Unwelcome

11

          I sit criss-cross applesauce on the stool in the upstairs kitchen, slowly spinning around in circles. I hum under my breath the tune to a song I don't even remember the name of.

For the past week, I've started sitting in the living areas in the house. Spending time in my room was like sitting in a cage.

Literally.

Dinner would be brought in layed out on a tray, with a jug of juice on the side. I think I didn't even come out of the room for three days straight, at some point I got a panic attack and bashed my slowly healing stomach into the bed frame. I've been sitting in the living spaces ever since.

         I reach the chorus of the song and start to belt it out loudly, I swivel faster in the stool.

A groan sounds from the couch,

       "Will you stop that?" Santiago hisses, throwing me an agitated glance from over his shoulder .

I smirk at his frustration ,

we've been like this for days. Me bugging Santiago, him pretending to hate my presence.

          I watch as he taps away on his computer, his back pressed into the couch behind him. His dress shirt is rolled up to his elbows displaying his veiny arms. His hair is mussed enough to show that he's been running his hand through it for a while.

Turns out Santiago was the okayest brother out of them all, he didn't seem to hate me, or lack of thereof. He was actually pretty friendly. Sure he would make fun of me every single time he saw my face, but I guess that's his love language.

       Last week, I saw Santiago sitting alone in the living room looking kinda bored. We ended up binge watching a cringey series while commenting on the stupid stuff they did. I guess he needed some company.

So you can now basically say that he isn't evil.

         I feel an unexpected pang of sympathy when I see the stress written all over his whole face, so I open up my phone, flicking to the Uber eats app.

"What's your favorite type of donut?" I yell unnecessarily loud,

       He winces at my volume and creases his brows to think for a bit, he pauses, appearing to be in deep thought until he hollers back to me,

"chocolate donuts!"

I smile to myself as I order the food. I bet no one's ever done something sweet for him before, not with those nasty, mean-ass brothers.

...........................................................

"So..."

Santiago grumbles with his mouth full of donuts,

         "How was your life like with Black?"

I watch the lazy grin on his face as he leans back into the cushions of the couch. His chocolate brown hair is messed up and his clothes are crumpled— he looks nothing like the Santiago I met on my first day.

I grab a donut and tear it in half,

       "Life was lifing— It was good, I guess...... it could have been worse" I reply halfheartedly, all while shoving a piece of donut in my mouth.

Santiago squints at me, giving me a questioning look,

"What's that supposed to mean?"

        "Well, you have to be more specific, I could have gotten into a worse family in the foster care system but I didn't" but did I? I chew thoughtfully.