But Daniel was getting frustrated with my avoidance tactics. He started accidentally bumping into me in the hallway or walking in on me in the bathroom because he didn’t know I was in there. Each time I documented it in my file, then came the night that changed everything. My parents were both working late shifts, and I was alone in the apartment with Daniel.

I’d been hiding in my room with the door locked and the chair propped against it, trying to focus on homework. Around 9:00 p.m., I heard Daniel’s footsteps in the hallway. Then a knock on my door. “Go away,” I called out, trying to sound braver than I felt. “I ordered pizza,” he said through the door. “Come eat before it gets cold. I’m not hungry. Don’t be like that.

I’m trying to be nice here. Make peace.” I didn’t respond. After a minute, his footsteps retreated. I thought that was the end of it. But about 20 minutes later, I smelled smoke. I opened my door cautiously and saw smoke coming from the kitchen. I ran out to find Daniel standing there with a burning pan, looking helpless.

I tried to heat up the pizza in the oven, he said, coughing. I guess I set the temperature too high. I pushed past him and turned off the oven, then grabbed a towel to fan away the smoke. “Are you trying to burn the place down?” I snapped. He shrugged, just trying to be helpful. “Not my fault. This piece of crap oven doesn’t work right.

” I rolled my eyes and started cleaning up the mess. That’s when I realized his accident had forced me out of my room. I turned to go back, but Daniel was blocking the hallway. “Since you’re out here, might as well eat something,” he said, gesturing to the pizza box on the counter. “The pizza inside was untouched.” He’d only put one slice in the oven.

My stomach growled traitorously. I hadn’t eaten dinner yet, and the pizza smelled good. Fine, I said, grabbing a slice and a paper towel. But I’m taking it to my room. Always hiding. Daniel sighed dramatically. What are you so afraid of? I stared at him in disbelief. Are you serious right now? He stepped closer and I immediately stepped back.

I was drunk on your birthday, he said, his voice suddenly softer. I made a mistake. Can’t we move past it? A mistake? I repeated, my voice rising. You followed me to my room and assaulted me. Assaulted? He laughed. Don’t be so dramatic. It was just a kiss. I felt rage building inside me like I’d never experienced before.

You pinned me against a wall and put your hands all over me. I’m your cousin. I’m 16. Daniel’s face changed. Then the fake friendliness disappeared, replaced by something cold. Be careful throwing around accusations like that, he said quietly. No one’s going to believe you anyway.

Your mom already thinks you’re making it up for attention. My hands were shaking so hard I dropped the pizza. Get out of my way, I whispered. Or what? He challenged, stepping even closer. That’s when I remembered my phone in my pocket. I’d been recording the whole conversation. I pulled it out and held it up. Or I’ll show everyone this recording of you admitting what you did.

Daniels eyes widened, then narrowed. He lunged for my phone, but I was faster. I ducked under his arm and ran for the front door. I didn’t have shoes on or a jacket, but I didn’t care. I just ran down the apartment stairs and out into the night, not stopping until I reached the convenience store three blocks away.

I stood there in the fluorescent lights, breathing hard, checking my phone to make sure the recording had saved. It had, I played it back, hearing Daniel’s voice, clearly admitting he’d kissed me, seeing the time stamp. It wasn’t a full confession, but it was something evidence. The cashier was giving me weird looks, probably because I was in pajama pants with no shoes.

So, I bought a cheap coffee and sat at the plastic table in the corner trying to figure out what to do next. I couldn’t go home, not with my parents still at work and Daniel there alone. But I had nowhere else to go. I ended up staying at that convenience store until almost midnight when I knew my parents would be home.

The walk back was cold and my feet hurt. But the fear of what waited at home was worse. When I finally got back to the apartment, my mom was waiting up furious. “Where have you been?” she demanded. “It’s a school night.” I couldn’t tell her the truth that I’d been hiding from Daniel. So, I made up some story about going to the library to study and losing track of time.

She didn’t believe me, but she was too tired to argue. She just sent me to my room with a warning about being grounded if it happened again. I locked my door, wedged the chair under the knob, and listened. The apartment was quiet. Daniel’s door was closed. I checked my phone again, making sure the recording was still there, then emailed it to myself as backup.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. The next day at school, I couldn’t focus on anything. I kept thinking about the recording and what to do with it. I couldn’t go to my parents. They’d already made it clear whose side they were on. The police? Would they even care? It was just a recording of a conversation, not the actual assault.

Plus, I was terrified of what would happen if I reported it, and nothing came of it. I’d still be stuck living with Daniel, but things would be even worse. During lunch, I was sitting alone as usual when this girl named Taylor sat down across from me. Taylor wasn’t exactly a friend, but she wasn’t one of my bullies either.

We had biology together and sometimes partnered up for labs. “You okay?” she asked, unwrapping her sandwich. “You seem off lately.” “I was so surprised by the question that I almost told her everything right then and there.” Instead, I just shrugged. “Family stuff.” Taylor nodded like she understood.

“My parents are divorcing right now. It’s a whole thing. That sucks,” I said, meaning it. “Yeah.” She took a bite of her sandwich, then said, “My mom made me go to this support group for teens with family problems. It’s actually not terrible. You should come sometime.” I almost laughed at the idea that a support group could help with my particular family problem, but I just thanked her and said I’d think about it.

The conversation moved on to biology homework, but something about that brief moment of normaly made me feel slightly less alone. After school, I decided to take a different approach with Daniel. Instead of avoiding him, I’d watch him, learn his patterns, find his weaknesses. Knowledge was power, right? When I got home, Daniel was playing video games in the living room.

I forced myself to sit on the other end of the couch and pretend to do homework while secretly observing him. He seemed surprised by my presence, but didn’t say anything about our confrontation the night before. Over the next few days, I kept this up. I noted when he left for work, usually around 10:00 a.m. when he came home, 6:00 p.m.

, and what he did in his free time, mostly gaming and texting. I noticed he always took his phone into the bathroom with him when he showered. I saw how he hid beer in his gym bag and sneaked it into his room. I watched how he charmed my parents with compliments and offers to help around the house. I also noticed something else.

Daniel had a girlfriend. Her name was Megan, and she called him almost every night. I could hear him talking to her through the thin walls, telling her he missed her, making plans to see her on his days off. I wondered if she knew what kind of person she was dating. One day, about 2 weeks after Daniel moved in, I came home to find him passed out on the couch.

Empty beer cans were hidden under the coffee table, and his phone was just sitting there on the armrest, unlocked. My parents wouldn’t be home for hours. It was the perfect opportunity. I hesitated for only a second before grabbing his phone. My heart was pounding as I quickly scrolled through his messages. Most were boring.

Work stuff, conversations with friends about video games, flirty texts with Megan, but then I found a conversation with someone named William that made my blood run cold. William, how’s life with the fam? Daniel, boring a except for my little cousin William. The one you told me about at the party, Daniel. Yeah, she’s been playing hard to get, but she’ll come around.

William, dude, that’s messed up. She’s your cousin, Daniel. Step cousin. No blood. Besides, she wants it. Just playing games. I felt sick reading it, but I forced myself to take screenshots of the entire conversation and email them to myself. Then, I carefully put the phone back exactly where I found it and retreated to my room, my mind racing.

The screenshots were even better evidence than my recording. Daniel was basically admitting to his friend that he was pursuing me, his underage cousin, and the step- cousin thing was a complete lie. We were definitely bloodrelated. I added the screenshots to my growing file of evidence. That night, I couldn’t sleep.

I kept thinking about what Daniel had said, that I would come around eventually. The idea that he was just waiting for another opportunity made me feel like I was living with a ticking bomb. I needed to do something soon. The next day was Saturday and my parents were both working overtime shifts. I’d be alone with Daniel all day. The thought terrified me, but I also saw it as an opportunity.

I decided to set a trap. I waited until Daniel was in the shower and quickly went to his room. I knew exactly what I was looking for, the beer he kept hidden in his gym bag. I found six cans and took three, hiding them in my room. Then I went to the kitchen and started making breakfast loudly, making sure he’d know I was up and around.

When Daniel came out of the bathroom, he seemed surprised to see me cooking. “Making enough for two?” he asked, leaning against the counter too close to me. “Sure,” I said, forcing myself to sound casual. “I’m making eggs and toast. Want some?” he looked suspicious, but nodded. I served up two plates and sat at the table across from him.

I could feel his eyes on me as I ate, wondering what I was up to. So, I said, trying to sound natural. I’ve been thinking about what you said, about moving past what happened on my birthday. Daniel’s eyebrows shot up. Yeah. I nodded, not looking at him directly. I mean, we’re stuck living together, right? Might as well try to get along.

A slow smile spread across his face. Exactly what I’ve been saying. After breakfast, I suggested watching a movie. Daniel eagerly agreed, probably thinking his creepy plan was working. I put on some action movie neither of us really cared about, and sat on the opposite end of the couch from him. Throughout the movie, I pretended to warm up to him, laughing at his jokes, gradually sitting closer.

“Want a beer?” I asked during a slow part of the movie. “I know where my dad hides them.” Daniel looked impressed. “Look at you. Breaking rules.” “Sure.” I went to my room and grabbed the beers I’d taken from his stash, then brought them back. I opened one for him and pretended to take a sip of mine, though I wasn’t actually drinking.

Daniel, however, drank his quickly and accepted a second one. By the end of the movie, Daniel had finished all three beers on top of whatever he’d already had that morning. He was definitely tipsy, his words slightly slurred as he tried to put his arm around me during the credits. “You know,” he said, leaning in too close. “You’re really pretty when you’re not being a beach.

” I forced a laugh, though my skin was crawling. “Thanks. I guess we could have a lot of fun together if you just relax,” he continued. His hand now on my knee. I stood up abruptly. I need to use the bathroom. In the bathroom, I took out my phone and made sure the recording app was working. I took several deep breaths, reminding myself of the plan.

I needed him to admit what he’d done on record with a time stamp. It was the only way. When I came back, Daniel had moved to my spot on the couch, so I’d have to sit right next to him. I did, my phone recording in my pocket. “Can I ask you something?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. That night on my birthday, “Why did you follow me to my room?” Daniel’s eyes narrowed slightly, but the alcohol made him looser than he would have been otherwise.

“Because you looked hot in that dress,” he said with a shrug. “And I thought you were into me.” “Into you? You’re my cousin.” He waved his hand dismissively. “That’s just a technicality. We’re not really related.” “Yes, we are,” I insisted. “Our moms are sisters. Whatever.” He moved closer. “The point is, I know you felt something, too.

That’s why you’re being nice to me now, right?” I swallowed hard. “I’m being nice because I’m scared of you,” I said. Honestly, “You assaulted me on my birthday, and now I’m trapped living with you.” Daniel’s face darkened. “I didn’t assault you. I kissed you. You pinned me against a wall and put your hands all over me without my consent. That’s assault.

You’re exaggerating.” He scoffed. “Besides, you liked it until you freaked out for no reason. I stood up, unable to stomach being near him any longer. I was terrified. I’m 16, Daniel. Even if I wasn’t your cousin, it would still be illegal. That seemed to penetrate his alcohol-foged brain.” He stood up too, suddenly looking more alert.

“Are you recording this?” he demanded, reaching for my pocket. I jumped back, but not fast enough. Daniel grabbed my arm hard enough to bruise and yanked my phone from my pocket. When he saw the recording app running, his face contorted with rage. “You little bitch!” he hissed, squeezing my arm tighter. “What are you trying to do? Ruin my life. You’re hurting me.

” I gasped, trying to pull away. “Let go.” Instead of releasing me, Daniel shoved me hard. I stumbled backward and hit the coffee table, knocking it over and falling with it. Pain shot through my elbow as it hit the floor. Daniel stood over me, still holding my phone. If you tell anyone about this, I’ll make your life hell, he threatened.

I’ll tell everyone you came on to me that you’re obsessed with me. Who do you think they’ll believe? The honor student with a job or the weird loner girl who has no friends? I scrambled to my feet, holding my throbbing elbow. Give me back my phone. Daniel laughed and held it above his head. What are you going to do about it? That’s when I remembered the screenshots I’d emailed to myself from his phone.

The evidence that wasn’t on my phone. I already have everything I need, I said, trying to sound confident despite my racing heart. I have screenshots of your texts with William where you admit everything. The color drained from Daniel’s face. You’re lying. Check your text history with William if you don’t believe me.

I sent myself screenshots while you were passed out yesterday. Daniel immediately started checking his phone, scrolling frantically through his messages. While he was distracted, I lunged for my phone, managing to knock it out of his hand. It clattered to the floor, and we both dove for it. I got there first, snatching it up and running for the door.

I didn’t stop running until I reached the park three blocks away. My elbow was throbbing, and I could feel bruises forming on my arm where Daniel had grabbed me, but I had my phone. The recording was still going, having captured everything. His admission about kissing me, his threat, the sound of him shoving me. It wasn’t a full confession, but combined with the screenshots and my previous recording, it was building a case.

I sat on a park bench, shaking with adrenaline and fear, I couldn’t go home. Not with Daniel there and my parents still at work, but I couldn’t stay at the park forever either. I needed help, real help, from someone who would actually believe me. That’s when I remembered what Taylor had said about the support group for teens with family problems.

I didn’t have the details, but I did have Taylor’s number from a group project. With trembling fingers, I called her. Hey, I said when she answered, my voice cracking. Remember that support group you mentioned? Is it meeting today? There was a pause. Then Taylor said, “Yeah, actually in like an hour.” “Why? Are you okay? You sound weird. I’m not okay.

” I admitted, starting to cry. “I need help. Can you tell me where the group meets?” Taylor gave me the address. It was at a community center about a mile away, and offered to meet me there. I thanked her and hung up, then checked my phone battery. It was at 20%, but that should be enough to get me through the next few hours.

I carefully saved the recording, emailed it to myself like the others, then started walking toward the community center. I had no idea if the support group would actually help me. But I knew one thing for certain. I couldn’t keep living like this. Something had to change. And soon either Daniel would have to go or I would. And I was done running.

I got to the community center about 15 minutes early. My elbow was throbbing like crazy and I could already see purple bruises forming on my arm. I sat on a bench outside trying to get my crap together before going in. No way was I walking into a room full of strangers with tears streaming down my face.

Taylor showed up a few minutes later looking concerned as hell when she saw me. “Oh my effing gosh, what happened to you?” she asked, staring at my arm. I just shook my head, not ready to explain everything yet. It’s a long story. Thanks for meeting me. She nodded, not pushing it. The group’s pretty chill.

The counselor who runs it is cool. She doesn’t force anyone to share if they don’t want to. We went inside together. The community center was this dingy building with fluorescent lights that made everyone look sick. About 10 teenagers were sitting in a circle of folding chairs. Most of them looked normal enough, though a few had that same haunted look I’d been seeing in my own mirror lately.

The counselor was this 30-something woman named Susan with purple streaks in her hair. She smiled when we walked in and gestured to two empty chairs. I sat down, keeping my bruised arm partially hidden in my lap. “We have a new face today,” Susan said once everyone settled. “Would you like to introduce yourself?” I mumbled my name, staring at the floor.

Susan didn’t push for more, just explained that this was a safe space for teens dealing with difficult family situations. People could share as much or as little as they wanted. A few kids talked about their parents’ divorces or alcoholic dads or whatever. I half listened, still trying to figure out if coming here had been a mistake. Then this girl with short blue hair started talking about her stepdad who kept accidentally walking in on her in the bathroom.

Something about the way she described it. How everyone told her she was overreacting. How her mom didn’t believe her. Hit way too close to home. Before I knew what was happening, I was crying again. Not quiet tears either, but full-on ugly sobbing that made everyone stare at me. Susan quickly handed me a box of tissues.

“Would you like to share what’s going on?” she asked gently. And suddenly, I did. I wanted to tell someone, anyone who might actually believe me, so I started talking. I told them about Daniel, about what happened at my birthday party, about him moving in, about the recording in screenshots, about what had happened that morning.

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