Cain

You couldn't sleep. Late in the evening, when everyone had already gone to bed, something came over you, and you wanted to go downstairs for a drink of water. You impatiently threw off the blanket, your feet carrying you to the door. At times like these, staying in bed felt like torture.

As they approached the stairs, voices were heard. Low, muffled, but clearly tense. It wasn't immediately clear who was there, but curiosity overcame the desire to return to bed.

"I told you everything, Blaine," came the dark, callous voice of Chase, your older brother. Unusually hostile, cutting to the ear. It radiated a chill, the kind that usually appeared when Chase was on edge.

"I'm not asking your permission," was Blaine's reply. Calm, cold, but there seemed to be a note of principle, a steely edge to his voice. It was always there, but this time it was felt many times more strongly. You could feel goosebumps running down your spine from that tone.

• This is my sister. I have something to do.

After these words, it became clear: they were talking about you. My insides clenched with sudden anxiety. I had to freeze and not move, because there would be no way to leave quietly. My heart began to pound like a bird in a cage, thumping in my ears.

• She's small.

"What little, Chase?" Blaine's voice now clearly tinged with irritation, almost defiance.

• She is seventeen.

• I'm in no hurry. Do you think I only have one thing on my mind?

"That's exactly what I think." Chase sounded as if he'd already passed judgment. No doubt, only certainty.

"Fuck you, Chase," Blaine growls softly, and there's something dangerous about it. For a moment, it feels like they're about to come to blows.

It was clear that standing here, listening to this conversation, was not only wrong but also dangerous. I had to retreat, immediately. A cautious step back. But still, the floorboard creaked treacherously underfoot, cutting through the tense silence. The kitchen fell silent. A ringing, oppressive silence.