How I Fell In Lust With My Conceited Half Brother [Sequel To HIFILWMPO]

How I Fell In Lust With My Conceited Half Brother

Prologue::

Zurie Lyn Kilgour's P.O.V

I woke up to my crappy Monday morning with shouting and somebody throwing stuff around. That somebody out in the living room was my godmother, Starr. Why was she throwing stuff around? Because she lost the vodka bottle I hid from her, even though it was almost gone anyways. But the reason she is taking care of me now, isn’t because my parents beat me or raped me or whatever pathetic thing you’re coming up with. My parents died five months ago, I’m only thirteen and I was at a friends’ house. You can imagine how I felt when I got home to police tape and sirens, right? Wrong, nobody knows how it feels.  I sigh after I hear her panting with rage, just like a dog. And if I wanted to get an hour more of sleep, I better go out there now.

“Starr, are you okay?” I question in a light voice as I walk to the living room. It’s the scene I’ve been living with ever since the news. Sure I spent the weekend after staying in the house, in total denial, until people coming around to get ready to put the house on the market came by and kicked me out. But it was the same brown and kicked around apartment, a trademark of Starr and Derek.

“What the fu . . .” Starr turns to me, her blonde hair in ragged cuts. I sigh deeply, she chopped her hair again. This was the second time in the past five months, and I was getting tired of explaining it to her in the short window of sobriety that happened whenever I came home. Every time I saw the short hair cut, it broke my heart. It reminded me how things are broken. It’d be wrong to blame Starr’s drinking on my parents, but she didn’t know how else to deal with it.

“You threw the bottle out, remember? Of course you don’t, come here.” I lied to her; it wasn’t like she would know any better. She stumbled over to me in a drunken haze, and I steadied her before she falls.

“ButIneedmore.” She says, all her words are meshed together and I can barely understand her, but I hear enough to tell her no way. “Yes.” She kept saying over and over again, and if I could, I would’ve put her to bed. But she’s not a baby, no matter how much she acts like it.

“It was your fault he left. I saw what you did with him.” Starr looked shockingly sober as she accused me of doing something wrong. It wasn’t very long after my parents passed with a bullet wound to both their skulls, they ruled it as a murder but they haven’t found any leads yet.

“What do you mean? He left because you became a nasty, disgusting, angry drunk.” I try not to shout at her, show her how much I’m tired of her drinking. But wouldn’t it be better if she knew what she was doing to me?

“No, you screwed him. And it got awkward and he couldn’t tell me, so he left. You guys did it in your room, on the floor.” I twisted my face up, what she was suggesting was wrong. Forget that I was a minor, but Derek treated me like the daughter he never had. Starr used to also, but I guess the bottle became her new BFF/daughter.

I was done fighting with her though; I knew what I was going to do. Starr took my silence as a challenge for whom to be in charge, so she basically growled at me and puffed up her chest. She was trying to look scary and instead she looked like exactly who she was; an angry drunk. I wasn’t the type of person to jump into any situation angry, especially before getting details, like my mother. So I guess that made me like my father, who knew when to smart up and just walk away. And walk away I did.

So that’s why, before anything else happened, I went in my room to call social services to tell on Starr.