Later on, we play cards on the bed. Brooklyn is beating me at snap - one of my many favourite games. I sound a bit childish now but I don't care.
"Can we stop playing this?" He asks. I'm sure it's getting on his nerves that I fake-cry when I lose to each one he beats me to.
"Sure." I just shrug. Shrugging gets me out of questions easily.
Or statements.
Or anything for that matter.

Brooklyn gathers up all the cards and shuffles them. What's he doing? "Pick a card." He spreads them out on the bed, all of them faced down.
"Okay?" I question. I pick one up and identify it as the ace of spades. I smile. This was one of the main things of my childhood. My dad gave me an ace of spades before he left us. This was the thing that made my mother suicidal. She had no control of her own mind; she would do ridiculous things. She would smoke, drink liquor until she started to seem like she wanted to wash herself away with the liquid she was ingesting. My dad didn't tell us he was leaving. He left a note on the back of the card in his small handwriting. It read:

Don't try to find me. I'll be back before you know it sweetheart.
Promise
~ Dad.

He made a promise that he wasn't willing to keep. He didn't come back.

I hold on to the card like I don't want to lose it. I hear a muffled voice, which I assume is Brooklyn's. It breaks my reverie. "So, after all that... Are you okay with following those instructions?"
My reply: "Sorry?"
God! I did sound dumb.
"Don't show me the card but look in my eyes. After I click my finger, I will close my eyes and you will put the card back in a random place but facing downwards. Got it?"
"Sure..." I don't know if that was either a question or a statement.
He clicks his fingers and closes his eyes. I place the card back to the scatter of the pile. "Okay. Now what?"
"I'll gather the pile, shuffle them and try to pick out your card. Do you remember it?"
Yes, the ace of spades.
I nod my head, "Yeah."
He gathers the pile and shuffles them, so quickly I don't even see my card being moved to a new place in time. He picks the top card and I'm almost convinced he'll pick up the one I chose. "Queen of hearts?"
"What kind of trick is this?" I can't withstand the curiosity within me. I shake my head no to his question.
"One that's going to fail." He rolls his eyes after I shake my head.
"Fail?" I ask.
"Yes, fail. You know... Where someone doesn't do something correctly? I've only done this once and it's this time." He shrugs but he is still looking down at the card, shuffling them again.
He pulls out the second to top card from the pile and shows it me. "It's the 4 of spades?Still not the right one." I say - he's so close - I shake my head again.
"Okay then. How about this?" He hits his left arm with the card in his right hand.
"I'm confused..." I trail off.
"Put out your hand as if you are holding a tray like a waitress." He orders.
I try my best to make my hand perfectly straight. He places the card on it so I can't see what it the card shows. "What's happening?" I feel a tingle in my hand.
"Magic..." He trails off and laughs. My eyes widen. He shakes his head as if I believed him within that moment. "Just wait."
He turns over the card and it's still the 4 of spades. He turns it over again and slaps the card in my hand. "Why'd you do that?"
Brooklyn looks at my hand and turns over the card. The ace of spades? "Look at your palm." I look at it and see the ace of spades is printed on my skin. "You like?"
"If it's a free, permanent tattoo then, yeah."
He smiles.
"How d-"
"Like I said." He looks at me all smug. "Magic." He shrugs.

***

Christian storms back into the room as the door swings open, revealing a gush of wind which makes my hair float.
"What's wrong with you?" Brooklyn asks as he finishes eating his sandwich.
"I thought you don't care?" Christian snaps back as he takes his boots off. They both thump on the floor loudly.
"I thought questions couldn't be answered with questions?" Brooklyn bites back.
I'm just watching, sitting on the bed beside Brooklyn.
"I thought there was a mute button for your mouth but sadly, there isn't." Christian relaxes back on his pillow as he throws the boots on the floor.
"Oh shut it, would you?" I roll my eyes. I'll have to get used to this bickering. I haven't heard it in a while, considering my brother had been away from home so we didn't communicate as 'well' as we did when he was there.
Christian looks at me and gets up, alarmed, his eyes wide. "Nobody tells me to shut it!" He walks over to me slowly, taking short strides and coming in closer to me. "Why don't you, little girl, shut it yourself?!" He yells.
He grabs my arm, squeezing it. He pushes me down on the bed and I flinch. I cower under his strength. He is now over me, his legs move so he is now sitting on me. I can't help but feel awkward in this position with him.
"Get off her Christian!" Brooklyn grabs the back of Christian's shirt and grips on it tighter.
I struggle under Christian. "Let me... Go..." He lets go of my arm and grabs my neck. I cough.
"No. Maybe this will treat you to be respectful..." He hovers his face over mine before caressing my arm with his other hand.
"Christian!" I scream desperately in his face. "Get.. Off!" I cough again.
I turn my head and try to look over at Brooklyn but soon after I feel Christian's grip on my neck pulling my head to face him once again.
"So petty." His breath is hot on my face and I close my eyes, biting my lip in fear of what he's going to do.
"Okay..." I wince as his grip gets tighter on my neck. "I'll shut up." And he lets go.
I feel relief that I can grab air for my lungs so I can breathe.
He still hovers over me.
"What?" I try to spit in his face.
"God do I love to see you suffer." He says and kisses my cheek slowly, leaving a tingling feeling there. Brooklyn releases his shirt.
Christian pushes himself off the bed, his eyes fixated on me until he leaves the room. As he walks away, I can see a crease at the back of his shirt where he was held.

Once he's gone, I sit up and speak.
"What was that about?" I hold my neck gently.
Brooklyn shuffles across to me with a concerned look on his face.
"I'm fine," I don't know whether I say it with honesty or relief that he's gone.
"I don't see a girl that is fine." He grabs my hand and looks down on my bruised arm.
I look down too. The arm that was held by Christian is nicely bruised but his grip has left a hand mark.
"I'm fine." I feel warm under my own skin as I lie. I shift on the bed while Brooklyn still has my hand.
"And again, you do not look fine." His eyebrows rise as he looks up at me.
"I am." What am I actually?
"You're not. Your eyes tell a different story to your lips. You are very bad at lying." He chews the inside of his mouth as he finds it out. "Sorry. I'm just too good."
"At what? Thinking you know me?" I force it out.
"Not that. I hardly do know you. We only met a few days ago. But I mean reading people."
"You think you're psychic?" I almost laugh.
"I didn't say that." He shakes his head.
"But that's what it basically means, so yeah. You did."
"I am good at reading people." He shrugs as he says it. Bighead.
"You're n-"
"Especially you." He whispers with a smug smile on his face.
My face relaxes and the pace of my heart gradually starts to steady.