memory of last night. As I turned away from the bar, I spotted a picture of my brother and me on his end table.

It was the picture of us from the Christmas we had gone to my uncle Ray's. It was both our favorite. As I approached the picture, I felt a surge of rage go through me and, with a loud cry, smashed the picture with the hammer. There was another picture of Mark receiving his diploma from Suffolk.

"You hurt me!" I screamed as I swung and smashed that one as well.

At that point, I lost all control; I went around the living room, swinging at anything that caught my eye. I smashed the two karate trophies that Mark had on his mantel piece, as well as the framed photo of my brother, at eighteen, hoisting the state baseball championship trophy. Next was the photo of Mark with the RI Thunderbolts the year he joined. I paused to chug from the bottle again and shook my head in disgust. Everywhere I looked was the trappings of my brother's success. Success he would have never had without me. I meant what I had said last night; my brother would have been nothing without me, would have gone to a training school and, no doubt, at some point, gotten into serious trouble.

In fact, his crazy ass should have gone to jail for all but killing Max. Had I not gotten the police to come and talk him down, my brother would have finished Max and never had the life he had now. It wasn't fair! Mark had everything and I had nothing! We had promised each other that we would always stand by each other, stay with each other, but Mark had gone on to take whatever he wanted, and I couldn't even hold a fucking half-assed job at a department store. I should have been just as successful! I could have made it big with my painting, but I was messed up and needed help, needed my brother, but he always wanted someone else!

First, it was cute little Krissy, the girl next door who everyone loved, but who was no good for my brother. She was too sweet for him, couldn't give him what he needed, not like his nasty big sister could. I could have loved my brother as sweetly as she did and been his little whore! Then, when I got rid of her and had Mark all to myself, he ended up going with that red-headed slut, Cynthia! No, I stopped and shook my head, that wasn't true. I had sent him to Cynthia. I took another swig from the bottle and, with a cry of rage, swung the hammer into the screen of the television. Mark should have fought me harder that day I sent him to Cynthia, should have seen that I really wanted him. Instead, he couldn't run to her fast enough, couldn't wait to leave his fucked up sister to fall even further into disgrace.

"Fuck you, Mark!" I yelled as I hit the television again. "We'll see who leaves who now! See how you feel when you see what you made me do to myself!"

Putting the bottle down on the bar, I all but ran down the hallway and into Mark's bedroom. I planned on grabbing the clothes I'd left there, getting dressed, and leaving. I walked over near the bed and, looking up, saw my reflection in the mirrored headboard. I closed my eyes and when I opened them saw the brutal scene from last night, me screaming and begging for mercy, tears flowing down my terrified face. Behind me, my brother was smiling, smiling while I screamed, while he raped me.

I still had the hammer in my hand and, rearing back, swung it. The mirror shattered and, spinning, I ran over to the one over his bureau and smashed that one, as well. As I stood there panting, I looked up and, smiling wickedly at myself, drew my arm back and threw the hammer at the ceiling as hard as I could. There was a loud crack as the mirror spider-webbed, long lines zigzagging across it. A moment later, there was a crackling sound and I jumped back, as with a loud crash, half the mirror came down, huge pieces of glass landing on the bed and the floor.

My rage satisfied for the moment, I tossed the rob off and, grabbing the mini skirt and blouse I had worn last night, quickly got dressed. I went back to the living room and, as I picked the bottle up again, surveyed the carnage. Maybe breaking his things and smashing up his precious bedroom would make Mark angry enough to forget about me. I frowned. A minute ago, I had decided I didn't care if Mark felt guilty or not if I left. After all, considering what he had done to me, he deserved to suffer. I let out a deep breath and shook my head; now that my anger had passed, I started to think about it again. Mark had loved me and tried to take care of me. I couldn't leave him feeling responsible.

I swore out loud and tossed the bottle of Jack against the wall where it shattered. Why the hell couldn't I make up my mind? Well, honestly, it didn't matter; there was no way to make Mark angry now. There was nothing I could think of that would make him want to be rid of me after last night. I would just have to leave and hope he realized it hadn't been all his fault; after all, I had set him up to lose it on me last night.

I was getting ready to leave when I remembered that my brother usually kept a pretty good amount of cash in his desk in his office. I nodded to myself. Kill two birds with one stone; piss Mark off and have even more money to spend once I got to New York.

Knowing Mark kept the desk locked; I went back into the bedroom and, picking up the hammer, went into his office. As I had suspected, the desk was locked. It was a solid desk and it took me several minutes of desperate swinging to break open the middle drawer so the others would open. In the bottom left drawer, I found an envelope containing a little over a thousand dollars. Putting the money in my purse, I started to turn away from the desk when my eyes fell on the name plate that was on my brother's desk. I had bought it for him when he graduated from Suffolk and, rather than his name, I had it engraved "Lex Talionis."

Picking it up, I stared at the letters as, once again, the fog seemed to lift from my mind and an idea began to form. Lex Talionis, an eye for an eye, and part of the backbone of our beliefs. What had happened last night? Mark had hurt me and had done it by using my most painful memory and deepest fear against me He had hurt me the way I had been hurt as a child. If I were to get even with Mark, it would have to be just as traumatic, something that would be so devastating that he would hate me; the way I had said I hated him last night. I frowned, my brother wasn't me, there was no amount of pain that could.... I closed my eyes as it hit me. Physical pain wouldn't work with Mark, but fear would, and I knew exactly what my brother was afraid of.

I looked up as I heard my cell phone ringing. Going into the parlor, I grabbed it from my purse and saw it was Mark.

"Yeah?" I answered.

"Meg!" Mark sounded pathetically relieved that I had answered. "Are you still at my place?"

"I said I would be."

"I know but I..." he paused. "I wouldn't blame you if you left."

"Leave?" I asked. "No worries, little brother, trust me when I tell you that your big sister has every intention of making things right tonight."

At that last thought, I flicked the cigarette out of the window and glanced around to make sure there was no one near the car. Removing my compact from my purse, I opened it, exposing the packet of coke I had hidden in it. Not wanting to risk the time it would take to cut it into lines, I emptied white powder onto the mirror. I balanced it on my knee while I rolled up a ten dollar bill, then, bringing the compact up, I lowered my head and quickly sniffed up as much of the coke as I could. I raised my head, gasping, and then, catching my breath, finished it off. I dropped the ten and let my head fall back against the seat as the powerful drug entered my system. I swallowed hard as my heart began to pound.

A minute later, I smiled as I felt that delicious feeling of power coursing through my veins. Oh, yes, I was going to show my little brother once and for all that it was his big sister who called the shots. Grabbing my phone from my purse, I called Mark, who answered on the second ring.

"Everything okay Meg?"

"Couldn't be better, little brother." I said cheerfully.

"Where are you?" Mark asked. "Back at my place?"

"Nope, I'm downstairs."

"You're where?"

"I'm right outside your building Mark," I told him. "I got tired of waiting for you and decided to come see you."

"Oh, umm." Mark paused. "I was just finishing something up, give me a..."

"No, I'm coming up to see you Mark, you going to tell the guard downstairs to let me in?"

"Listen, sis, why don't we go back to...?"

"I'm sorry, Mark, but for some strange reason, I don't want to be with you at your place. You said you wanted to talk, I am here to talk. Unless of course, you don't want to, and I'll just leave."

Mark was silent for a moment, and then sighed.

"Okay, whatever you want, sis."

"Oh, good answer, little brother," I cooed into the phone. "You remember that when I come up there."

Mark was waiting for me when I stepped out of the elevator. He tried to put his arms out to me, but I quickly walked past him and headed for his office. As I walked, I was thrilled to see that the place was deserted, most of the lights were out, and all the doors were shut.

"All by your lonesome, little brother?" I asked.

"No, Jim's here. His office is at the other end of the suite."

"He's not going to bother us, is he?"

"No, I don't even think he knows I'm here."

"Good," I said as I walked into my brother's office, "I'd hate for us to be interrupted."

I walked over to Mark's desk where I put my purse, so that, to my brother's little surprise, it would be within easy reach when the time came. Mark came up behind me, and I felt his hand on my shoulder.

"Did I say you could touch me?" I asked coldly.

Mark removed his hand and, turning around, I walked past him and back across his office.

"Where are you going?"

Without answering, I went over to the door and thumbed the button on the knob to lock it. Turning around to face my brother, I smiled.

"Like I said, I don't want to be interrupted."

I slowly sauntered over to my brother, and smiled to myself as I noticed that despite the worried look on his face, his eyes dropped down to my long legs. Unlike yesterday, I wasn't dressed to attract attention, but the simple red sundress I was wearing was a bit on the short side. His eyes continued to trail downward to my feet, where they lingered on the red, high-heeled sandals I was wearing before making their way back up to my face.

"Like what you see, Mark?" I asked.

"I...I always do," he answered softly.

"Then why don't you take me?"

"I... well," Mark shrugged. "I mean, we need to talk, and I'm sure you wouldn't..."

"Wouldn't want to?" I made a disgusted sound. "That didn't stop you last night now, did it?"

Mark looked away and sighed."Meg, look..."

"Shut up, Mark," I said simply. "I talk, you listen, understood?"

Mark looked like he was going to say something, but instead simply nodded. I remained silent as I looked at my brother. His eye was open all the way, but the skin beneath was purple, the bruise on his cheek had also darkened since this morning, and his upper lip was even more swollen than it had been earlier. Letting my eyes wander down, I noticed that, like this morning, his tie was draped over his shoulders and his collar was unbuttoned. Lowering my eyes farther, I saw he was wearing a leather belt. Yes, this would work just fine.

"You hurt me last night, Mark," I began softly. "I know I pissed you off, but that was no excuse to do what you did to me." I shook my head. "None at all."

"Megan, I'm sorry!" Mark whispered. "I don't know what else to say. I..."

"There is nothing you can say," I told him. "Nothing you can say or do that could make me forgive you, Mark, nothing at all."

"I know I..."

I raised my hand and pressed my finger to his lips.

"I said shut up." With a smile, I deliberately pushed my finger into his swollen lip. "Understood?"

Mark winced, and then nodded.

"So if I can't forgive you, where does that leave us?" I put my hands out. "I suppose I could just do what I should, and that is walk away and never see you again. I mean, from some of the things you said last night, I think you might enjoy that, no?"

Mark shook his head, and I could see his eyes already starting to fill up.

"But that wouldn't be right, now, would it?" I shrugged. "So I asked myself, how could we make this right?" Reaching out I tapped his chest."So I thought what would my beautiful little brother do? What would you do if someone hurt you?"Reaching up with my right hand, I ran my long nails lightly down his cheek."Well, you would get even, of course!" I laughed. "Lex Talionis, right, Mark?"

"What are you...?"

"See what I'm getting at is this," I told him. "I can't forgive you. Really, I can't, and, knowing you, you wouldn't be able to forgive yourself. So what I figured is it will be just like the Game."

"The Game." Mark repeated.

"Yes, the Game," I nodded, smiling. "We each get a turn. You hurt me, so now, I get even, and then we forget it."

"Forget...?"

"We never talk about it again, little brother. We move on."

"But Megan..."

"No buts, Mark, you can take it like a man, and we move on, or you can be a coward and I'll just leave you alone." I sighed. "You're choice, little brother."\

"What are you going to do?"

"Oh, you have to pay to play Mark," I laughed. "But, like I said, up to you; you can give your sister, who you raped last night, a chance to get even, or you never see me again." I spread my arms out. "What's it going to be?"

"I..." He shook his head. "Megan, I can't do this here, I..."

"Take your shirt off," I told him.

"Megan, I..."

Mark stopped as, grabbing his chin in my hand, I pulled his face to mine so our eyes met.

Mark's eyes widened.

"You're high," he said. "You've been..."

lovecraft68
lovecraft68
21,998 Followers