semi-automatic ; j.d

fourty four ; gangsters don't cry

trigger warning ; violence

-

"you suck."

"you suck," mia shoots back, sticking her tongue out at her seventeen year old brother, anthony.

he rolls his eyes (something that obviously runs in the family) at her. "how old are you? five?"

she grins, "and three quarters."

it's the day before her younger brother's eighteenth birthday, and because she won't be able to make it to his party she decided to drive out to her mom's house and pick him up.

currently they're at the arcade at the movie theater competing in a heated game of air hockey.

anthony shakes his head at her with a small smile on his lips, like he's struggling not to grin. he hits the puck back over to her side, "i missed you."

"i missed you too," she tells him. it's not often that her younger sibling ever says anything of that variety, considering the fact that he's at the age where it's 'not cool'. "so how's school going?"

he shrugs his shoulders dismissively. "it's alright."

"mom told me you got a scholarship, full ride and everything," mia decides to bring up.

"yeah," anthony nods. his brown eyes are focused on the neon green puck as he hits with the paddle, sending it sliding across the table. "s'pretty cool, i guess."

she hits it back. "did you decide what you going to school for after graduation?"

"criminal justice. i'm gonna be a cop," he says, frowning ever so slightly with concentration. he bites his bottom lip out of habit, just like mia does.

"oh cool, like emilio?"

anthony makes a face at the mention of his stepdad. "no, like a real cop."

"what's that supposed to mean?" mia asks. she feels bad because anthony's the only kid left in the house and he hates their mom's husband.

"nothing," he says, shaking his head. although the look on his face doesn't seem like nothing. "you know how he is."

she does. her stepdad is either one of two things ; the nice, fatherly figure that tells you jokes and stands at the grill during a barbecue, or the asshole stepdad that has the world's shortest temper and the world's loudest mouth.

"well, yeah, but what does that have to do with his job?" she presses on and barely pays attention to the plastic puck when she hits it back.

anthony sighs with frustration. "he's a frickin drug dealer, for christ's sake. I don't know why mom even stays with him."

okay, so it's also a known fact that emilio gets high. a lot. while is ridiculously ironic considering the fact that he's a well respected police officer.

mia shrugs. "because he makes her happy," she says.

he scoffs bitterly, shaking his head.

"what?" asks mia. maybe she hasn't been around long enough that things have changed. "is mom not happy or something?"

anthony chews on the inside of his cheek, like he's debating telling mia something important.

"you wouldn't be happy if you were getting beat up by your drunk husband, either."

her eyes widen. "he's hitting her?!"

anthony slowly nods. he drops the air hockey puck and puts his hands in the pockets of his black sweatshirt.