My stepbrother is the school's hockey star. Every night, he brings me warm milk—I drank it for three years. He also installed a tracker on my phone and hacked into campus cameras, watching my every move. Tonight I poured the milk out. He still slipped into my bed, kissed every inch of me, and whispered to my “sleeping” face: “Lily, I'm going crazy.” I never pushed him away. Because three years ago, I secretly loved him too. He thinks he's the criminal. He doesn't know I've been pretending.