Tori tries to engage me a few more times, but I’m not falling for it. She does seem pretty fun, though. We tag-team a bunch of morons on Reddit, and by the end, I’m actually crying with laughter. Yeah, it’s cruel, but it feels so good, and to have someone on your side makes it all the sweeter. I haven’t reached for a second Mars bar all evening, which is a first. Maybe having Tori around might be a good idea after all.
Around nine, I go downstairs to get a drink. Mum is mindlessly watching some crappy police procedural on TV. She gives me a sluggish smile when I enter the living room and doesn’t even try to hide the glass. I try not to frown. She knows she shouldn’t drink, given her medication. But, hey, who am I to judge? I shouldn’t chain-eat chocolate, but I do. Whatever gets you through the day, right?
I sit with Mum until she starts dozing off. I take the glass from her hand, cover her with her blanket, and go into the kitchen. Dirty dishes festoon every surface.
“Brad!”
I pause.
“Bradley!”
No answer. Not even a grunt. I stomp to the bottom of the stairs.
“Bradley! Mum said you were supposed to do the dishwasher!”
As per usual, a “Fuck off!” floats out of Brat’s room.
Every step I take up the stairs reverberates around the house. There’s no lock on his bedroom door. Back in the day, Mum and Dad wouldn’t have it—In our house, we have an open door policy, like we were a business rather than a family. I don’t bother knocking, just burst into his room.
“Bradley, Mum said—oh for fuck’s sake.” I try to cover my eyes with my hands, but too late. “You know you shouldn’t be watching that—”
“Beth! Fuck off! Just fuck off! Get the fuck out!”
He flings a stained pillow at me. I manage to duck just before it hits me.
“Yeah, well, I don’t care. You’ve got to do the dishwasher. Mum said. Unless you want me to tell her you’re too busy watching porn to help her?”
He gives me a really filthy look, the kind of look only a fourteen-year-old seems to be able to pull off. I know threatening to tell Mum is a low blow, especially given how unable she is to actually deal with the situation, but what choice do I have? I’m not going to wait on him hand and foot.
“You’ve got half an hour. If you don’t, I’ll text Dad and tell him, too.”
Brat’s face turns stony, and inside, I feel a little lift. Pulling out the big guns. Aww yeah.
Mum’s the blackmail, but Dad’s the real threat; despite his shitty parenting (or lack of parenting, to be more precise), Brat worships our father and I know exactly how to exploit that.
After he stomps off to the kitchen, I linger a moment. It feels weird, being in here. Years ago, Brat and I were always in and out of each other’s rooms, half playing, half deliberately annoying each other. Not anymore. Now we’re strangers living under the same roof.
I pick up his tablet and resume the clip he’s been watching. It’s pretty tame, to be honest. I’ve seen worse on 4Chan. Still fills me with revulsion, though. Revulsion . . . and something else, something pink and quivery. Were those girls coerced into doing that, I wonder? What would it be like to have that done to you? To do it to someone else? I shake my head, turn the clip off, and fling the tablet back on his bed. It stinks in here. Remind me to make him open his windows in the morning.
I don’t bother going back downstairs to check on him. Doing that would just lead to an argument and blah, blah, blah, so I wander back to my room. I’m a bit ashamed to admit that I’m wondering if Tori’s messaged me again. I mean, I know it’s weird—I shouldn’t care!—but it feels kind of good to have someone in your corner.
Yep. There she is. A DM is waiting for me, with one word in it.
D1ckle55wonder
Curious, I fire up Instagram and sure enough, there’s D1ckle55wonder, causing absolute chaos. The handle makes people think it’s an ironic name for a teenaged boy, and she’s playing that persona to a tee. I’m amazed at how well she handles it—and I find myself feeling glad she’s on my side. With it comes a little twinge of doubt. Maybe all of this is too good to be true. Am I being trolled? Maybe Tori is really good at this. Maybe she’s better than I am—
Nope. I can’t think like that. I am an undisputed queen when it comes to this kind of shit. More like she’s seen what I’m capable of and wants to be on my good side. Yeah. That makes much more sense. All Hail Queen MidnightBanshee. And Queen SharkKrawler9. And King FlounceyPouncey. And . . .
More pings. Another DM is waiting. The twinge has gone now; I think I’m actually excited to see what Tori has to say. She’s praising me for how I set those morons up. I can feel her enthusiasm rolling off the screen. She’s really enjoying herself, and it’s all thanks to me.
I know it sounds weird, but that actually feels pretty good. I give her another lol, but that’s it. Well, no point in being too eager, eh? If there’s one thing porn has taught me, it’s the importance of playing hard to get.