Bruiser

I saw you yesterday. We had arranged for you to spend some time with your sister. She needed it more than you.

You were all sassy with your new gauges. You, who look about 12 years old, trying to look bad ass. It's your thing. Whatever.

The only disturbing thing about seeing you was seeing your bruises. Why? Why was your arm covered in bruises shaped like a hand and fingers? Why was there a bruise on your neck. What are you doing?

I didn't ask. Its clearly none of my business, but I can't help but wonder.

Your sister has been strangely quiet. What did you say? The mall was probably a bad idea. Time alone, just the two of you. God, I'm an idiot.

I don't know what to do with you. There is no best place to put you and I. We don't fit. Its a push and a pull. Your sister is in the middle. How do we avoid destroying her, while we try to figure out us?

My friends say, you shouldn't have contact with her. That doesn't seem right and we both know you would sneak around and see her anyway.

What do I do with you?