Sinner’s Saint

For years, Alex was just my overprotective older brother. But the day I turned eighteen, everything changed. I blossomed, and he noticed. In me, he didn’t just see a sister—he saw an obsession.

It started in the shadows, with stolen glances and forbidden thoughts. Then it escalated to secret midnight visits, his desire a palpable presence in the dark. But jealousy is a dangerous poison, and when he saw another boy’s hands on me, his control shattered.

Our nights became a violent, desperate dance of possession and punishment. His angry words a litany of blame—You make me do this. It’s your fault I hurt you. But his roughness only fed a dark, twisted hunger in me. I started to crave his anger, to provoke his rage, just to feel the punishing intensity of his touch.

We were a secret, a sin hidden behind closed doors. We knew it was wrong, a sickness that had consumed us both. But in the wreckage of our family, with the world calling him a monster, I found my truth.

He wasn’t my ruin. He was my religion. And I would burn in hell with him if it meant I could be his.