My family seems to be perfect from the outside looking in. We have the big house, the money for things, the million-dollar-smiles... but nothing is ever as it seems.
We're plastic. We're fake. So fake, in fact, that we hide the little things abo...
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I touch the back of my head gingerly, wincing from the pain of the bruise. My arms have a few dark spots forming and my shins have a bunch of cuts and bruises on them already.
I hear Tobiah knock on the bathroom door. He'd carried me up the stairs to our bathroom so we wouldn't dirty the guest bathroom.
"Am... Amabel? Are—are you okay?"
I look down at the sink, my body aching and tears still in my eyes. I wipe them away and take a breath as I open the door.
"I'm fine," I smile as the lie slips out from behind my teeth.
"Look, I'm... I didn't mean—"
"It's fine," I tell him as I waddle to the stairs. "I'm fine," I say more to myself.
"But Amabel, you fell d—"
"I said I'm fine, Tobiah," I smile again as I place my hand on the stair rail, the sensation of falling down the stairs making my chest tight. I can barely breathe.
Each step sends excruciating pain through my body, but I muscle through it. I can't show him he hurt me. He'll feel so guilty... and I can't live with making him feel like that. One day this will all be forgotten and we can go back to our happy plastic selves. We can pretend like this never happened and move on.
I stop at the top of my stairs and hold in the tears. I can't cry. I won't.
The inclination to my room hurts even more, but the reward comes when I collapse on my bed. My muscles relax and a sense of relief washes over me, tears wedging themselves in the corners of my eyes.
What am I going to do? I have to go to the movies with John... And I can't go like this. I could cover it up with makeup and hope it doesn't rub off by the end of the night.
I hear more furniture turn over and crash onto the floor in my brother's room, loud thumping and cracking sounds making their way through my floorboards. How did this happen to him? How did he get so mixed up in all of this? I'll have to ask him some day. If it ever comes up...
If he lives.
I let the tears fall.
So much crying. I've cried so much these past few days. It's so hard... but I shouldn't be complaining. There are people who have it worse off than me. I shouldn't pity myself.
The doorbell rings.
"Shoot," I whisper as I look at my phone.
John's here.
I hear Tobiah rush down the stairs and pause at the door as I hobble into the bathroom to get ready, limping down the stairs to the second story. John's footsteps get closer to the door as I rub makeup on the bruised areas gently to hide them.
"Amabel?" I hear John's voice, soft and sweet as he knocks politely.
