lucent (adj); softly bright or radiant
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My brother's hand traces the cut on my right cheek for some minutes. I have no idea how a cut can be so interesting, but I won't judge a book by its cover.
He unexpectedly moves and places a he...
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"Layla, sit down, please." The voice of my oldest cuts through the air like a knife. I stand there for two seconds, wondering what might have brought all of my brothers here, together, to have some sort of family meeting.
I take a sit on the nearest couch I find, in between Ezekiel and Nikolai (unfortunately). I'm facing Voski, who's on the parallel couch in the living room, staring at me expressionless but with a hint of an unusual sadness he doesn't let himself dwell on for too long.
I don't speak. My mind still trying to come up with an event that might have happened these past days, which might have gotten me in trouble. But there's none. Unless staying up in my room is the issue, there's nothing else. I'm pretty sure some of them would come up with an excuse just to get me in trouble. For instance, Nikolai or Mayne. The duo I haven't really hang around and gotten to know because nobody here makes an effort to.
Not that I'd ever be the first one to do so, they're adults, they should do it first unless they hate me up to a point where they don't care about my existence, which is what's happening right now.
There's an awkward silence between us momentarily. My brothers alternating between looking at each other and then snapping their gaze towards me; a sea of bluish and greenish eyes dancing around the room, a cycle, as if asking each other wordlessly who'll be the one to speak up first.
In the end it's Voski who does, obviously. The oldest in the room. How ironic.
"Layla," he begins calling out my name to bring my entire attention to him. The rest of my blood relatives gaze at him too, but I catch Lennox, Mayne and Ezekiel peeking at me from their positions before letting their eyes wander to our oldest brother. "Your brothers and I have talked and decided it would be best for you to go to a therapist."
My heart jolts in my chest, and not due to happiness. It feels as if all air from my lungs have exited my body for a foreign reason I'm not aware of. My hands shake a little and I clasp them tightly even though they are sweating a bit, resting them on my knees to make sure nobody notices this.
Therapist. Why a therapist? Why do they want me to go to a therapist?
These two questions remain in my mind for a long time. The six men on the room having their eyes on me, makes me anxious and self-conscious of what my answer will be.
I peek into Ezekiel's greenish eyes, full of concern and a hint of pity. Nikolai's show no emotion even though for a split second, I swear a flash of sadness crosses them. I stare into his twin's — Kipp's — emerald eyes, displaying — same as Ezekiel — worry. Mayne's eyes are hard and unsurprisingly, there's no emotion swimming in them. Lennox's are a carbon copy of Kipp's.
