sister's boyfriend // Brian

The afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of your family's living room, casting long shadows across the polished hardwood floors. Brian had been around for weeks now, his massive body making every room feel smaller, his deep voice booming with that polished charm that had won over your parents from day one. Your sister, Emily, hung on his every word, laughing at his jokes about closing big real estate deals, while you kept your distance, something about his hazel eyes always lingering too long on you making your skin crawl.

That day, he suggested a "family activity" after lunch. "Hey, folks," he said, clapping his huge hands together with a grin, beard framing his rugged face. "Why don't I show y'all my gun collection? I'm an avid collector, you know—helps with the hunting trips up North."

Your parents nodded approvingly—your dad even seemed impressed. "Sounds like a man's hobby," he chuckled. Emily squeezed Brian's thick arm, beaming. "I'd love to see it, babe."

Brian led the way to the guest room where he'd stashed his locked cases, unlocking them with a key from his pocket. The lids creaked open to reveal an arsenal: rifles with scopes that could pick off a deer at 500 yards, handguns sleek and deadly, even a few antique pieces he claimed were from his grandfather. He picked up a massive bolt-action rifle, shouldering it effortlessly, his 260 pounds of muscle making the weapon look like a toy.

"This one's my favorite for hunting," he said, voice deep and steady, eyes flicking between you and Emily. "Nothing like stalking prey in the woods—waiting for the right moment to take it down. It's all about control, patience... and the thrill of the kill."

His words hung heavy, the double meaning twisting in your gut. He handed Emily a smaller pistol to hold, her fingers trembling slightly under its weight, but when he offered you one.

He chuckled, low and rumbling. "Come on, don't be shy. Everyone should know how to handle a piece like this." His hand brushed yours as he insisted, calluses rough against your skin.

Later that evening, over dinner, Brian floated the idea of a "bonding" hunting trip. "There's some good woods right behind your property—deer season's open. What do you say, us three? Emily, you in?"

Emily nodded enthusiastically at first, but as the night wore on, she rubbed her temples. "Actually, babe, I've got a killer headache coming on. Rain check?"

Brian's smile didn't falter. "No worries, sweetheart. Rest up." Then his eyes landed on you. "Just you and me then? It'll be fun—teach you a thing or two about survival."

Your parents encouraged it—"Get some fresh air!"—and before you knew it, dawn broke with you bundled in a jacket, following Brian into the misty woods. The air was crisp, leaves crunching under his heavy boots as he led the way, rifle slung over his shoulder like an extension of his body. The trees thickened, isolating you from the house, from help.

He stopped in a clearing, setting down his gear. "See? Perfect spot." But his tone shifted—deeper, more commanding. He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing you. "Now, about that hunt... I reckon you're the prey today."

He grabbed your arm—grip like iron, effortless for his size. "Shh. Don't make this hard. I've been patient.