Chapter 9

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      I shake my head still trying to push away from him, my strength depleting.

"I can't," I whisper afraid that if I spoke louder the tears would take over.

His fingers run through my hair sending a spark through my body and I'm transferred back to all those times my anger would take over.

It would happen way too often but once Lucas would bring me into his arms, massaging my head with his fingers they stopped.

This was a side of me I didn't want Isa to ever meet.

"Shh, I understand." His voice is smooth and I find myself wrapping my arms around his waist, giving in.

      A few seconds later my body feels heavy and he pulls back making me roughly wipe the tears that managed to escape.

I wince as he takes my wrist, "It's probably fine." I clear my throat glancing at Marisol and Fiona consoling a crying Isa. Marisol gives me a sympathetic and understanding look

Lucas's eyes intensify bringing it closer to his eyes, he's probably trying to use the skills he supposedly gained from his rewatching of Grey's Anatomy.

"I think it's sprained. We should take you to the hospital, does anything else hurt?"

"I'm fine," I shake my head. "If it's not broken then some Ice should be fine."

"Can I take a look?" Fiona offers me a smile. "I'm in my second year of nursing school."

I nod and she takes my arm, she squeezes the tips of my fingers and asks me if I can feel it, she places her pointer and middle fingers on my wrist and lightly presses down. "It's definitely not broken," she says in thought. "Yep, most likely your ligament."

"It's one of the joints in your wrists, connecting your bones," Fiona explains seeing our expression. "Which is just a fancy way to say it's sprained," she chuckles.

"Are you okay?"

I turn to see Isa behind me with a twitching frown and everyone's eyes make me uncomfortable. This is the worst part, the aftermath of an "episode".

I haven't had an outburst in almost two years and now I feel like a vulnerable child that needs to be saved, I hate this feeling.

Isa sniffs clutching her arm, "I'm sorry I didn't mean to..." her voice breaks, and I embrace her. I hug her despite my still being angry and the awful pain in my wrist.

"Just...don't ever do that again. Okay?"

"I won't. I promise."

" I'm sorry too. I..." I'm supposed to be her big brother, but instead, I made her do something she didn't want. "I forced you to do it and I'm sorry."

She pulls back, "I was only faking being scared." She looks down sheepishly, "I come here with my friends a lot."

"Oh." I crack a smile. "Well, then I'm sorry I said that I would drown you."

      I struggle to turn the handle of the four-wheeler with one hand as I try steering straight through the night. Fiona's wine isn't helping with the pain, but I didn't want to ruin the rest of the day.

"Is it hurting?" Lucas says from behind me, his arms aren't as tight as before and I don't know if that made me feel relieved or frustrated.

Marisol and Fiona speed up ahead when I get too close to them, I try keeping a steady pace.

"Are you sure you can drive?"

"Not really," I shrug. "But what are you going to do? Drive?" I snap at him, which makes me worse.

"What if I..." he scoots closer to me, his chest pressing into my back and my body didn't know whether to tense up or get needy. He holds onto the other side of the handle, and his cheek touches mine.

"J-just follow Isa and avoid the holes."

     Walking inside I find my mom lightly snoring on the couch with the TV on low volume. 

 "Que paso?" She jolts up asking what happened.

As if on cue tears fall down my cheeks, showing her my arm she orders me to sit at the dinner table. She returns from her room with a box of remedies and medicines, she gently takes my hand and begins to rub in an odd-smelling ointment.

"Que chingadoes te hiciste?" She asks me what happened in a way that indicated it was my fault.

"Estaba nadando," I wince wiping the tear from the corner of my eye. Yes, this is Isa's fault, but we don't snitch.

"Tue crees con casi veinte anos," she shakes her head, scolding me. I tell her that just because I'm almost twenty doesn't mean I'm less prone to accidents.

Marisol places a grocery bag with ice on the table, "Fiona will be back with a brace." She sits next to Lucas who focuses on my hand. Isa tries to follow them but I wrap my fingers around her wrist, squeezing it with each strike of pain my mother rubs.

She tries pulling my fingers off but stands still after I tell her I'd snitch on her.

      Placing my phone upside down on the nightstand Lucas walks in with a glass of water and a couple of pills. His hair was dark and wet from his shower, only wearing shorts with the waistband of his white boxers showing.

The world is cruel.

"How are you feeling?" he yawns, climbing onto the bed and laying on his stomach. He hugs his pillow to better look up at me swallowing the pills.

"Everything kinda hurts," I say with my throat burning. "I feel so tired. I should have showered before laying down," I mumble feeling the exhaustion of my body. I run my hand through my flat hair which felt greasy from the sun.

"You still should."

"Meh, I'm just a little sweaty," I playfully smile and he wrinkles his nose. He opens his mouth to say something when a knock comes at the door. Marisol pokes her head in.

"Thought you left," Lucas lazily sits up giving her room to sit beside us.

"I told her I forgot something," she clears her throat sitting crisscrossed on the edge of the bed. "How's your wrist?" She gives me a small smile glancing at my brace, Lucas and I exchange looks.

"Spit it out, Mari!"

"Fine!"

She squeals with the brightest smile settling in between us, "Okay. So, you know that I love Fiona right? I really love her."

"Okay..."

"Wait, what are yall's thoughts on her? Do yall like her?"

"I mean she's down to earth, nice..."

"Emotionally available," Lucas adds. "Not crazy or unhealthy jealous."

"Oof, that's a big one. You remember your ex..."

"The purple-haired one?"

"Yeah, she was legitimately crazy."

"Come on guys! I get it, I date shitty people. Fiona's different, can't you see it?" She says almost desperately which is not like her at all. She's usually very confident about the people she dates.

"We're joking," Lucas chuckles.

"And yes, we can. I see the way you look at her, I can practically see the hearts coming out of your eyeballs." I add.

"Okay, good," she puffs out with a smile. "Because...I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

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