The Four Brothers ~ Completed

Capítulo Dezenove: As Palavras

Gemma's POV:

My brother runs a mafia.

That was the first thought that flew through my brain when I woke up. My second thought was that my mafia running brother carried me to bed because I acted like a big baby.

I rushed to grab some notebook paper and a pencil from a drawer in my nightstand and wrote down the entire conversation that I overheard.

I hid it in the sole of my left shoe. I was crafty like that.

What mafia did my brother run? My parents were immigrants from Brazil, so could it be the Brazilian mafia? But he was born in America. And from what I'd gathered about my grandparents, they'd been jerks but they hadn't been involved in any type of crime family.

Then again, it wasn't like any of my brothers would come out and tell me that.

My brothers!

There was no way the three others didn't know about Tobias being a mob boss.

A knock on my door interrupted my train of thought. After a five second freak out, I decided that they hadn't hurt me or done anything to put me in danger, so I would give them the benefit of the doubt.

"Hey, kiddo, you awake yet?" Sinclair asked, opening my door. I yawned while getting out of my bed. I had sat back down on the bed after hiding the slip of paper that had an exceedingly incriminating conversation on it.

"No." I grumbled, rubbing my palms over my eyes. Sinclair chuckled before sitting on my bed.

"What were you doing up at four in the morning?" Sinclair asked softly, picking at the skin of his thumb. He didn't know how to talk to me, that much was obvious. Maybe it was just kids that he had problems talking to, not just me.

Or maybe it was talking to someone he thought was innocent.

"I couldn't really sleep, so I hung out in here until I figured the kitchen would be open to make coffee." I shrugged, biting my pinkie finger nail. Sinclair nodded, but didn't move. I could tell he wanted to say something.

"You know Tobias cares about you, right?" Sinclair asked. I cocked my head and gave him a weird look.

Where was this coming from?

"I know. I'm almost a hundred percent sure he carried me to bed last night because I was acting like a baby." I said with a slight chuckle, ignoring the heat crawling up my neck and into my cheeks. Sinclair chuckled again.

"You know you talk in your sleep, right?" Sinclair asked, his smile dropping the slightest bit. I tensed.

When did I start sleep talking?

"I didn't know that. Anything embarrassing?" I asked, my smile tight and voice strained. Sinclair looked down at my sky blue comforter, his long eyelashes brushing against his cheeks as he did so.

"No, not quite. From what Tobias told us you were talking about not being loved and how much it hurt." Sinclair said gently, as if he didn't want to shock me. I arched an eyebrow, trying to think back to my sleep.

I didn't remember any nightmares, much less something like that.

"Sinclair, you do remember that I was neglected as a child, right? And how George used to push me around?" I asked with a small grin. Sinclair's fists balled up and his jaw ticked.

"Oh, trust me, none of us have forgotten." He whispered, a dark chuckle filling the empty space of the room. The darkness in his voice was enough to widen my eyes.

"Well, anyways, when I was tiny and naive I always wondered why George never loved me. I asked him time and time again why he didn't love me, what I did wrong. Sometimes he would tell me he wished I'd never been born, sometimes he would ignore me, and other times he'd simply push me away from him." I explained with a shrug. I wasn't acknowledging the deadly look on Sinclair's face.

"I'll keep that in mind. Excuse me." Sinclair choked through ground-together teeth. I could tell that he was trying to keep his temper in check around me.

I didn't really understand why they were all so angry about this. Sure, being told that my being born was a mistake really hurt my four year old emotions, but I'd already gotten past that. I had been slapped around but that was in the past.

Why were they so protective?

Why did it make me all warm and mushy inside?

And why did I like it?

Sinclair left the room in a hurry, the door slamming behind him. I flinched at the echoing sound. For a second, I thought my door handle was broken from the force Sinclair used.

I flopped back down on my bed, rolling over and stuffing my face into a pillow. I groaned loudly, but the sound was muffled. I had the feeling that the questions my brothers asked were only going to get worse.

Worse and more personal.

They didn't need to know about the torture that I'd been through. They didn't need to know about George's creepy friends. They didn't need to know how I lost my first kiss. They didn't need to know how many of George's friends had felt me up before I was old enough to understand what was going on.

They didn't need to know any of the horrible things I'd been through because I'd already been through them and didn't want to go through it again. And I especially didn't want to relive it with an audience.

I got out of bed, closing my eyes for second to brace myself. I knew that they would want to know everything but they couldn't know everything.

Everything was a lot. Like, a lot a lot.

I hadn't even noticed the lone tear falling from my eye until it dripped off my chin and hit my collarbone.

I wiped furiously at my eyes, not acknowledging the pain that came with running a scratchy sweater over sensitive eyes. I quickly ran into my attached bathroom and glanced over my appearance.

I didn't look like I'd been crying.

Alrighty. Time to pull on my big girl pants and deal with the repercussions of my words.