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stirred from her peaceful looking slumber. Slowly she opened her eyes.
     
    “Morning!” she whispered. There was a sparkle in her bright blue eyes and a smile on her face. Had she forgotten what she did to me last night? Has she forgotten that she forced me to an erection and then - for all intents and purposes - raped me? I understand that what we do - what we all do - is wrong but it has never gone that far before. A new (unpleasant) side of my sister.
     
    “Morning,” I whispered.
     
    She sat up on the mattress and stretched, “I can’t remember the last time I slept so well.” She laughed. “I guess I should thank you for that.” She rubbed her eyes and stood up. “How did you sleep?”
     
    Did she think last night was a game?
     
    “Good,” I lied, keeping it simple.
     
    She jumped down next to me and pushed her way underneath the thin duvet which covered me, “Fancy another go? This time you can pretend to rape me.” She giggled like a naughty schoolgirl, “Please don’t...Please...No....”
     
    “What’s the matter with you?” I asked. I kicked the blanket off and stood up.
     
    “Me? What is wrong with you?”
     
    “I wasn’t playing last night,” I said. “I wasn’t in the mood...”
     
    “You owed me.”
     
    “Owed you? Owed you what?”
     
    “The orgasm you denied me.”
     
    “Have you heard yourself? Jesus - what have we turned into?!”
     
    “What?”
     
    “I don’t even know who we are anymore.”
     
    “I’m your sister and you’re my brother. A great fucking brother at that.”
     
    “Everything’s so wrong.”
     
    She looked at me as though I were a piece of trash. No. It was worse than that. She looked at me as though I were one of those things outside.
     
    “It’s okay when you want sex but when I want it it’s tough? Is that it?”
     
    “It’s not just the sex...”
     
    “Oh my God - you’re still stressing about the meat? Every time it’s the same...”
     
    “And it should be the same for you too! Why am I the only one who feels like this? Why does no one else see what we’re doing is so wrong?”
     
    “Because everyone else knows what we’re doing is necessary to survive and you always get like this after we’ve had a meal.”
     
    I wanted to remind her what the meal actually consisted of but I knew she wouldn’t care. In her head what we did was perfectly acceptable. Father made sure of that by forcing his opinion on us so strongly that he may as well just have brainwashed us.
     
    “And you don’t usually complain after we’ve fucked!” she pointed out.
     
    There was a playful tone in her voice. There was no point in arguing with her. It was true. I don’t complain after that. I get carried away by the lust of the moment and all rules go out of the window. With the meat I get carried away with the thought of eating (the thought of surviving) so those rules go out of the window too until afterwards when the indigestion kicks in and I can’t help but think of what I have just eaten. Did they have a name? Were they like me in that they were part of a larger group and they were on the lookout for help or food? Did they have a family? Who knows - with regards to the sex, maybe I’d start to have guilty feelings about that too had I been left with a burning (or itching sensation) after the act; some unpleasant reminder that what we did was wrong as opposed to a feeling of contentment.
     
    “You need to pull yourself together! You heard what Father said last time you got like this...”
     
    “How could I forget? How dare I have an opinion about how we are living? It was stupid of me to have even challenged him.”
     
    Sister didn’t say anything. She just glared at me. Her once sparkling eyes dulled in colour at my tone of sarcasm. I had to be careful. If I pushed her too far, she’d tell Father. Daddy’s little pet.
     
    “I’m sorry.” I tried to take a step back to save from getting into an argument with