Celeste's childhood wasn't something she loved talking about. It was filled with nothing but painful memories. Whether they were the ones from when her father, along with her brothers, left, or the ones from her mother's death and her stepfather's a...
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"YOU DIDN'T CALL him Daniel just because you forgot his name, did you?" My voice sounded foreign to my ears. My tone almost sounded robotic, the coldness accompanying my words chilling me to the core. My head tilted, my eyes not leaving Lorenzo's. "The fights you got into. They... they were illegal all along."
I wasn't asking because I knew. The moment I saw the two young men, I recognized them from the ice cream shop. How could I not when the look they'd given me was still engraved on my mind? How could I not when the way Dante instantly retreated into the shadows upon seeing them had been haunting my mind?
I knew. I just knew.
I knew that Daniel was Dante as soon as they told Marco that they had a message for him, just as I knew that my brothers were fighting illegally against each other as soon as I saw the video on the boy's phone. I was sure of it. I was so fucking sure of it.
Their silence only confirmed my accusations. The looks of shock and surprise that flashed across their faces told me that they weren't planning on telling us anytime soon, that they were planning to keep on lying. A lie after another. An excuse after another.
I was so sick of it. I was so, so sick of it.
Marco's firm grip on my hand was the only thing that kept me from slipping away. It was the only anchor holding me up, but even that had started to fall apart. Even his strength had started to crumble under the suffocating silence that drilled into my head and rang in my ears.
"What the fuck happened?" Dante asked, seemingly recovering from the initial shock and attempting to change the topic into one where he wasn't left exposed, his secrets resurfacing. He was by our side in a moment. "You said that nothing has happened!" His voice was shaky. I didn't know if it were concern or anger. "Marco, you dumbass. Talk to me."
Marco didn't talk. He glanced down at the floor, shaking his head as he took an unsteady step back, away from our oldest brother. "I want Dad." His voice cracked. "Please. I want Dad."
"Marco—"
His head snapped upwards as he cut Dante off. "I don't want to talk to you!" It didn't take much to realize that the tears that had been trapped in his eyes were now free. "You are... you... I don't want to talk to you! I just want Dad."
I barely registered the look of pain that flashed across Dante's face in response. I failed to process the words he said to Marco as an answer. The only thing I managed to focus on was the memory from earlier. The two men, the crimson staining everything, the rock I'd found on the ground and slammed against the man's head to stop him from hurting Marco again. I had hit him. I had hurt someone.
It all happened too quickly. I couldn't understand. I couldn't. One moment, I was standing, watching everything, and sobbing in pain. One moment, I couldn't breathe no matter how hard I tried to. I couldn't help but feel like my heart was being ripped off my chest and torn into shreds. The next moment, I was hurting someone. I was pushing the unfamiliar man off my twin as I tried to shield him from getting hurt further.
