beautiful thieves | ✓

three

My bottom lip has been chewed to shreds by the time I make it home that evening. It's an old habit that my mother always used to scold me for, and I'm expecting another lecture about it as soon as I walk through the door.

"I told you to stop doing this!" she says. She grasps my chin in her fingers and moves my head around, observing the dried blood and cracked skin. Before either of us can say another word, Connie enters the hallway, apple green eyes brimming with curiosity. I notice that she's wearing a purple beauty pageant dress and it looks as though it's sucking the life out of her. Mum lets go of my face.

"What's going on?" my sister asks in that sweet, honey-laced voice.

"Your sister's been biting her lip again."

Connie looks over at me, crossing her arms. "You shouldn't do that. No guy will want to kiss you while you do that."

"Fine by me," I snap, before throwing a quick apology at her when I see the warning in Mum's face. I take another look at my sister's pageant dress. The top bit is covered in thousands of silver rhinestones and looks very tight, while the bottom is a huge skirt speckled with sequins. "Can you even breathe in that?"

Mum diverts the attention back to herself. "Of course she can, don't be silly. Now, put some lip balm on and, for goodness sake, grow out of that habit."

I purse my lips, glancing from Connie, to my Mother, before running up the stairs with my teeth pulling at my bottom lip.

I spend the evening trying to relax. I manage to force myself into doing a piece of homework from one of my new classes. I binge through Netflix and find some random movie on my list to watch. I observe the world outside my window, enjoying the pleasant view of pink petals of a cherry blossom tree floating by and settling on the ground. It's when my stomach starts to rumble that I finally emerge from my room.

Making my way downstairs, I find that two things are able to put a smile on my face.

One is that Dad's home from work. He's sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen island, digging into a bowl of what looks like macaroni cheese while scrolling through his laptop. Another is that Mum has taken Connie to that beauty pageant. They won't be back for hours.

He beams as he notices me enter the kitchen. "Ah, how's my supposedly pregnant seventeen-year-old daughter doing?"

I roll my eyes, fighting a smile as I search around in the cupboard. "Don't even joke about that."

"Too soon?"

"Too soon."

I find my own can of macaroni cheese and prepare it, feeling my stomach continue to protest with hunger.

"The baby's talking to you," Dad says.

"Dad."

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, chuckling quietly. Although the pregnancy jokes are perfectly harmless, they bring back memories of Saturday morning and I never want to experience that shitshow again.

I lean against the surface of the island as I start eating, feeling satisfied with the silence of the house and the warmth of the food. It's quiet, almost too quiet, and it's not only me that feels it.

"It's weird without the twins," Dad says softly. "I almost miss them."

"Almost?" I smirk.

He shrugs. "Yeah. I don't miss them being little shits and ransacking the house, but I miss Tristan's twisted sense of humour and Sean's smiles. They always light up a room," he says fondly. Then he remembers I'm listening. "Don't tell them I told you that."