Page 2 of Beautiful Lies
Then I tiptoed to our bedroom door, put my ear against it and listened. Downstairs, I could hear the TV, an announcer’s voice talking about the bad things going on in the world. I eased the door open and checked the hallway. It was safe.Safe. I almost laughed out loud at that thought. But I wouldn’t.
I knew how to be quiet, so quiet, as I crept down the hallway, avoiding the squeaky floorboards that might give me away. It had been months since Seamus had done this, but the routine was the same.
I ran a washcloth under the water, gathered my supplies from the bathroom cabinet and returned to the bedroom, closing the door behind me.
I cleaned up Killian’s face as best as I could while he lay on the bottom bunk with his eyes closed. “Can you sit up?” I asked.
“Just leave it.”
“The tape makes it better. You said so last time.”
He sighed and got into a sitting position, his jaw clenched to fight the pain and keep from crying out. I helped him out of his pajama top then wrapped his ribs with the surgical tape. Firm but gentle so I didn’t hurt him any more than he already was. I tried to patch up all the cracks. Hold his broken body together. Like always, Killian didn’t even flinch.
When I finished, he lay down on the bottom bunk and I returned the supplies to the bathroom, rinsing the blood from the washcloth before I tossed it in the hamper. Sometimes I thought I should hang the bloody washcloth in Seamus’ room so he could see it first thing in the morning when he woke up, not drunk anymore. But that would be like waving a red flag at a bull.
I climbed into the top bunk and stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars I’d stuck on the ceiling a few months ago. Mrs. Garcia, our babysitter, gave them to me for my seventh birthday. I’d pointed them out to her in a shop one time and she’d remembered. When I’d first stuck them on the ceiling, I’d been disappointed that you couldn’t even see them. Turned out that stars needed darkness to shine.
“We need to tell someone,” I said.
“Who you gonna tell?”
I’d been over this in my head about a million times. My thoughts kept me up at night. I had too many of them racing through my head. Sometimes I couldn’t slow them down.
“Mrs. Garcia,” I said.
She was always nice to us, but she didn’t speak very good English and I doubted she understood half the stuff I said to her. I’d been known to pour out my heart to that woman and was always telling her stories, but all she did was smile and nod. She loved all the pictures I drew for her though and always called themmas bonitawhich sounded like a good thing. She gave us hugs and sometimes I wished I could just stay wrapped up in those hugs forever. Killian always broke free and said he was too old for hugs, but not me.
“Maybe I need to learn Spanish, so she’ll understand what I’m saying. Or I could draw her a picture, maybe. Or how about we tell Father Mc—”
“We’re not telling anyone,” Killian said.
“But maybe they can help us. Get us out of here.”
“Nobody will believe us.”
“They might. We can at least try.”
“Let’s say someone believed it, you know what would happen to us?”
Killian was only three and a half years older than me, but sometimes he acted like he was an adult and I was the stupid kid. “What?”
“Foster care.”
“That’s okay. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you,” I said, even though I wasn’t too sure what foster care was. But the wordcaregave me hope. “It’s gotta be better than this.”
“It’s not,” Killian said as if he knew exactly what foster care was like. That was Killian though. He knew a lot of things that most kids didn’t so maybe he did know. “Do you wanna be separated?”
“We’re brothers. They’ll keep us together.”
“Just promise me you’ll keep your mouth shut, okay? Keep it between us. Nobody needs to know what goes on in our house.”
I hated this. I hated the secrets and lies. I hated hiding in the closet like a big fat baby. I hated that there was nothing I could do to help Killian. I rubbed my chest, trying to ease the ache, but it never seemed to go away these days. Sometimes I felt like there were big cracks inside me. Like I broke a little more every time Killian took a punch.
“Promise me,” he said again.
I stared at the stars, wishing I could be anywhere but here. There must be something better out there. But if it meant being separated from Killian, I’d keep my mouth shut. I wasn’t a snitch or a tattletale. Not even my friends knew about any of this. “Promise.”
I heard him exhale as if he’d been holding his breath, waiting for me to agree. He had to know I would. I was always on his side and he was always on mine. It was us against the world.
