After my younger brother, Chase, went to prison, I started dating his best friend. Three years later, Chase was about to be released. I overheard someone ask my boyfriend: "When Chase gets out, what gift are you planning to give him?" My young boyfriend, Ethan, dangled a USB drive in his hand. "How about 32GB of HD videos of his sister? Does that count?" 1 Laughter erupted in the VIP booth, sleazy and loud. "Damn, Ethan, you're a genius. I wondered why you hooked up with Chase's sister. Playing the long game, huh?" "If Chase finds out you've been using his sister like a toy, do you think he'll go crazy enough to end up back inside?" "I can't wait to see his face when he gets these videos." Inside, Ethan toyed with his phone, a lazy, mocking smile on his lips. He warned the group, "When Anna comes back, keep your mouths shut. If she finds out, you're all dead meat." "Relax, man. You've been plotting this for so long, we wouldn't ruin it for you. But hey, why don't you show us a preview? We're all curious about what Chase's precious sister tastes like." Standing outside the door, my mind went blank. The filth spewing from inside made my legs weak. "Miss? Are you looking for a room?" A voice pulled me back from the abyss. The waiter noticed my pale face. "Do you need help?" I shook my head, threw the birthday cake I was holding into the trash, and turned to leave. 2 Ethan was my boyfriend, and also my brother Chase's best friend. I first met him the summer after my freshman year of college. I was walking home from my part-time job when I was nearly assaulted. Ethan showed up just in time and saved me. Later, when Chase went to prison, Ethan found me and said my brother had asked him to take care of me. I didn't believe it. Chase and I were siblings, but we were like oil and water. Chase wasn't exactly a model citizen, so I figured his friends were trash too. Even though Ethan was technically my savior, I never gave him the time of day. But I didn't expect Ethan's "care" to persist for six months. He brought me three meals a day, rain or shine. When I got sick, he nursed me back to health, cooking porridge and buying medicine. I wasn't used to people being nice to me, and I certainly didn't want to be involved with Chase's crowd. No matter how many times I rejected him, Ethan pretended not to hear. Finally, when he secretly paid off my family's debts, I snapped. "What did Chase give you to make you act like his loyal dog?" "What if I told you he didn't give me anything?" I froze. Ethan's eyes were slightly misty, a bitter smile on his handsome face. "You guessed right. Chase didn't ask me to look after you. I did it because I wanted to. Anna... I've been planning to get close to you for a long time." That day, we started dating. Back then, I thought his "plan" was born out of love. Now I know it was just revenge against Chase. 3 My phone buzzed non-stop after I left the bar. Ethan's texts flooded in. "Where are you, babe? Why aren't you here yet?" "Need me to pick you up?" "Why aren't you answering?" Today was Ethan's 20th birthday. I had promised to celebrate with him. I even went out of my way to buy his favorite cake. I never expected such a "surprise." Looking at the messages, I strangely calmed down. "Something came up. I can't make it today. You have fun with your friends." Ethan seemed disappointed, sending a string of crying emojis. "I'll come find you as soon as I'm done here." When I didn't reply, he sent another text: "I love you, wifey." I stared at that sentence, spacing out. I realized that when sadness hits a peak, you lose the ability to feel emotion. My reaction now reminded me of the day my father died. Outside the morgue, everyone was crying. I was the only one calmly dealing with the hospital staff. My mother called me heartless, screaming that I didn't shed a tear for the father who adored me. I looked coldly at my mother, who had cried until she fainted, and wanted to ask: Or what? Should I just vent my emotions like you and ignore everything else? I exited the chat emotionlessly and was about to lock my screen when the phone vibrated twice more. A string of numbers I didn't recognize. "Released Monday, 6 AM." "Guard sent this for me." "Don't come if you're busy." "Don't reply." 4 Just a few dry sentences. Even without a name, I knew who it was immediately. How long had it been since I heard from Chase? The last time was three years ago, the night I was assaulted. I had rejected his calls, so his texts exploded like firecrackers on my screen. "Why didn't you tell me? Do you remember what he looked like?" "[Image Attachment]" "Is this him?" "Answer me! Are you mute?" I was impatient then. "What's the use of telling you? Can you kill him? Don't think I don't know these people came for you. Chase, if you still consider me your sister, stay away from me." After that day, Chase really stopped contacting me. The next news I got was a court sentencing document. Assault and battery. Three years and two months. I wasn't surprised. Chase was a delinquent; prison was inevitable. But I still went to see him before he was locked up. The boy in the inmate uniform had a depth in his eyes that didn't belong to his age. "It's just three years. Don't worry." I sneered. "Worry? I wish you were dead." This time, Chase didn't talk back. He smiled at me, hummed an acknowledgment, and said, "Good. Don't be scared." Time was up. The guard was taking him away. He stood up, walked two steps, then suddenly turned back. "Sis!" He looked at me and said his last words for three years. "Take care of yourself."
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