THE FIRST STEP
“No one is coming to save you, Aunt Margaret. You’re mine, and you’re going to pay with your body for every single moment you stepped on me…”
I already knew exactly what I was going to do before the Uber even stopped in front of the house. I had planned it and repeated it step by step in my head — every chance, every variable, every probability. That redheaded bitch was going to eat every single word she had ever thrown at me, even if it meant my soul getting damned to hell.
The house was a mess. Three open suitcases on the floor, Paris tickets scattered across the center of the table, my mother’s floral perfume flooding the air. “Family problems,” “we’re going to take a new step in the process of grandma’s inheritance,” “only we need to be there in person,” blah-blah-blah… I had heard it so many times I had the lines memorized. What really mattered was one thing only: they were going to disappear for three whole weeks.
It would have been the perfect chance to enjoy the solitude at home — fry an egg naked at three in the morning, stay up all night gaming and drinking, bring a few girls over for a good hard fuck… perfection. But it was never going to be like that. My parents didn’t trust me to stay home alone under any circumstances, so they always had the same idea: Aunt Margaret.
Every time they traveled I ended up at Aunt Margaret’s house. I wouldn’t have complained in other cases. But that woman was a fucking piece of shit in human form. If she had ten free chances a day to humiliate me for nothing, she would take all ten. It had always been that way, and it always would be. It filled me with a bitter, rancorous hatred. Her words hurt, and I never really understood why she was so vicious with me. “You’re a half-assed excuse for a man,” “you’re a fucking disappointment,” “I don’t know how my sister gave birth to such a useless son,” “why the fuck are you staring? You disgusting pervert,” “I bet you jerk off thinking about me, you make me sick” — and it only got worse from there. On top of that she used me like a slave for work. I got tired of complaining to my parents because they never took me seriously. Even in the moments when she cut me down right in front of them, they just laughed like it was funny.
But not this time. I had already decided and I wasn’t going to back down. I had the perfect plan to get even with that alcoholic piece of shit.
Zolpidem.
That medicine is great for sleeping, but mix it with alcohol and it becomes a bomb. I saw it myself the day my mother — who takes it regularly for insomnia — insisted on drinking a glass of wine after taking it. The poor woman was out cold the entire day; we were almost calling the emergency room when she finally woke up.
And that was it. Aunt Margaret lived on alcohol, drunk most of the day. Two or three crushed pills in her wine and it would be done. She would be mine in whatever way I wanted.
I had already hidden a full bottle of my mother’s Zolpidem in the inner pocket of my jacket the night before. Perfect for Aunt Margaret.
“So everything’s settled, Lucas. Margaret is already expecting you.”
My father’s words hit me, but this time it wasn’t a punch. It was just confirmation. I was already expecting it. Already accepting it. Already prepared.
“Dad, come on…” I tried the usual protest, just so I wouldn’t raise suspicion. Voice a little high, arms crossed against the doorframe. “I’m already eighteen. I can stay by myself. I’ll take care of the house, pay the bills, no parties. I swear.”
My father didn’t even look up. He kept pulling the zipper on the suitcase.
“We’ve already talked about this. You’re still irresponsible. Last week you left the gas on.”
“It was one time. I learned. Mom trusts me!”
My mother appeared with the leather toiletry bag in her hand. The look was the same as always: everything already decided, I was just a detail.
“Lucas, sweetheart, Aunt Margaret offered her house. It’s better this way. She lives alone, there’s space. You need supervision. Oregon isn’t that far from here. The house is peaceful. You’ll be fine.”
“Peaceful.”
The word still made me nauseous — only I knew what a fucking nightmare it was to stay with that inhuman thing. But now it was different. I wasn’t going as the tame nephew. I was going with a clear objective in mind.
