It All Started with a Lie

Chapter 21

My eyes grow wide as she pulls out a lighter and a needle. "Are you sure—" I start.

"Yes."

I sigh as she threads the needle. Then I assure her that I don't want to go to the hospital. "If you say so," she teases, straddling my lap.

She attempts to numb the area but it does nothing, however years of Sonny accidentally stitching my skin to fabric has prepared me for this, and I'll be damned if I let her see me wince.

She tries her best to be gentle as she stitches the cut and her tongue peakes out ever so slightly as she concentrates on making the stitches even. "Have you done this before?" I ask, biting back my smile.

She takes a second to answer, finishing up the last stitch. "Kavinski and his friends were never very kind to my brother, and my mother never believed him enough to take him to the hospital."

My sister has told me a little of her boyfriend's childhood, but every new bit I learn makes me respect him a little bit more. Even if he does look like he's going to pass out everytime we are in the same room. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head, knotting off the stitches. "It's fine, we don't ever have to see him again." She cleans a cut on my lip and asks, "how often do you fight?"

I wrap my hands around her waist, brushing circles into her skin with my thumb. "This is only my second. It's just a quick way to make some cash."

She lets me hold her, even though we both know I'm not supposed to, but then again, she's not supposed to worry about me, and I'm not supposed to feel bad for worrying her. But she does and I do.

"How did you even get into it?" She grabs a pack of child's bandaids, Barbie themed, and begins sticking them over my knuckles and the cuts along my body.

"My father used to take me to them when I was a kid." He would stand and make me watch until threw up, and then tell me to 'man up'.

Her features grow sad and I want to take it back so that the vibrancy of her emerald eyes will reappear. She covers it with a smile. "Well, my stitches are fantabulous, so it shouldn't scar."

"It's okay if it does." It won't, they never do.

"Hey!" She scolds, cupping my cheek in her hand, "what a travesty that would be. Can't taint your beautiful face."

Maybe it is because I have already told her so much, or because I know she loves when I talk about myself, or maybe it's simply because I want to tell her but I say, "It's my father's face. There is nothing beautiful about it."

She takes a long moment to just watch me, look at me, like she is trying to memorize my features, then she shakes her head softly. "Yes there is." She leans in slowly, like she expects me to pull away and when I don't she brushes her lips over my eyelids, kissing them softly. "You have Richards eyes." She kisses my nose. "And Sonny's nose." Next my cheekbone. "And this is all you, not Sonny, not Richard, not your father. Just you."

She kisses my every feature, trying them back to my family, and I hold my breath the entire time, staying perfectly still. Lastly, she kisses my lips and I can't hold back my smile any longer, though I certainly try. Her eyes grow vibrant once more at the sight. "And that," she whispers, "is my favorite part. That's all three of you, you all have that same breathtaking smile that I'm pretty sure could heal even the most broken of souls."

The thought that I have the same smile as my sister, her radiant smile, is the best of all. I can't possibly hate my smile if it is theirs as well. "So, see, nothing like your father."

It takes everything in me not to lean forward and kiss her, because I know that if I do she will see right through me, like she always does. She knows me too well. "Alexandria."