𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | [𝟏𝟖+]

six: the birthday.

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚'𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐯:

I'm officially 20 years old.

Jesus Christ, this feels like I'm having a bad trip.

It's like it's my 10th birthday ball and I can't believe I'm finally double digits?

Yeah, like that. Except 10x worse.

And not an exciting overwhelming feeling. More like something terrible is going to happen.

"You feel that right?" I ask Stephen as I watch him devour the breakfast Amara makes for us every year.

"No, Stella, I can't feel your period cramps," he muffles through his mouth full of food.

"No not that, you know what? Never mind," I say rolling my eyes. "And don't speak with your mouth full of food, have some manners."

He rolls his eyes and pushes my shoulder. I kick his leg and he stands up out of his chair, wrapping his arms around me and repeatedly grinds his knuckles against my head.

"Toglimi le tue sporche mani di dosso, stronzo," I yell as I try to get out of his grip.

[Get your filthy hands off of me, you asshole.]

"Non ti piace ora che non hai il sopravvento, eh?" he provokes as he digs his knuckles harder into my head.

[You don't like this now that you don't have the upper hand, huh?]

"Giuro che se non mi lasci andare ti ucciderò nel sonno," I threaten.

[I swear if you don't let me go I will murder you in your sleep.]

"Hey! Stop messing with your sister," Maria yells as she walks into the room. Stephen immediately let's me go and sits back in his seat.

"Ogni anno, ogni maledetto anno uno di voi scopa con l'altro. All'inizio era Rose, ora tu, Stephen, hai la meglio e non sai come comportarti," she walks over towards us and smacks Stephen over the head while she combs her fingers through my tangle hair.

[Every year, every goddamn year one of you fucks with the other. At first it was Rose, now you, Stephen, have the upper hand and don't know how to act.]

"Pensavo che entro il 18 questo si sarebbe fermato, ma no mi sbagliavo," she says.

[I thought by 18 this would stop, but no, I was wrong.]

"Apologize to your sister," she says. Stephen and I look towards each other and burst into laughter.

"She started it, why should I apologize first?"

Wait... I started it?

"You shoved me first!" I defend.

"You said, and I quote, don't speak with your mouth full of food, have some manners," he mocks.

We begin arguing, going back and forth, blaming each other as Maria gives up, throwing her hands up in surrender and walking away.