Someone Like Hugh -Draft Complete And EDITING-

Chapter Eighteen

Hugh's POV

"Have you noticed anything odd about my sister lately?" James asked.

I chuckled. "I barely know your sister, everything she does is odd to me," I laughed.

"You like her, don't you?" James asked me, looking into my eyes.

"I do. It sounds crazy, but the moment I met her, I felt drawn to her," I replied.

"You better not hurt her. I like you, but I'll break your stupidly handsome face if you do," James threatened.

"I wouldn't dream of it, she has had enough hurt to last a lifetime," I replied.

"I agree, which is why I would have to beat you up," James smiled. "And my brothers would help. You were engaged a day ago, and now, you're feeling things for my sister. I want to believe you, but I can only protect her in the limited ways I can."

"The last thing I would want is to hurt her. I want to get to know her, I want to know what makes her smell like strawberries, syrup, coconut and hibiscus flowers all at the same time. I want to know why she gets this distant look in her eyes, like she's disappearing from the room when she's right here. I want to know why of all songs, she chose to sing one about grief last night," I replied, frustrated at the situation, but not at James himself.

"Yesterday was her birthday, but it was also the anniversary of the day her father died. We don't talk about it, we never knew him. But it eats at her, she blames herself, but mostly because mother blames her," James explained. "Every year, we celebrate everyone else's birthday, she plans the parties and makes it important for us. But hers gets treated like it never existed."

"That's awful," I replied. She hadn't even told me. Then again, I'm not sure I'd want to celebrate either.

"I was hoping to get her something small I could sneak to her as a gift today," James spoke. "Mother may hate her, but I love my sister."

"I think we should, I'd like to get her something too," Hugh smiled.

"Mother has her on lockdown today, but I know my dad will sneak her meals at least, he always does," James explained. "She doesn't want us to interfere, she's screamed and yelled at us for it. She always says it's her job to keep us safe, that if she's the target of mother's aggression, we won't be. But it feels wrong. It's like we're intruding on some sort of war between them, and my mother only wants to use us as pawns to hurt her."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Once and only once, Amelia stood up to my mother. She was packing her things to leave. When she was nearly done, my mother grabbed me by the arm and led me to the top of the stairs. I was only ten at the time," James took a deep breath and ruffled his hair. "My mother told Amelia if she left, my brothers and I would recieve all that pent up hate and anger instead. My mother shoved me, and Amelia jumped out, wrapping me in her arms. We tumbled down the stairs together, she broke an arm and her ankle, but I landed safely on top of her. At the hospital my mother told everyone about how I'd been playing at the too of the stairs and fell, Amelia got hurt saving me. All of the adults believed it, and I was too scared to argue otherwise."

"For a couple weeks, Amelia was stuck in a wheelchair. My father arranged for her to stay in the housekeeper's apartment since it was on the first floor," James explained. "She's always protecting us, she needs someone who won't be afraid to protect her."

We walked into the little gift shop on the corner. I couldn't get James' words out of my head.