The Thistles of Rose

19 • Alleviated

T/W: Self Harm

Silver baubles and golden ribbon adorn the tall Christmas standing like a vintage ornament in the corner of our living room. Its glimmers match those of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Glittering tinsel and lights are tangled within the branches of the tree swirling up to the golden star at the top. Fairy lights hang around the room like vines.

As I fix in the last star-shaped light, Maya shoves her phone in my face with a jaunty, Christmas song in the back, filming her Christmas prep video.

"Oh, wow. Our Christmases were never like this," she gawks around the festive room.

"Really?" I tilt my head, jumping down from the chair.

A solemn leech sucks the joy out of her bubbly personality. Her lips sink down into a frown and her eyes go heavy.

Maya sighs, "they were quite lonely, to be honest. With my mom popping pills to her death, it was just me and Brando. Luca was never home but Brando tried his best to make it as nice as possible for me."

God really looked at us and thought: yeah, let's give them all a shit life.

"He's a really good brother. He loves you a lot," I smile.

"I know." Maya's gaze drifts outwards as she's yanked into her thoughts. A sad smile casts over her lips and her eyes fill with tears. I recognise that look as love and appreciation for the sacrifices her older brother has made for her.

Brando is extremely overprotective of her. He doesn't let her drink, go to parties, have a relationship or go within ten feet of drugs. When she dated Jamie, she kept that a secret from him. Lord knows he would've cut that boy up into pieces.

But I guess now that I'm here, he's more relaxed. After a lot of persuasion from me, he allowed her to go out with her friends but she has a curfew.

He also knows that she's started her period but respects the fact she finds it awkward telling him that.

Suddenly, she perks up turning to me, "but, it's like we all say. You made this house a home."

Her short blonde hair sways as she flings her arms around me in a hug. There's a depth to this hug. I don't know whether she's expressing her gratitude for Brando, me or both of us.

"And, finally, I have someone to match my pj's with," she pulls away, grinning.

"We'll buy some for Marco too," I quickly add, knowing he'll throw a hissy fit if he finds out we left him out.

She tilts her head in agreement and flops down on the couch, grabbing her phone. "Okay, now, don't disturb me. I need to edit my video."

I roll my eyes at her in response, sipping my hot cocoa.

The realisation hits me like a lorry truck in the middle of a highway. She posted a video giving a tour of our house to her 2 million followers.

Calla must've seen the video and showed it to Ricardo. That's how he knew his way around. That's how he knew where to attack me from.

But I can't tell Maya that. She'll feel guilty because she'll blame herself.

It's not her fault. It's Calla's. She brought him in. She hid him. He found his own way around. Maya had nothing to do with it.

Any clever person would know to come in from the garden. It's the back of a house.

It's not Maya's fault. She's just a kid. She doesn't know what she was doing.

A dull ache emerges from my fisted hand and when I unravel it, I see that the sharp corner of the star decoration has pierced into my skin like a piece of torn fabric woven with a dark red thread.