Chapter 20 - Sang

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"Sang, princess, are you okay?" Victor, my prince, frantically asks, his voice being overshadowed by the others.

"Cupcake!"

"Trouble, what the fuck!"

"Guys, what's happening to aggele?"

"Somebody help peanut!"

"Nathan, pick up Sang and carry her over to the couch, and be gentle!" Kota shouts, his voice rising over the others' and quieting them all in their fits of chaos.

Two large, warm arms pick me up and my breath runs ragged as I instinctively tense all over. I have to remind myself that these are my friends and they'd never hurt me. Never. But the tears streaming down my face in unrelenting fear don't seem to understand that.

Why am I crying?

Is it the pain or the fact that they have to see me like this, so broken? Maybe it's a little bit of both. My body is aching all over. And yet again I wonder: how in the world did I forget I have so many bruises before playing a game that involves flexibility and movement?

I try to tell them I'm fine somehow, even through the tears, but I'm unable to sign at the angle I'm lying in, in Nathan's strong arms. So when he finally sets me down on one of the big couches, I get a chance to reassure them I'm fine. I'm not crying because my body feels like it's about to shatter into millions of pieces. I'm crying because I have something in my eye.

Yeah, they'll totally believe it.

So I sign, "Don't worry about me, guys. I'm totally cool. Just got something in my eye. You know how it is."

They all frown, though for most of them it's because they can't understand what I'm saying.

"You got something in your eye? Yeah, like we're gonna believe that shit," Luke scoffs, crouching down in front of me to take my face in his hands and gently caress away my tears. Oh yeah, I forgot I was still crying. Maybe that's why they don't believe me.

I would just tell them, but I don't want them to worry for me more than they already do. "You're hurt, Sang. We already know what happens at home; you don't have to hide the truth from us anymore," Kota assures, his voice soft, like he's talking to a wounded animal or a child. That's probably exactly what I look like to them right now, anyway. So I guess it fits.

I shake my head defiantly. They will not see the bruises. At least not more than the glimpse they already had in the car. They may know, but they don't know. Nor will they ever understand. With a sigh, I take Luke's hand that is still resting on my cheek into my own two hands and squeeze softly, enjoying the comforting sparks as they light up my skin. With his larger hand in my own significantly smaller one, I flip it over so that his palm is facing me and slowly lean down to place a lingering kiss. He shivers under my touch, though I don't really now why. He must be cold.

I carefully set his palm down on my lap and sign, "Notepad," knowing Gabriel is kind enough to get it for me. I don't want to have a conversation in front of all of these boys while only two can actually understand me. He does as I expected and goes to fetch it from the coffee table where it was placed last, bringing it over to me with the pen and a smile. I smile back gratefully and take it, preparing to write.

Luke takes this as his cue to stand and back up to give me space. I send him a small smile, too. Then I write, "It's not hiding the truth. I know you know, but I just don't want you to see. I don't want you guys to worry."

Silas's voice is projected at reading my note, reminding me he's here. I'd completely forgotten when I basically collapsed on the floor. My stepmother would've called it 'overdramatic' and forced me to get up before forcing me to make her supper. "Aggele, we've already seen some of your bruises, anyway. And I promise we'd never judge you, but I can't promise not to worry. I've worried for you ever since I met you." My heart flutters at his words but halt at the sound of a new voice, the one I'd heard earlier accompanying Silas's, his voice bold and deep.

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