My Cousin pt. 2 (Final)

I redress in silence. What had Samantha meant? I tried to figure out why she would go through all of this to teach me a lesson, but the gears in my head seemed to be stuck.

“Noah!” my aunt calls from the kitchen. I opened the door quickly. Uncle Nathan was sitting at the head of the table and Samantha was beside him, staring blankly at her food. I take mine beside Samantha since Aunt Silvia would usually sit beside my uncle.

“Tonight we have lasagna,” Aunt Silvia informed us and I was glad to eat something other than the tv dinners my mom would buy since she was too lazy to make an actual dinner. I grabbed my fork hurriedly and it dropped on the floor accidentally.

“Sorry,” I said reaching down to get it. The utensil fell to the right of me and I reach over to grab it and catch a disturbing sight. Uncle Nathan’s hand on sliding inside of Samantha’s shorts.. I grab the fork quickly and return to my spot. Sneaking a glance at Samantha in the process. I see her face is red and full of disgust. She’d done the same exact thing to me only worse and yet I felt sorry for her and decided I have to do something.

“Actually. I don’t think I’m feeling too well right now. It’s probably jet lag,” I lied. I didn’t exactly know what jet lag was, but had over heard my mom saying it on one occasion after a long flight.

“Can Sam and I eat later when my stomach is more stable?” I ask. I see Uncle Nathan almost say something, but Aunt Silvia is quicker.

“Of course sweetheart. Your food will be in the fridge whenever you’re ready to eat,” she smiles. Uncle Nathan eyes me as I stand and try my best to ignore him. Sam follows me subconsciously to her room and when I turn to leave she pulls me in with her.

“What are you doing?” I attempt to pull away, but she holds my arms behind my back.

“You saw didn’t you?” she doesn’t sound angry, but vulnerable.

“No I didn’t,” I shake my head feverishly.

“Don’t lie,” she loosens her grip and I turn to face her. No use in lying now.

“Why was he doing that?” I ask her. By the looks of it she didn’t seem to enjoy it. For the first time she doesn’t look like the girl who has tortured me for years and instead the cousin I had first met who smiled brightly. It wasn’t until I turned two that everything peaceful about her came to an end.

“Get out,” she finally says, adopting her usual tone.

“But-“

“Get out!” she says a little louder, but not loud enough for her parents to hear.