Defender's Heartbeat 2

Chapter 9

Everyone started to worry about the tiny scar on my face more than they worried about me. Even Pedro and Louis were concerned.

"What happened to your face?" Pedro asked, touching my jaw.

"Juana did this," I said, and Pedro got mad, blaming Juana. She kept saying she didn't mean to. Fortunately, she forgot to mention that I stole her shampoo bottles.

"What happened to your face?" Louis asked, eyeing my jaw with concern. I couldn't understand how everyone kept noticing it. It wasn't even that big.

"Juana did that," I repeated, and to my surprise, Louis also blamed her.

I couldn't figure out how my strange siblings had changed like this. There was something wrong with them. They weren't the same as before.

Mia was worried about my face too. She gently touched my scar with her smooth fingers.

"It hurts a lot," I lied, hoping to get some sympathy. She stared at me with sadness, and I loved it when she did that. It gave me a chance to observe every detail of her perfect face.

"It's not that big," she said softly, still running her fingers along my jaw.

"But it really hurts, and look how ugly it is," I complained. The more I played it up, the more she cared, which made me feel even happier.

"It's not ugly, Enzo," she said, giving me a quick kiss.

Oh, God! This girl made me feel so worthy. I didn't feel useless or neglected when I was around her. She was the best person in my life after Papa.

I handed her the shampoo bottles, and she looked surprised. She kissed my cheek and thanked me. Of course, I didn't tell her I'd stolen them from a rich girl.

"How did you get the scar?" she asked.

"My sister tried to touch my face, but her ring cut me," I lied again.

"Aw, she loves you," she said, pinching my other cheek and shaking it playfully.

"Yeah, a lot," I said. Mia didn't catch my sarcasm—she thought I was being serious.

"What happened to your face, Enzo?" Noah asked.

"It's just a small cut. Why is everyone worrying about it?" I replied.

"It's not a small cut," Diego countered.

"It is a small cut," Elijah chimed in. The three of them then launched into a discussion about the cut on my jaw, comparing it to different cuts they and people they knew had gotten before.

The conversation shifted to bruises—how we sometimes ended up with them after fights with other boys. From there, it turned to more serious injuries we'd seen or heard about.

Thanks to everyone being so concerned about the tiny cut on my jaw, I started to worry about it too. Now, I couldn't wait for it to heal and for the mark to disappear from my face.

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Enzo

Our school garden was filled with flowers. On my way to the gate, I noticed some rose bushes with large pink roses. They were so beautiful. I glanced around to make sure no one was watching. Pink roses reminded me of Mia—she looked like one when she blushed. Without thinking, I reached for the bushes and quickly plucked all the flowers, stuffing them into my bag. My hand got scratched by the thorns, and blood trickled down, but I didn't care.

"What happened to your hands?" Papa asked.

"Thorns," I replied. He took my hands and inspected them.

"I'll put some medicine on them when we get home," he said, and I nodded in agreement. Then, he checked my jaw.

"It's dry now. It's not a deep cut. It'll disappear soon," he said, looking at me.

Papa joined us for dinner tonight. When he noticed the scar on my face, he asked what had happened. He preferred to leave scars on my body—anywhere but my face and hands—so no one would know he was beating me.

However, he didn't beat me as often as he used to. When I was younger, he'd hit me for everything, but now it seemed he'd grown tired of his hobby. Juana didn't complain to Papa about me as often either.

"Juana slapped me," I said.

Juana remained silent, which surprised me.

"What happened to your hands?" Papa asked.

"Thorns," I replied.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Juana staring at the scar on my face.

Later, I placed the roses in a vase I found on a small table in my room. The vase already held some flowers, so I set them aside and used it for my roses. I overheard the servants searching for it later, but I pretended not to know anything. After all, it was just a vase. They would eventually find it in my room when they came to clean. Until then, I let them search frantically throughout the house.

"Oh, the missing vase?" Papa remarked as soon as he entered my room. I stayed silent as he inspected my jaw and hands.

"Rose thorns?" he asked, and I nodded.

"Where did you get them?" he inquired, but I didn't respond.

"Why do you need so many roses?" he asked again.

"They look beautiful," I replied.

Manuel

Enzo was unusually quiet today, and I couldn't help but wonder why. He had a bunch of pink roses, but he didn't say where he'd gotten them. If they were from the school bushes, it could mean he had done something he shouldn't have.

"You're quiet today," I observed.

He took off his t-shirt and turned away from me. "Are there any scars?" he asked.

"They're all gone," I reassured him, gently touching his clear back.

"It feels weird not getting beaten as often," he confessed.

"What? Why?" I asked, puzzled.

"It just feels strange," he replied, pulling his t-shirt back on.

"But it's a good thing," I insisted.

"Yeah, it's a good thing. I don't like getting beaten. I don't like scars," he admitted.