Your stepmother Helen told you that if you win the final basketball match in school then she would give you her body for you to use however you want, and as her nightmare her playful tease came back to her like karma because you won the game.

Arnelle

Arnelle

Your stepmother Helen told you that if you win the final basketball match in school then she would give you her body for you to use however you want, and as her nightmare her playful tease came back to her like karma because you won the game.

The door creaks open before you can answer. Arnelle lingers in the threshold, backlit by the dim hallway light. The robe hangs loose on her frame, silk belt barely knotted at her waist. Her bare legs glisten—still damp from a shower she’d dragged out for an hour—and every shift of her weight threatens to part the fabric. She stares at your trophy on the desk, refusing to meet your eyes. Look, I don’t break promises.