39. Mina
Chapter thirty-nine
A s I walk home from school, I can’t help but smile as I think about Tucker. He had us do yoga again today, and he somehow ended up placing me directly in front of him as he taught the class. That means I had a front-row seat to watch him stretch in his sweatpants and too tight t-shirt. He kept giving me brief glances throughout the whole class, making my blood rise in temperature.
Glancing at you, was on the flirting list. Is he flirting with me? His comment about fantasizing about him definitely seemed like flirting. He’s done at least five things on that list so far. Could it be a coincidence? Am I reading too much into it? Is my teacher actually interested in me? I don’t understand what’s going on here. There’s no way these seven super attractive guys could all be interested in me.
How did they even end up living together, anyway? I wasn’t even sure what Dom, Atlas and Ben did for a living, they were all home during the day when I visited. They definitely aren’t normal guys—there’s something strange going on with them and I need to know what it is before I can open up more about my own life.
I no longer think they’re reporting to my mother, I would have heard something from her by now if they were, but I still need to be careful. If they learn too much, they’ll run, and I’d be left alone again.
They say that friends don’t lie, but they could be omitting things just like I am. I just hope what they’re hiding isn’t as bad as what I am—and that they’ll be able to forgive me for my lies. That is, if I ever tell them, which I don’t think I can. I can’t imagine their faces when I tell them what my own brother has done to me.
At the end of my street, I make sure to remember to take my sweatshirt off today, and retie my braids. I shove it in my bag along with my phone, which is switched off. I even manage to get home ten minutes early. Confident that I’ve done all I can to escape my mother’s ire, I take a deep breath and head inside.
It’s quiet in the house, but as I step toward the bathroom, I’m yanked back by my hair, falling on my ass hard. “Where do you think you’re going?” my mother hisses at me. I point to my injured arm, hoping she understands I need to clean my wound. I know it was aggravated a few times today and needs a new bandage.
My mother narrows her eyes at my arm before speaking. “Your arm, let me see it.”
I unbutton my shirt, pull my arm out of the sleeve, and carefully unwrap the gauze. It’s really sticking to the wound today and is steadily growing worse every day. Without antibiotics and a clean environment, it just doesn’t seem to want to heal. I’ve never had this problem before, but I think it’s because this one is so deep. I also don’t think I’ve gone this long without medication for something this bad before.
I cringe as I basically rip off my skin and tissue while pulling the gauze free. My mother grabs my arm and yanks it painfully, inspecting the wound. “There’s soap in there you can use. You have five minutes. No dinner tonight. I don’t want to waste it if you’re just going to puke it up.” She throws my arm at me, making me grunt in pain, and walks away .
Why would I throw up? As soon as I start washing my arm, I understand. The pain of scrubbing it is unbearable. It feels worse than when it was inflicted in the first place, although I know that can’t be true. My stomach rolls with nausea and I work as fast as I can, rinsing out the soap and taking deep breaths to stop myself from passing out or throwing up.
I check my stomach wound, which is fading, but there’s not much I can do about the wounds on my back since I can’t reach them. They usually heal on their own if I’m careful not to sleep on them and reopen them. I lift up my shirt to inspect my side and see a large bruise wrapping around my ribs from the back. It looks bad but there is no cut I can clean or bandage so there’s nothing I can do about it.
Feeling I’ve done all I can, and being out of time, I quickly use the toilet, then head downstairs. I change into a large shirt and sleep shorts and lie in my bed on my stomach, staring at my phone. I can’t even remember how I survived without this connection to the outside world, and the guys before.
Still reeling from the pain of scrubbing at my wounds, I decide I need a distraction, and immediately, I think of my kind, protective twin.