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I hate her. Nothing else to it. I just hate her.

At school we act perfectly normal, like nothing ever happened, you know? And I hate it, it makes me wanna scream. Everyone used to tell us how creepy we were..like "Ew, dude, you have to kiss your sister? That's nasty." We had our first onstage kiss in Brigadoon in seventh grade. I was Tommy, she was Fiona. I suggested on a disguised kiss on the cheek, she insisted a kiss on the lips.

It was fine, at first. She's my sister, we used to take baths together. We have photographic evidence. Whenever Mom brings it out, she never worries about how ugly she looked as a baby, she only seems to worry about how small my dick was then.

That was freshman year. The spring musical that year was a student-written called 'High on the Telephone Pole'. Of course, she and I played leads. And..it wasn't like middle school musicals, just a kiss. This was high school, and this show was mature. It wasn't fluffy. There was a song about Jack and Liana having..you know...and we had to sing this onstage, and it was all games.

Until we were rehearsing at home in our studio one day when we got home from final dress rehearsal. I was tired, she insisted on rehearsing that song over and over. I was there, stuck in my boxers and a tee-shirt, dancing around at eleven at night with my sister.

I thought we finally had it perfect. But then she had to make a suggestion.

"I think Jack and Liana really have a lot of chemistry, you know?"

I hesistated.

"We need more chemistry. Here, do this.."

She approached me, and laid my hands around her waist, then sang a line from the song. She inched closer to me, her owns hands slipping down from my shoulders to my waist, where she hesistated for just a moment.

I was singing when she did it. I was so suprised I didn't know what to do. Shout, yell, scream, run, sing, play along with it? I just didn't know. But I know I stepped away, and mumbled a good night to her. Then ran, past the room that her and I used as a closet, past the kitchen where our cook was preparing a bed-time snack for us, and onto the balcony of my room.

I sat down, and cried.

Cried, for one, because I hate her.

And two...if people tell me this is so wrong, then why did it feel so right?

Back to reality. She turned back around in her chair and I dropped my fake smile. I know who she is now, and I hate it.