El Santo by M. Robinson (2)

Four. Years.

Four fucking years since I faced the brutal reality of my fucked up life. The true meaning of what communism and our government stood for.

Corruption.

Salazar destroyed our nation and completely degenerated the Cuban people. He resented the upper crust who he believed sold their souls to “Yankee capitalists.” Only serving the interests of the rich and oppressing the poor. He loathed everything the United States symbolized. Especially their capitalistic and imperialistic way of life.

Except, Emilio Salazar was an extremely intelligent and charismatic man. He targeted the poor and uneducated first, guaranteeing them free everything. “I wanted what you had, but I didn’t want to work for it,” was his motto. Promising everyone equality was how he triumphed to begin with. Using the fact that the lower-class population was much larger than the middle and higher classes. Salazar knew they wouldn’t know any better, so he took advantage. In their eyes, he was just the modern-day fucking Robin Hood, taking from the rich to give to the poor.

It was all a bunch of bullshit lies.

A fairytale you told a child at night.

The moment he stepped foot into office, all the wealthy, educated professionals fled Cuba. They found refuge in other countries, including the opposing side. The one country Emilio despised so damn much—the United States. Where they could still prosper and live their comfortable lifestyle they worked so hard for. Pretty much telling Salazar to go fuck himself. Fully aware that Cuba would turn to shit, with no social class regime.

Emilio Salazar’s revolution was nothing but a revolution of envy.  

His motive for everything stemmed from power. He thrived on control, using it over the less fortunate. In his eyes, everyone was beneath him. At his mercy. Sure, he wanted equality for all, but only if the “all” stayed where they belonged. On their goddamn knees, bowing to him. He was an egomaniac who hated his own people. There were no colors. There were no options. If you weren’t his friend, you were his foe. If you weren’t with him, you were against him. 

Traitors, as he called them. 

You had to become your own worst enemy in order to survive his hell.

Marching in line. 

Following his orders. 

Doing his fucking dirty work. 

I was oblivious until I saw his true colors. By that time, it was too late to do anything. It was much easier to stand beside him than to betray him and pay with my life. I couldn’t do that to Amira, she’d already lost too much. There was no way I’d let her lose me too.

So instead, I paid with my soul.

Condemned.

Monstrous.

At the end of the day, what other fucking choice did I have…

I was twenty-two-years-old with so much blood on my hands already. I was surprised I could still see my skin. 

I killed. 

I tortured. 

I played fucking God while I was rotting in Hell. 

Slaughtering men and women. Taking the lives of anyone Salazar said had to go. Yes, Emilio was my leader, but I wasn’t up in the crevice of his asshole like everyone else was. Nor did I kiss it. He may have owned me in one way or another, but he didn’t own my balls.

I still did what I had to.

Fulfilled duties on my own terms.

When I wanted, how I fucking wanted.

I drew the line at harming a child. I wouldn’t so much as touch a hair on their heads. Not after Amira. Standing my ground, the first time I told him no, I thought he was going to put a bullet in my head, but instead I became his favorite. Probably reminding him we were one in the same. Everyone knew I was Salazar’s main soldier and wasn’t to be fucked with. Not many attempted to anyway. However, there was always that one motherfucker, here and there, who wanted to be top dog, and I had to set them straight.

I was alpha.

End. Of. Story.

I didn’t take shit from anyone. Not even Emilio himself.

The offenses ranged from being as severe as someone plotting to take Salazar down, or as insignificant as a person telling me to go fuck myself. The punishment was always harsh though, no matter what the crime. It could range from death to torture, or plain imprisonment. No one disrespected me, I made sure of it. There were no imaginary lines. I’d crossed them all. No boundaries. No second chances. No redemption. 

Not for me.

For them. 

For anyone. 

I planned and led ambushes against possible foreign attacks. Went on killing sprees. Raided homes, businesses, and even colleges, where he believed rebels were staked out. I orchestrated firing squads, ripping civilians from their beds in the middle of the night. Ordering them to face the wall so I could shoot them in their backs. Making it much easier to kill several traitors at once.

I witnessed and participated in it all.

Somewhere along the way in the last four years, I stopped allowing myself to feel, to think, to dream of another life. I became desensitized to it all. Now, I just did whatever I was ordered to do, without giving it a second thought.

Becoming as feared as Salazar himself.

The most fucked up part of it all was I took pleasure in it. The apple never falls far from the tree, and I was no fucking exception. You’d be surprised what the human psyche was capable of when it had no other choice. Only the strongest survived, and I would always make it out alive.

I didn’t know darkness and evil lurked inside of me until I had to murder in order to thrive in this life. The control, the power, the sins of it all were just as addicting as they were afflicting. Consuming every last part of my being.

Becoming the fucking monster they trained me to be.

Inflicting mental torture on prisoners was a thing of the norm. A tactic I enjoyed participating in the most. For the last week, I’d spent my mornings with inmate, Vicente Reyes, prisoner 95708. He was sentenced to twenty years behind bars for killing a handful of Cuban soldiers. We needed the names of the men he orchestrated his terrorist attack with, and he had yet to provide us with even one.

I nodded to the prison guards as I made my way inside the interrogation room for the seventh straight day, dismissing them. Vicente was seated at the head of the long rectangular table, positioned in the middle of the room. Forgoing his usual seat on the side where he’d been sitting for our previous meetings. His glare immediately shifted from his shackled wrists to the box in my hands.

Waiting.

His curiosity becoming more evident with each passing minute. I knew what he was trying to do. Reading a suspect’s body language was a talent I had perfected over the years. Nothing got pass me. The way his index finger on his right hand twitched slightly every few seconds. How his jaw was clenched as the muscles on his neck tensed. No matter how hard he tried to avoid it, I could see his pulse rapidly beating from the visible distance between us. Vicente wanted to come off all hard and unfazed, but I could smell his bullshit from a mile away. Although, I had to give credit where credit was due, the man had some brass fucking balls, sitting parallel to me.

He was trying to portray our interrogation as some sort of power struggle that day. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t fucking amused by his disposition. The motherfucker hadn’t been cooperating, not even with the electrocution or the depravation of food for weeks at a time. Making him starve until he was all skin and fucking bones. Fatigued as fuck from the daily beatings, the hard labor, and the solitary confinement.

None of it was working. So I decided to bring him a gift. 

I grinned, placing my gun down on the table with the barrel pointing directly at him, setting the black box beside it. Nonchalantly unbuttoning my military jacket before taking a seat on the opposite side of him. I leaned back into my wooden chair, making myself comfortable. Noticing his eyes hadn’t wavered from the package, not even for a second. I didn’t pay him any mind, wanting the anticipation to build. Knock the motherfucker down a few notches before delivering my final blow.

“What did you think, Vicente? That you were going to be a brave soldier? Out to do away with the revolution? With Salazar? Attempting to go against your government, against your country. Against your own people… Killing true soldiers who were fighting for their revolution.”

He didn’t hesitate, confessing, “Absolutely. I’d do it again, if I had another chance,” he spat with a sadistic grin spread across his face.

I leaned into the table, arching my eyebrow with my hands clasped together out in front of me. “A real man would’ve gotten the job done the first time. He wouldn’t need another chance.”

He shrugged, biting his lower lip. 

“Your anti-communistic way of life didn’t do shit for you, except land your ass in prison. You’re a poor excuse of a man. You failed everyone, Vicente. The conspirators you organized this attack with, your régime.” I paused, allowing my words to sink in. “Not to mention your family.”

“My fami—”

“You’re nothing but a disgrace to our country. To your children’s children. I highly doubt your kids could even look upon their old man with pride in their eyes, knowing he’s a fucking failure. Rotting behind bars. Your parents are probably rolling over in their graves in shame.”

His fists clenched, his nostrils flared, and his face paled. My words clearly affecting him, far worse than any physical torture I could ever inflict. My job was to demoralize Vicente, a task I executed with joy. Breaking a man lifted me in ways I never thought possible. It empowered my rage, making me feel like fucking God. Superior to him and all the others who attempted attacks against our country.

“I did… I’m… that’s not…” he stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. His ego eating him alive.

“You’ve done your country wrong, Vicente. It’s a good thing there’s no mirrors in this hell hole. I’d hate to be you and have to look at myself every fucking day, knowing I’m nothing but a piece of shit. The bottom of the barrel. Fuck, it all makes sense now, no wonder why your wife didn’t put up too much of a fight. She’d been waiting for a real man to come along all her life.”

He jerked back, breathing out, “My wife?” His manic thoughts taking over.

I slid the box across the table, hitting his arm that was resting on the surface; it stopped a few inches away from his face. His head flew back startled, locking eyes with me. I could see his anxiety radiating off him, fueling the fiend inside of me.

He swallowed hard, holding his chin up higher. Acting unfazed.

Provoking me.

“I bring you a gift, and I have yet to hear you thank me,” I mocked in a condescending tone, breaking the sudden silence.

“A gift?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. Confused and overwhelmed all at once.

“Did I stutter? Go ahead, open it.”

He hesitated for a moment before reaching out his trembling hands to grab the box. The panic dwelling inside of him with each passing second. No longer the tough son-of-a-bitch he once portrayed.

As he started to lift the lid, I added, “Someone once told me the only way to make a man pay for his sins was through the ones he loved the most.”

“What the fuck?” he murmured in shock, grabbing the severed female finger from the box. Immediately recognizing the wedding band prominently on display.

His mouth quivered, and his body shook. I saw him swallowing down the bile rising in his throat. I imagined the memories of his wedding day were too much for him to bear. The emotions from seeing his beautiful bride walking down the aisle were flooding back. I could see it in his eyes, it was one memory right after the other. It was crazy how much significance one small finger could have. He was visibly shutting down.

It was time to break him entirely.

“I know how much you miss her. Aren’t you going to thank me now?”

His chest heaved with anger as he threw the finger back into the box and shoved it away. Quickly making the sign of the cross with his shackled wrists.

I stood, placing my hands in my pockets. Casually making my way over to him. “The only god in this room, is me. Now confess the names I want, or I’ll be paying your wife another visit. Only next time, it will be her fucking head in that box.” 

“Maria… no… please, God, no…” He bowed his head with the shame and regret I wanted him to feel.

“Don't worry, she didn't scream too much,” I sympathized, leaning forward close to his ear. “Not with my cock in her mouth.”

“You motherfuc—”

I crudely gripped onto his throat, jerking him backward in his chair. Slamming his body onto the ground near my boots. I held him down. “That’s the thanks I get for bringing you a piece of your wife?”

He instantly grasped onto my hand, kicking his legs out from under him. I choked him harder, placing my knee on his sternum, squeezing the air right out of him. His face turned red and his eyes began to water as his life was being drained out of him.

By me.

“Someone needs to learn some goddamn manners, and lucky for you…” I hovered close to his face. “I’m just the man to teach you.” And with that I cold-cocked him, knocking him the fuck out.

He came to when I was dragging his soaking wet body, by his collar, out of the lake behind the prison. Convulsing, sucking in the air I was ruthlessly denying him. Choking on the water that took up occupancy in his throat and lungs. Spitting up god knows what. He staggered to find his balance, falling to his knees on the murky shore. His hands being cuffed behind his back, along with his ankles, didn’t help his current predicament. 

I ignored him as he visibly struggled, trying to get loose. Confused by the turn in events. Still not realizing he wasn’t going anywhere unless I wanted him to. There was nowhere else I’d rather have him than at my mercy. I waited until he tired himself out. Until there was no fight left in him, and all he could do was roll over and play fucking dead. I was used to the hysteria that came along with my violent acts. It was all part of the job.

I leaned forward, close to his ear again. Cocking my head to the side, I rasped, “Give me the names.” 

He heaved, his chest rising and falling with each second that passed. Desperately trying to regain his breathing and stay conscious.

“I didn’t hear you,” I taunted. This time grabbing ahold of his neck, shoving just his face back into the water. Holding him under as his body fought to get free. 

As I hauled him back up, he choked out, “My Lord and Savior!”

I viciously smiled, bringing his face right in front of mine to glare into his eyes. “How’s that working out for you? Where the fuck is he now?” 

His dark pools met mine, spewing, “You’re going to rot in Hell for this.”

“I’m already there, motherfucker.”

“I did what I had to do! I killed those soldiers for the good of our people! Anyone who stands by Emilio Salazar deserves to die!”

“Is that right?” I chuckled, dragging him back under the water. Holding him down longer that time. Watching his air bubbles come few and far between. I waited, not allowing the traitor to die. Drowning him over and over again to the brink of death, till his body pleaded with me to end it all. 

“Please…” he whispered, trying to catch his breath.

“Please, what?”

“Please… have compassion…”

“Compassion for a man who murdered five of my men? Eye for an eye, motherfucker. You reap what you sow. You have one last chance to confess names, or my next stop will be your house. I’ll just wait till your daughters are home this time. I always wanted to fuck sisters,” I deviously chuckled, feeling his heart pounding against my grip on his neck. His nostrils flared while his mind reeled with uncertainty. “Count with me, one… two… times up!”

“Maur… his name is… Maur… Mauricio! His name is Mauricio Gonzalez!” he screamed out then spit in my face.

I abruptly let him go, causing him to sink further into the water. He froze, waiting for my next move. I looked him in the eyes and nodded toward the guard, silently ordering him to get out of my face.

“Are you—”

“If I wanted to have a conversation, I would’ve asked you a question. Go!”

He breathed a sigh of relief, cautiously backing away from me, getting out of the water. Turning around once he was on the shore and walking toward Federico, the guard.

At the last second, I called out, “Vicente!” He spun back around as I slowly wiped his spit off my cheek with the back of my hand. His eyes instantly widened, realizing what I was now holding.

Tilting my head to the side with dark and dilated eyes, I reminded him, “You never fucking thanked me.” Pulling the trigger, I blew his head off.

Splattering his blood and brains behind him in the sand. Immediately taking him to join all the other souls I collected in this very place.

“Another one? Jesus, man. Can’t we keep any of them alive?” Federico nonchalantly laughed.

“Someone had to teach him some manners,” I stated as I made my way out of there. It was close to dinnertime, and I needed to get to Amira before six; that was our daily routine more often than not.

This motherfucker made me lose track of time, and I hated to keep her waiting. Worrying something bad may have happened to me. She was the only light in my life, but she wasn’t a little girl anymore. No longer a child I could lie to. She was thirteen, and the older she got, the easier it was for her to read through my bullshit excuses. I started to make it a point that the only time she saw me was when I knew my demons were at bay.

When I could be the person she needed. The one who saved her, took care of her, and protected her. Yet to acknowledge that I was one of the men who tore her world apart. She was expecting me, but I was taking a gamble on who would show up for her. I contemplated that before I even got into my car.

Amira was the only penance I had. 

Eternally battling the hell I was already burning in.

I sat on the ledge of my reading nook in the living room, with my back against the comfy pillows and Yuly at my side. Failing miserably to stay focused on the task at hand. Homework. My mind dancing from one random thought to another.

“Amira, Mamita, you’ve sat by that window every evening at five o’clock for the past four years. Do you really think I believe you’re studying?” Rosarío asked with humor in her tone.

I smiled sweetly, peering up at her. “I am studying, Mama Rosa. I just happen to like sitting in the sun while I do so.”

She nonchalantly nodded to the window beside me, stating the obvious, “It’s raining and gloomy out today.”

“Oh, yeah... I knew that. This is just my routine. You know how I am, a creature of habit. I like things to stay consistent and stuff. That’s all.”

She arched an eyebrow, cocking her head to the side. “I may be old, but I’m not stupid, Amira. I know you’re waiting for Damien. You claimed that as your spot since the first day Damien brought you home. Why do you think he built this nook for you? He knows you will always be waiting for him. It brings him comfort.”

I smiled wider. It brought me comfort waiting for him too. Damien built the space for me three years ago for my tenth birthday, after he caught me waiting for him by the window one evening. It was a cozy little niche with a cushioned bench that overlooked the front yard. It quickly became my favorite place to curl up with a blanket and pretend to study. This time, I had my English dictionary open in my lap, pretending to practice the words my tutor, Charo, assigned me to work on over the weekend. Absentmindedly trying to remember the last word I read for the tenth time, but I couldn’t.

My mind was somewhere else entirely.

“You’re not old. You’re only forty-two. And you’re beautiful, Mama Rosa. You don’t look a day over thirty.” 

“Oh, bless your heart, sweet child. Wise beyond your years, I tell you. Though I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Mamita, but Damien may not come today.”

“He’ll be here. He comes most days, and besides, he always tells me when he can’t because of work,” I said, cringing at the fact that Damien still had to work for the monster.

She smirked, shaking her head. “Whatever you say. Finish up your day-dreaming about Damien, and go get washed up for dinner. I made your favorite.” Rosarío kissed my forehead and walked out of the living room, whispering something under her breath I couldn’t make out.

To be fair it wasn’t only Damien preoccupying my thoughts. All of a sudden, I was feeling nostalgic. For some reason that day, I couldn’t help but remember how the first year had been the hardest for me here. How adjusting to my new life without my family was an experience I never imagined I would have to go through. Damien spent every second he could, keeping me company. He stayed with me as much as possible, making sure I was well cared for mentally, physically, and emotionally. Doing his best to tend to my needs, wanting to make the transition easier on me. He was the best listener too. I couldn’t count how many nights he spent with me on the porch swing out back, letting me tell him about my happy memories, or vent when I needed to. Though every time I talked about my family, I could see the pain in his kind eyes, and just as quickly as it appeared, he would blink and it would be gone.

As much as I opened up to him about my family, he never let me in on his feelings. He had the perfect façade in place for four years now. It was like he had built a wall around his emotions concerning that night. There were no cracks, no slips. Nothing could bring it down, not even me. I knew deep in my heart he felt responsible for my family’s death. He carried this guilt around with him that weighed heavy like a wooden cross on his back. No matter how I saw it, the reality of the situation was, in his mind…

Their three lives.

Their three souls.

Were a burden he would forever carry on his own.

The night Damien entered my life was the best and worst day of my existence. I owed a lot to him for saving me. I knew he didn’t believe it or even understand it, but I never blamed him for my family’s deaths.

Not once.

It wasn’t his doing, he didn't orchestrate it. Emilio did. Damien played a part, but the alternative would’ve led to his death, and if he had died, I would have died too.

So, he played the monster’s game, and we both made it out alive.

Since then, Damien was a pillar in my life. He provided me with a safe and affectionate home, with a loving woman who was now like a mother to me. Rosarío always made me feel wanted and cared for as if I was her real daughter. From the moment I stepped foot into her house, she loved me. Always being there to comfort me when I needed to talk about my feelings or just cry. Which was typically over a big bowl of ice cream to drown my sorrows. She was adamant that food made everything better.

Both of them would make me laugh and smile on a daily basis. Giving me hope when all I had was despair. They were the only two people I had left in this world. They meant everything to me. As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, and the months turned into years, I realized what Rosarío had told me the night we first spoke, couldn’t have been more accurate. They were my family now. They truly were the best thing that could have happened to me, after losing my own.

Damien would spend the night at Rosarío’s often, instead of going back to his apartment. Somehow knowing I’d need to see a familiar face in the middle of the night, when my dreams turned into nightmares. He’d lay with me, playing with my hair or rubbing my back until I fell asleep again. Sometimes he couldn’t be here though, off fulfilling his obligations to the monster. On those nights, Rosarío would take his place, warming me up a glass of milk as I tried to shake off the emotions that my bad dreams usually evoked. Neither of them ever made me feel bad about disturbing their sleep, though.

I hadn’t seen or heard from Emilio Salazar or any of his men since the night he murdered my entire family. Damien made sure to cover all the tracks, going as far as telling Rosarío’s neighbors and friends that I was her niece. Later in private, letting them know that my parents had unexpectedly died in a fire and she was now my guardian. Wanting to prevent any emotions the truth may invoke in me. I don’t know how Damien did it, but within the first few weeks he was able to provide me with a whole new identity. The only part of my past that remained the same was my name.

Amira.

He said it was the one thing he couldn’t take away from me. As far as Emilio and his men knew, I burned in the fire right alongside my family that night, and I guess in a way, I had. Damien didn’t just save me, he gave me a whole new life. One I would’ve never had the chance to live before. I had the best tutors and an education most people dreamed of, learning subjects I didn’t even know existed. I also had the nicest clothes, from dresses, to pants, to blouses and t-shirts. It was endless. Damien never allowed me to want for anything. Neither did Rosarío.

“Amira, I’m going to walk over to Carmen’s for a bit. She needs help with her torticas de moron,” Rosarío shouted from the kitchen. “Please go get cleaned up! Oh, and check on dinner while I’m gone!”

“I will, Mama Rosa! I promise!” I yelled back as the side door shut behind her.

It didn’t take long after she left for Damien to pull into the driveway. I smiled, big and wide as he parked his car next to Rosarío’s, turned off the engine, and grabbed something from his passenger seat. Instinctively knowing it was probably something for me. I watched as he stepped out onto the pavement with a new doll firmly in his grasp, silently giggling to myself, I was right. He started bringing me gifts the day after I innocently shared that my papi use to do the same when he was away for work. Damien hadn’t realized I was thirteen and getting a little too old for dolls. But I would never tell him that.

The sentiment behind his reasoning being too important to him.

He leaned against the hood of his car, looking down at the ground, as if he needed a minute to gather himself before coming into the house. His long, curly hair hid his deep-set hazel eyes that always held so much emotion behind them. Over the years I’d grown to read what he was thinking, feeling, expressing all at first glance. He closed his eyes, shaking his head, and pushed off the car to walk toward the front door.

I would be lying if I said it didn’t seem like there were two sides to Damien. The man he was with us, and someone else entirely when he wasn’t. His personality was extremely somber and serious most of the time. Probably stemming from being a soldier and being raised by one too. His whole demeanor screamed military man, even the way he walked was stocky and abrasive.

Damien didn’t like to be teased, as harmless as it may be. He could do the teasing, but the second you turned it around on him, it was a different story. He’d get all butt-hurt about it, which only provoked me to do it more. I would mimic his stride when I knew he was watching me, just to make him laugh. I’d stand tall with my arms straight at my sides and a stern look on my face.

He’d try not to laugh until I would imitate his deep voice, saying random things like, “Hi, my name is Damien and I walk around like there’s a stick up my butt. I have no sense of humor. And all I want is for Amira to study, so she has the best education and grows up to be the smartest woman in the world. But she’s already smarter than I am, I just haven’t admitted it out loud yet.”

My teasing usually ended with him tickling me to the floor. Always using the fact that he was much bigger than me to his advantage. I’d call him a bully, and he’d call me a brat.

Rosarío would always reprimand me for acting silly and making fun of Damien, but I could see it in her eyes; she actually enjoyed seeing him laugh or smile because of my antics. Only confirming what I knew all along without me ever having to ask her. She’d been waiting all his life for someone besides her to care about him enough, to know there was more to him hidden beneath the fatigues, or what he thought he needed to be.

Whatever that was.

I jolted when I heard the front door slam a little harder than usual. Immediately looking down at the dictionary in my lap. Damien wanted me to be multi-lingual just like him. I was learning English, French, Portuguese, Italian, and Spanish. I thought I spoke Spanish correctly, so when Damien politely said it wasn’t the proper or educated way of speaking, I was a little embarrassed. I knew he wasn’t trying to hurt my feelings, he was aware the school I attended in El Campo wasn’t anywhere near as skilled as the tutor he hired for me. Charo was one of the most elite in Santiago—a sweet, older woman who reminded me a lot of Rosarío. Her hair was always pulled back in a bun, smelling like fresh baked goods. She studied in a European boarding school. A place where nuns lived, a monastery is what she called it.

Damien was very intense about my schooling, always expressing how important it was for me to have the finest education. Constantly encouraging me to reach above and beyond what was standard in knowledge, aptitude, and life in general. Saying it would make me a well-rounded young lady, which he felt Cuba needed more of.

Damien’s boots pounded against the floorboards with each step he took through the house. I sat up tall, smiling, eagerly waiting for him to enter the living room and greet me in whatever language he wanted to practice that day, like he always did. But instead, he walked in and tossed the doll on the couch near me, not saying a word. My smile quickly faded as soon as I looked up from my studies to meet his gaze, and he suddenly turned his back to me. Leaving the room without so much as acknowledging me for the first time ever and made his way toward the kitchen.

I jerked back, confused. 

Did I do something wrong? Was he mad that I wasn’t really studying? 

I waited for a few seconds before I stood and grabbed my new doll, following after him. Anxiously needing to know what was going on, thinking maybe I misinterpreted things. Nothing about the way he was acting was normal. I slowed my pace the closer I got to the kitchen, each step calculated and precise. My heart was racing a mile a minute, the closer I got to crossing the threshold into the unknown. Never in a million years did I ever expect to encounter…

The other side of Damien Montero.

When I walked through the swinging doors, he was standing in front of the stove with his back to me.

I didn’t waver. “Hey, tout va bien?” I asked in French, “Hey, is everything alright?” Trying to maintain our normal, calm routine. Silently hoping it would make him smile, knowing he loved it when I showed him how much I was perfecting another language.

“Amira, how many times do I have to tell you not to leave the fucking stove on?” he snapped in a tone he had never used with me before.

I winced, completely caught off guard by his demeanor. “I didn’t… Mama Rosa did. She went—”

“I don’t give a fuck where she went!” He slammed the wooden spoon on the counter, causing his back to tense and his muscles to constrict.

My eyes widened, and my body jolted again. Stunned by the drastic turn of events with his dominant, demanding, controlling presence looming over the stove.

“When I tell you to do something, I expect you to fucking listen to me,” he ordered in an eerie tone, making my lip quiver and my body tense.

I shook my head back and forth. “I… I … I do. I al—”

He abruptly turned around, rendering me speechless and was over to me in three strides, ripping the doll out of my hand. Still not fully looking at me, he spewed, “I don’t want to hear your bullshit excuses. You can’t do anything right, can you? Your pronunciation is horrible, have you even been studying? I’m not paying to have the most prestigious tutor in Cuba, if you’re going to fuck off!”

“Damien…” I gasped, taken back.

Where was the person I would catch up on every last detail of my day with? The man who seemed to look forward to our conversations as much as I did, like they were the best part of his day too. Where he’d nod his head or grin when I’d say something amusing, which was often. All while he listened intently to everything I had to share. It didn’t matter how trivial or unimportant it was. It meant something to him, because it meant something to me.

And to a thirteen-year-old girl, that meant everything.

I wanted him to fully face me. Look into his eyes like I had done so many times before, knowing they would show me everything I needed to see. But I was terrified of the man who’d be staring back at me. Adrenaline and fear surged through my veins. The thought alone caused shivers to course down my spine. I shuddered at the mere thought of making that connection.

“What?!” he roared, flexing his hands into fists at his side. His knuckles turning white from the pressure of his grip.

I should’ve run out of the room, but the expression on his face held me captive to the ground beneath me.

“Jesus Christ, Amira. Were you this needy with your papi? Always up his ass, begging for more fucking attention? Don’t I give you enough of that already? All I do is provide for you! Bring you gifts, help you study, put food on the table, and a roof over your head. I’m exhausted tending to all your needs! It’s like I’m raising a child, and I didn’t even fucking get laid! I didn’t ask for this life!” he viciously spat, stepping toward me. I instinctively stepped back in fear, only fueling his fury. “And you still haven’t fucking thanked me for your gift! Why don’t you just go run along and play with all your precious goddamn dolls that I’ve paid for.”

He threw my new doll at my feet, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Oh my God! Who are you?” I blurted, already knowing the answer.

His gaze finally met mine, except it wasn’t his kind eyes staring back at me.

They weren’t familiar.

They weren’t comforting.

They. Weren’t. Damien’s.

I wasn’t just imagining it. It wasn’t a figment of my mind. I’d never seen this stare before, at least not on him. They were dark and daunting, empty and evil. Only reminding me of the man who took my life away.

The monster…

“Better yet,” he added, cocking his head to the side. Narrowing his deviant gaze at me. “Why don’t you go run and hide. That seems to be the only thing you’re fucking good at.”

The forceful blow from his words almost knocked me on the floor, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

Winded from his actions.

Choking from his words.

All the air from my lungs ceased to exist, evaporating from the pain.

“I’m sor—”

“Now!”

I did. 

I ran on pure emotion and terror, unable to get away from him fast enough. Trying to seek shelter anywhere I could. I didn’t even realize where I was running to until I tried to open the front door. Only to have it unexpectedly slammed shut from behind me. 

“Amira—”

I didn’t have to wonder who it was. Not allowing him to get another malicious word out, I took off again. Running toward my bedroom this time. I barely made it five strides down the hallway before he grabbed ahold of my arm, hauling me backward to face him.

Instinctively, I fought to get free. “Let go!” I shouted, struggling to get away from him, but he wasn’t having it. He grabbed my other wrist, tugging me forward, making me lose my footing. Slamming me into his hard chest. “Stop it! You’re scaring me! Please, just stop it!” I pleaded, my trembling voice breaking with each word that left my mouth. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out, instantly letting me go. 

I stumbled, tripping over my feet, trying to regain my balance, when a strong arm wrapped around my waist. Catching me before I face-planted into the wall. Damien held me steady. 

“Muñeca,” he immediately coaxed in a familiar voice, like he knew I desperately needed to hear it. Causing me to intuitively peer up at him through my lashes. 

We locked eyes. 

Neither one of us said a word, we didn’t have to.
The intensity surging through our connection in that moment was as captivating to him as it was to me. We were both standing there, breathing profusely. My heart pounding so hard in my chest that I swear he could hear it. Both of us lost in our own thoughts.

He knew what I was doing. 

What I was looking for. 

What I needed to see. 

Only adding to the plaguing emotions that were placed in between us. A hint of darkness still remained in his honey-colored stare as if he was trying to break through the demons haunting him. 

Battle his way back to me.

It seemed like seconds, minutes, hours went by where our silence spoke volumes even though nothing escaped, our lips. I could physically feel his thoughts raging war in his mind with no end in sight.

When he opened his mouth to say something, the front door opened, cutting him off, and Rosarío walked in. “I’m sorry I took so long. You know Carmen, once she starts talki—” She stopped dead in her tracks, taking in the scene in front of her. “What’s going on?” she questioned, glancing from him to me, down to his hands that were still holding onto me.

I didn’t hesitate, shoving off his chest, breaking his grasp on my hips, and stepping back and away from him, blurting, “Ask this imposter, maybe he won’t treat you like you’re nothing but a burden.”

He grimaced. It was quick, but I saw it. With that, I spun around and left, walking back to my room. 

“Amira, what—”

“Let her go, Rosarío. Just let her be,” I overheard Damien interrupt her, as I slammed my door shut behind me. 

Once it was closed, I leaned against the cool wood, taking a solid, deep breath. Refusing to cry, even though I was beyond hurt and confused. The fear I felt subsided, replaced with something I never felt before. I don’t know how long I sat there, dazed and confused by his behavior. 

Did he really mean those things? Was I too needy? Did I not do anything right?

I crept up off the floor with my heart aching and my mind burning. My reflection in my vanity mirror only made me sadder. I peered around the room at all the dolls on the shelves that he had gifted me over the years. Along with the shelves lined with nothing but books of stories that use to bring me so much happiness. There wasn’t one thing in this room that Damien hadn’t given me.

“All I do is provide for you! I’m exhausted tending

to all your needs! I didn’t ask for this life!”

His cruel, but true, words echoed in my mind. He didn’t ask for this life…

He didn’t ask for me. 

I was his obligation, and that was the harshest reality of all. I took one last look around the room before I grabbed a bag from under my bed and threw it on the comforter. Opening my drawers and closet, only grabbing a few necessities I would need. My eyes blurred with tears every time I shoved another piece of me into the suitcase. Thinking how I would never see him or Rosarío again. 

“All I do is provide for you! I’m exhausted tending to all your needs! I didn’t ask for this life!”

I repeated it over and over again in my mind, letting it sink into my soul. Fueling my determination to leave them both behind. I didn’t know where I would go, but I wouldn’t stay somewhere I wasn’t wanted. 

It wasn’t fair to him. 

To either of them. 

I zipped my bag and pulled it off the bed, quietly opening my bedroom door to get to the bathroom, and grab a few last things.

“Damien, you have to stop blaming yourself for what happened. Amira knows it wasn’t your fault,” Rosarío declared, stopping me mid-stride as I was about to walk into the bathroom.

I tip-toed down the hallway, hiding behind the wall. Peering through the crack of the kitchen’s swinging doors so they wouldn’t know I was eavesdropping. I still hadn’t learned I wasn’t supposed to do that.

He scoffed, shaking his head while he stood in front of her. Rosarío was sitting in one of the island chairs.

“Only because she doesn’t know any better. I fucking lost my shit on her today, Rosarío. I screamed at her. I scared her. I was maliciously cruel for no fucking reason, other than the fact that I couldn’t shut it off. The man I am, the same man I vowed to never let her see,” he countered, disgusted with himself. He started to pace the kitchen floor, tugging his hair back away from his face in a frustrated gesture like he wanted to rip it out. “I fucked up. I should’ve never come over tonight. I fucking knew it, but I was selfish. I wanted to see her. I needed to see her.”

“Damien, that’s not you. She knows that’s not—”

“That. Is. Me,” he argued, halting in place and sternly looked over at her. “What do you think I do every day, eh? You know whom I serve. You know what I am. Don’t play dumb, Rosarío, you’re no fucking good at it.”

“Did you ever stop and think that you aren’t like them? That you—”

“You mean before or after I took part in murdering her family?” he callously relayed, leaning against the counter with his arms folded across his chest. The impact of his words caused me to wince back in pain. His revelation and guilt weren't a surprise to me, but it still hurt to hear him admit it out loud.

“You know it as much as I do… She’s not a little girl anymore. The older she gets, the more she’s going to learn the truth. One day soon, I won’t be the man who saved her. I’ll just be another fucking monster that haunts her dreams.”

I grimaced, not expecting him to say that. His response made my heart hurt for him. Probably in the same way his heart always hurt for mine.

Rosarío sighed, taking a deep breath. “She was never a little girl, Damien. She’s already seen and gone through too much for her age. It’s made her grow up faster. But you want to know what I see? I see her laugh and smile with you, more than I ever do with anyone else. Including me. She plays, she runs, she acts like the carefree young girl she’s supposed to be. When she’s with you… she feels safe. That girl doesn’t hate you for anything, it’s the exact opposite. She loves you, and you love her too. You love her so much that it terrifies you that one day, she may not look at you the same way. Not because you’re a monster, but because you made her think you’re one by pushing her away.”

He didn’t hesitate, his kind eyes shifted toward the door I was hiding behind. Like he could sense I was standing there the whole time. “Muñeca, if you’re going to eavesdrop, you should make sure your shadow can’t be seen under the doors.”

I groaned, feeling apprehensive that I got caught, but I quickly shook it off. Confidently walking into the kitchen to face them. Both their eyes simultaneously went to the bag I was holding in my hands. The realization of what I was going to do swiftly replaced the concerned expressions on their faces. 

Damien didn’t falter, not that I expected him to. “How far do you think you would’ve made it, Muñeca, before I found you? You think I would ever let you walk out that door? Let you leave so that something bad happens to you? I couldn’t live with myself, knowing I was the cause. For four years, I’ve made it a point to never let anything harm you. You’re mine, Amira. My responsibility. I can't imagine you’d think I would ever allow you to run away. You have to know that. Tell me you know that.” 

I nodded, overwhelmed with emotion from how much he was sharing with me for the first time.

“I need to hear you say the words, Amira. Tell me you know that?” he demanded in a soft tone. 

“I do. I know that.” And I did… I always had. 

He took a deep breath, the worried expression on his face slowly fading away. 

“What happened to you tonight? Why did you say those things to me? Do you mean them?” I asked before I lost the courage, not knowing what I wanted him to answer the most.

I saw it in his stare that he wanted to lie to me. “I had a shitty day, before running into Emilio on my way here. He started to ask questions about Rosarío,” he openly confided.

Suddenly shaking, I asked, “Do you think he knows that I’m—”

“No.”

“But if he’s—”

“Amira, do you trust me?”

“Of course,” I firmly replied.

“Then trust me when I say today had nothing to do with you,” he sincerely voiced, replying to my other question in his own subtle way.

“Damien nor I would ever let anything happen to you. Emilio is just being a nosy bastard. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. Mamita, this is your home. We are your family,” Rosarío stated, her eyes welling up with fresh tears, just thinking about what I was going to do. Making me feel worse. “Sometimes people say things they don’t really mean. Families fight. And that’s what we are, Amira. We’re a family. We don’t turn our back on one another. No matter what.” 

She was right. 

The good.

The bad.

The love…

They were all part of being a family. 

Damien’s eyes promptly connected with mine. 

And there he was… 

My Damien. 

“You scared me,” I murmured loud enough for him to hear. “I thought… I thought I’d lost you too. To him.”

He grabbed the doll he brought home for me off the counter. Extending her out for me to take. Immediately reminding me of the night he saved me and every night since.

“Muñeca, I’m so sorr—”

Before he could finish his apology, I ran to him. Throwing my arms around his waist, hugging him as tight as I could. There were just some things that were better left unsaid, and this was definitely one of them. Right then and there, I promised myself that I would never let him scare me like that again. No matter how many times he tried. Now knowing, deep in my heart, that Damien needed me just as much I needed him. 

Mi familia.

When he wrapped his protective arms around me and placed a kiss on the top of my head, I expressed, “I love you,” for the first time into the side of his chest. Feeling as though he needed to hear me say it, more now than ever before.

It was only then I truly understood why Damien never asked me about my nightmares… 

He didn’t have to. 

He lived them too.

 

 

“Ricardo and his men should be here soon. You ready?” Emilio questioned, as I took my seat beside him at the conference table.

We were about to have an important meeting in one of the nicer warehouses Salazar owned in downtown Santiago. Emilio had his dirty fucking hands in everything from guns, to drugs, to prostitution. When it came to Emilio Salazar, there wasn’t anything he didn’t own or operate. He knew it all but stayed hidden behind the scenes, orchestrating illegal shit like the puppet master he was. Transporting drugs from country to country with some of most wanted criminals around the world. The possible language barriers never mattered. As soon as Emilio chucked a stack of bills onto the table, suddenly everyone fucking understood each other.

Police, lawyers, the law in general, were all a joke. Pieces of paper he could wipe his ass with. They were all shady as fuck, tucked in his back pocket exactly where he wanted them. It was the small-time shit he involved himself in just for shits and giggles. Another thing to pass his time.

I simply nodded.

“He’s an old colleague of mine, you know. This is the first time we’ll be doing business in forty plus years. He lives in Colombia now, and has ties to all the important people over there. This is huge for us. Do you understand me?”

I nodded again. Mostly because I understood more than he knew. 

What really got Salazar’s cock hard was politics. Which was precisely where the biggest corruption existed to begin with. Ricardo was no exception. He was just another connection to another country that Salazar wanted ties with.

“Look who finally graces us with their presence,” Emilio greeted as my father walked in with Pedro and three more of his men.

My father and I locked eyes for a few seconds before he proceeded on his way. He stood in his place behind Salazar while the other men stood guard by the doors. I could still feel his concentrated stare burning a hole on the side of my face like a ticking fucking grenade. We didn’t have any sort of relationship, at least not anymore. We never spoke, leaving so much animosity and unfinished business looming between us. Building up more and more with each passing year, like a raging fire neither one of us could ever extinguish.

I moved into my own apartment a few days following the massacre, after seeing my father for who he really was. He didn’t so much as bat an eye about me leaving, as if he expected it or something. It wouldn’t even surprise me if he didn’t know where I lived.

As far as I was concerned.

Our family died the same day Amira’s did.

It didn’t take long until Ricardo and his two men walked through the double doors. I watched their every move as they made their way to the table. Ricardo stopped to greet Emilio, while his guards sat in the empty chairs in front of me. Leaving the one between them open for their boss. Emilio stood, embracing him in a hug. Both patting each other’s backs, saying it had been too long since they’d seen one another. From an outsider looking in, it appeared as if two old friends were just reuniting and rekindling their friendship.

It was bullshit.

Salazar embraced everyone for two reasons. One, he wanted you to feel like his friend. Unaware that he would slit your fucking throat the second you weren’t of use to him any longer. And two, he wanted to feel around your body and mentally count how many guns you were strapped with. He never told me any of this, it was just one of the many things I observed along the way.

The two of them took their seats and spoke about old times for a few minutes, reminiscing about this and that. Trying to portray the meeting for anything but the political corruption that it was. Then they finally got down to fucking business.

“How many kilos in the crates?” Emilio asked.

“As many as you want,” Ricardo nonchalantly replied, nodding to him.

“I would say no more than ten kilos and ten crates. That’s enough to keep crime going for a few months and the cops busy in Cuba. I want to maintain jobs, not pollute my country.”

“Of course, Salazar. I know it’s always been about the good of the people with you. I can have those transported over here in no time. I’ll get my men on it as soon as I get back. How do you want it shipped over? I can get a private plane with no hassle.”

Emilio shook his head. “It’s too risky. This isn’t the sixties anymore. I have the United States on my ass. They’re watching every flight coming in and out of Cuba. They have been for decades. The Yankee pieces of shit won’t let us live. My people are starving. There is barely any gas for transportation. With Russia struggling, we have no exchange with them anymore. It’s why I’ve turned to drugs. Need to keep some sort of economy going. Something appealing to get those young Yankee motherfuckers to travel to Cuba. I need tourism most of all. You know how word of mouth spreads. The drugs and pussy are always where the money is at. My girls are the best, now the drugs will be too.”

Ricardo nodded, understanding. “I have a few names I can contact in Miami. There are some Feds I know, who I can call in a favor to. I can also reach out to Alejandro Martinez. That son of a bitch knows everyone. It’s the least I could do.”

“I appreciate that, but now’s not the time. Perhaps it would be something to consider in the future. I think it would be safer if we used boat transportation, during the night. The cargo would need to be unloaded no later than five o’ clock in the morning on the dock. The crates will need safe transportation until they offload at the port. I’ll pay you half now and half when they get delivered.”

“No problem. Whatever you want, my friend. I can make it all happen, Emilio. It’s not about the money. We’re old comrades, I’m here to help you,” Ricardo answered, never taking his eyes off Salazar. 

And I never took my stare off Ricardo, sizing him up the whole damn time. Unable to hold my tongue any longer, I casually remarked, “You’re being awfully cooperative for a man known for the exact opposite. From what I hear, you’re nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“I—”

I put my hand up in the air, silencing him. “That wasn’t a question.”

“Damien…” Emilio warned in a tone I didn’t appreciate.

I grinned, glancing over at him. “How does that saying go? Keep your friends close and your enemies’ closer?” Looking back at Ricardo, I continued, “Let’s put it to the test, shall we? You’ve known your old friend Salazar here for quite some time, eh? What did you say it was, Emilio? Forty, forty-five years?”

“Damien, why are you interrogating Ricardo?” Salazar broke in, bringing my attention back to him.

“Just having a friendly conversation with one of your allies. Getting to know him man to man. But just hear me out. It’s about to get good.”

“Emilio, I think we’re done with this meeting. I’ll be in touch,” Ricardo declared as he stood to leave. His men followed suit.

“Before you haul ass, why don’t you tell your old comrade what you were up to on July 24th?

He froze mid-stance, completely caught off guard by my question.

I smiled. “Oh, that got your attention.” I leaned into the table, cocking my head to the side. “Or better yet, next time you try to come in here with your bullshit cooperation, I suggest you cover your tracks. Now, take a seat,” I firmly ordered.

His eyes widened, his mind was spinning as he calculated his next move. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I stood up from my chair, and placed my hands in my pockets. Walking to the opposite side of the table. Never once breaking eye contact with him. “I don’t? See, I thought we were in the business of making things happen, and the only thing you’ve made happen is setting up your so called friend.”

Ricardo immediately narrowed his eyes at me, taking in my words. “Emilio, I don’t know what this piece of shit is insinuating, but I’ve heard enough. Is this how you run your country now? Allowing your boys to run their mouths, disrespecting your guests? I suggest you tell your bitch to back down before I put a bullet in his head.”

“No disrespect, Ricardo. I don’t know what has come over my soldier, but I will handle it as I see fit,” Emilio chimed in, giving me another warning glare. “It was great catching up. Please give my regards to your family.”

He nodded to Emilio still trying to hold his ground, even though it was caving beneath him. “Till next time, my friend.” With that, he stood, turning his back to us. Ready to leave.

“Ricardo, you didn’t answer my question, so allow me to rephrase,” I calmly stated, stopping him dead in his tracks. “What exactly were you doing on July 24th at the American Embassy?”

He turned around and in three long strides, he was in my face with his gun pulled. Aiming it right between my eyes. Triggering my father to step in front of Salazar and draw his gun with only Ricardo in his sight.

“Again, motherfucker, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was in Puerto Rico, balls deep in my fucking mistress, if you must know,” he gritted out, getting up in my face.

I didn’t even flinch, unfazed by the cool metal on my forehead. Grinning big and wide, daring him to pull the fucking trigger.

“That’s enough!” Emilio roared, his voice echoing off the walls. “Ramón, back the fuck down! Damien, get the hell out of here! I will deal with you later!”

“But the fun just got started,” I rasped, stepping back and away from him.

Ricardo didn’t waver, redirecting the aim of his gun to my chest. Snidely smiling, thinking he gained the upper hand. I leisurely glanced down, looking at the red laser mark that was now placed over my heart. Grinning as I slowly gazed up through the slits of my eyes. Waiting a few seconds before taking the backs of my fingers and wiping away his target as if it was just a speck of dust. 

Mocking him.

“Puerto Rico, eh?” Without any further ado, knowing I got my point across. I reached inside my military jacket, pulling out an envelope from the hidden pocket. “This says otherwise,” I argued, throwing it on the table, spilling out the contents. Pictures and documents lined the surface, laying out the truth of Ricardo’s betrayal.

“What the fuck is all this?” Emilio asked, narrowing his eyes at me. He grabbed onto the most incriminating piece of evidence. A time-stamped photo of Ricardo shaking hands with the Ambassador at the U.S. Embassy in Colombia.

“A picture is worth a thousand words, and that just spoke volumes,” I added, watching as Salazar picked up the document signed by Ricardo, agreeing to help the United States take down Cuban dictator, Emilio Salazar.

“Emilio, I—”

“I’ve known you over forty-years, and you come into my territory with the intentions of betraying me?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” he breathed out, lowering his gun like the pussy he was.

“From the looks of that,” I chimed in, gesturing to the table filled with the evidence, “you were balls deep into plotting his demise.”

With one sweep of his arm, Emilio sent all the papers flying to Ricardo’s feet. Roaring, “You fucking traitor!”

Ricardo shook his head in disbelief, taking in all the proof he needed, knowing he wasn’t getting out of this with any of his bullshit lies. He looked up, meeting Salazar’s menacing glare. “Don’t take it personal. They came to me! Making me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“What do they know? What did you give them, you miserable fuck?!” Emilio interrogated, stepping around my father.

There was no hesitation as he grabbed ahold of Ricardo and slammed his head onto the table. Lifting him up again, only to deliver another blow to the side of his face, before ramming him to the floor. Ricardo’s men pulled out their guns, ready to take out Emilio. Our guards intercepted, breaking both men’s arms. Sending them to the ground, reeling in nothing but immediate pain.

“It’s your lucky day, motherfucker. I should put a bullet in your head, but I don’t want your traitor blood on my hands,” Salazar scoffed, spitting in his face. “When everyone finds out about you, your death will be far worse than my fucking bullet.” Emilio walked over to me, watching as Ricardo pitifully tried to stand. “You have till the count of three to get the hell out of here. One… two…”

“Fuck this,” I coldly interrupted, pulling my gun out from the back of my pants, immediately pulling the trigger. Putting a bullet right between Ricardo’s eyes and without giving it a second thought, I targeted his men next.

“Damien, no!” my father yelled as I pulled the trigger once again. Popping another cap into each of their heads.

I shrugged off his order, placing my Glock back into my pants. “There, now their blood is on my hands,” I callously stated, walking toward the doors. Not once looking back. Fully aware of what I would see in my father’s eyes.

I didn’t have the time, nor did I care about anymore of his bullshit lies.

“Ramón, call your men to have this cleaned up. I need to have a word with your son,” I overheard Emilio demand from behind me, but I continued on, pushing through the double doors of the warehouse, out to the parking lot.

I was prepared to hear his fucking wrath, conscious of the fact that he was trailing behind me. Most likely wanting to lecture me about my short fuse and temper. How I needed to reel it in, like he always did. I waited, leaning against the hood of my car with my arms folded over my chest. Never expecting what happened next.

“How did you know about Ricardo?” Salazar inquired as soon as we were face to face.

I peered him dead in the eyes and simply answered, “Instinct.”

His gaze intensified. An expression I’d never seen before quickly crept across his face. It was only when he followed it up with, “Thank you,” that I grasped it as gratitude.

I gave him a curt nod in response, mostly because how the fuck did I reply to that…

“I mean that, Damien. I never pegged Ricardo as a threat. You saved my ass.”

“I did what I had to do. Don’t make it into something it’s not.”

“I know you’re not happy serving in the military. So here is your one and only chance to back away. What do you want in life? Tell me.”

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would have the option to choose. The answer left my mouth faster than the question left his. “The law. I want to be an attorney.”

He smiled, gripping onto my shoulder, with pride and honor radiating off him. “Ahhh… following in my footsteps. I couldn't be prouder, you want to be an attorney like me. After what I just saw, there’s not a doubt in my mind that I could use you for far greater things. Consider it done. I’ll be in touch with your enrollment and course load.” Without another word, he got in his limo and left. 

Leaving me there with only my scattered thoughts. I contemplated life for what seemed like the hundredth goddamn time. If it wasn’t about Amira, it was about Emilio. Neither one of them were ever far from my mind. Two opposite ends of the spectrum where both of them were completely wreaking havoc on my whole fucked up life. Which once again took another drastic turn in a matter of minutes. I would never say that Amira was a burden, but she also wasn’t my choice. Exactly the same way Salazar wasn’t one either.

His question, “What do you want in life?” echoed in my mind, residing deep into my core. I realized for the first time that I was given a choice, and I didn’t hesitate to become like the man who was handing me that option. 

I didn’t turn into the monster they wanted me to be... 

He had always been inside of me.

The doors behind me opened, pulling me away from my thoughts. I didn’t have to wonder who it was. I turned, locking eyes with my father. 

He took one look at me and asked, “Who are you?” Shaking his head in disappointment, backing away. He didn’t even give me a chance to reply, turning around and leaving as if he already knew the answer all along. When it only had just hit me.

That realization alone sent me spiraling down a bottle of fucking bourbon. Before I knew it, I was sitting on a black leather couch, in a dark corner of one of Emilio’s whorehouses, out of sight. Not bothering to remove my dark tinted sunglasses. Exhausted from the day and the never-ending plaguing emotions that tortured me every single goddamn day.

I’d come here often to drown my sorrows in bourbon and whores. Typically, after something pivotal happened in my life, or when I needed to unwind. Fuck out my frustrations, my cock buried in whoever wanted a piece of me that night. I took another swig off the bottle, watching as the whole world shut off around me. Even if it was just for an instant, it was a moment I reveled in. Only seeing strobes of colored lights and bodies dancing, and fucking in the dark.

“From the looks of it, you’re going to need me tonight,” the luscious blonde enticed with her red, pouty dick-sucking lips. Wearing nothing but a tiny G-string and a bra that barely covered any of her assets.

“I just need your lips… on my cock. It would make a pretty picture, don’t you think?” I coaxed, leaning back into my chair.

She laughed, swinging her long blonde hair over her shoulder. This was foreplay for her. “I see you’re here to break more hearts, Mr. Montero. What’s it been, two, three weeks? You know the girls get jealous when you don’t pay attention to them. You have your own harem of whores here, your pick of the pussy litter. Now I can see why, it’s that pretty boy face that makes women fucking wet when they see you coming… literally. Your reputation precedes you, though.” She took it upon herself to straddle my lap. Grinding her pussy on my cock to the beat of the house music. “I may be new, but from what I hear, you fuck like a real man. I’m Lola, by the way.”

As soon as those words left her tongue, something Emilio once said to me flashed through my mind. “I knew your first taste of pussy would teach you to fuck like a real man. Reap the dominance I knew laid dormant in you for so long. Like I told you before, women always love that.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Being with Teresa taught me one thing and one thing alone.

Control.

My first time, given the fucked-up situation, didn’t end my craving for it. If anything, it made it worse. I thrived on the control as much as I did on anything else. In and out of the bedroom.

It was just who I was now.

I didn’t know how to fuck any other way. I had to dominate the sex. Positioning them where I wanted, how I wanted. Dictating the movements of their hips while they rode my cock, hard and fast. There was no kissing or sleepovers, I fucked them and made them fuck me. The rougher the better. They were ordered to keep their mouths shut, not saying so much as a word without my permission. Call it whatever you want, but it was the only way I could avoid seeing the images of Teresa. Reliving what I was forced to do to her that night, all over again.

It wasn’t always about me, though. I’d always make them come, which was probably another reason they wanted me so bad. Not many men cared about a woman’s needs. Their minds set on the fact that they were whores for a reason.

Especially men like me.

“I want you,” she breathed out, leaning in to kiss me.

I gripped onto her hair at the nook of her neck, tugging her head back, hard. Making her whimper like a dog in fucking heat. She should’ve known better, I didn’t kiss. It was much easier this way. Being with a whore. Don’t get me wrong, I never forced another woman sexually.

They wanted it.

Getting pussy had never been an issue. Women literally threw themselves on my dick, as soon as they saw me walking in beside Emilio. Knowing who I was and what I meant to him. Especially the women who wanted a job where the cops wouldn’t fuck with them, aware they’d be protected by Emilio’s hand. That’s how easy it was for them to get on their knees and suck my cock.

This chick wasn’t any different.

I let go of her hair and slowly moved my hands from her neck to her ample tits, down to her narrow waist. She licked her lips, sucking in another breath when I suddenly gripped onto her hips. Placing her on the table in front of me so I could get a good fucking look at her.

I stood, spreading her legs to stand in between them. Getting close to her face, I rasped, “What makes you think I care about what you want?” Meaning every last word.

She inhaled, holding her breath as my hand continued its descent, running along her smooth, heated skin, down to her cunt. “Please…” she begged, looking into my eyes with nothing but need and urgency, so fucking aroused. The tips of my callused fingers awakening every last fiber of her being. Slowly and deliberately, I took my time, knowing damn well I was fucking ruining her for any other man.

“I'm desperate for you,” she purred, with nothing but hooded eyes. 

I snidely smiled, cocking my head to the side. Taking a second to look into her pleading gray eyes before leaning into her ear, spewing, “Then get on your fucking knees and show me what desperate looks like.” 

Her eyes instantly dilated as she slowly knelt in front of me, never taking her heady gaze off mine. I immediately reached for my belt buckle, undid my pants, and pulled out my cock in one swift movement. Jerking myself off in front of her face, not giving a flying fuck there were people around us. 

She licked her lips, salivating at the size of my cock. I gripped onto the back of her neck this time, crudely tugging her toward me. Causing her to gasp at the sudden shift in my demeanor. 

“You trust me?” I baited, and she nodded, not hesitating for one fucking second. 

I didn't think twice about it, I took the head of my cock and traced the outline of her red, pouty goddamn lips before shoving it to the back of her throat without any warning. She gagged, choking on my cock. Panting for air that I was savagely taking away from her. I fucked her face. Taking away all my frustrations from the day, exactly how she knew I needed. 

I glared down at the luscious blonde with a devious stare, viscously gritting out,

“You shouldn't.” 

 

 

 

 

By the time I walked into my apartment, it was just past ten o’clock at night. I had spent the rest of the day fucking every hole of that blonde at the whorehouse. Hoping it would mask all the bullshit taking up occupancy front and center in my mind. I was emotionally, mentally, and physically drained. 

It was game fucking over. 

At least for tonight.  

My feet moved on their own accord out to the balcony that overlooked the ocean. Craving the fresh air, yearning for the tranquility that it usually provided for me. I would spend hours out on the terrace or down at the beach, watching and listening to the soft lull of the waves crashing into the shore. Welcoming the warm, salty breeze coming off the water. It always had a way of calming my nerves no matter what I was feeling or going through, and something told me tonight wouldn’t be any fucking different. I slipped off my jacket, laid it over the railing, and rolled up my sleeves. Resting my forearms on the steel bar. Trying to wrap my head around all that had happened in the last thirteen hours, but failing miserably at doing so. 

My mind wandered aimlessly as I took in the night’s air and the dark sky. Mesmerized by the high-rise buildings that lined the shore, the lights illuminating the streets, and the cars driving by in the distance. Taking in every last detail, needing to come down from the high that killing men and fucking whores always gave me. There was something about the sound of the waves and the ocean breeze that took me away to another place in time. A familiar sense of longing came over me, making me remember how much Amira loved the water.

“Wow! This is your apartment? It’s so big for only one person,” Amira observed, walking around the living room. It was the first time I brought her over since she started living with Rosarío, seven months ago.

“It’s not that big, Muñeca, you’re just small.”

She placed her hands on her hips with Yuly dangling from her fingers. “I’m not small. You’re just abnormally large.”

I chuckled, making her smile. I swear this kid’s smart-ass mouth was going to be the death of me. As the weeks went by she started to come into her own, crying less and laughing more. She was constantly talking about one thing or another, barely letting me get a word in edgewise. I never imagined a nine-year-old little girl would have so much to say. She had an opinion about everything and wasn’t intimidated to speak her mind. It was a nice change of pace to have her around, especially since I was mostly alone before she unexpectedly came barging into my life.

“It’s got two bedrooms in the back. In case you ever need to crash. You’ll have your own room.”

“Why? We can just share a room like we do at Rosarío’s.”

I touched the end of her nose, and for some reason it always made her eyes light up. “You’re not going to be nine forever, Amira. One day it won’t be appropriate for us to share a bed anymore, and when that day comes, you’ll have your own space in my apartment.”

She shrugged, not paying me any mind, walking toward the balcony. “Whatever, I’ll just sneak into your room when I have nightmares.”

I shook my head, stifling a laugh. “Ay, Muñeca…”

“What?” She turned to look at me. “You know I don’t like to sleep by myself, Damien. You keep the monsters away. Plus, I don’t need all those itchy blankets that Rosarío has, you’re like a heating blanket. Just lying next to you, I’m nice and warm.”

“Amira, you can’t say shit like that.”

She arched an eyebrow, scratching her head. “I can’t say shit like what?”

“Like that,” I asserted, pointing at her. “You definitely can’t swear. Rosarío will wash your mouth out with soap. Trust me, she tried plenty of times with me.”

“Then why do you still use them?”

“Because I’m a man,” I simply stated. “You’re far too sweet and young to be saying vulgar things. You will be a lady. Don’t let me hear you swear again. Do you understand me?”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be teaching me your bad habits.” She abruptly spun back around, flipping her long brown hair over her shoulder, and stepped out onto the balcony. “Your apartment overlooks the ocean! I’m never leaving! Do you remember, Damien? How I told you I wanted to have a house like this too? Just like the Little Mermaid!” she excitedly exclaimed, jumping up and down.

I leaned against the glass door, folding my arms over my chest, shaking my head. I couldn’t help but be amused by her subtle way of changing the subject. “I remember, Amira.” And I did, it was the only reason I got this place. “How about we go for a swim? Rosarío brought over a few bathing suits for you.”

She sighed, bowing her head.

“What? What happened?”

“I don’t know how to swim.”

“Well, lucky for you, I do and can teach you how,” I reassured her, extending my hand for her to take. “Come on. You’ll be a mermaid in no time.”

She smiled again, peering up at me through her long, thick lashes that always reminded me of the dolls I’d buy her.

“And Yuly?” she added, attentively waiting for my reply.

I nodded. “Yes, Muñeca. Yuly too.”

As much as I wanted to go see Amira, there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d let her witness me like this again tonight. It had been several months since I lost my shit on her at Rosarío’s, showing her the man behind the façade. I was worried that night would change her attitude toward me, she would become guarded and possibly frightened to be around me, but she didn’t. If anything, she became more attached. Worrying about me in her Amira sort-of-way.

She started leaving me with a bunch of random things, always including Yuly. I’d find them stashed in my car, my jackets, and my overnight bag. Anywhere she knew I’d look later on when she wasn’t around. As if she knew I needed to laugh or smile at some point during the day.

It ranged from books with highlighted passages in the chapters, to collected flowers for my apartment, to cookies she baked that tasted like shit, but I still ate them anyway. These were just to name a few. She never bothered asking me about the items. All she knew was I had found them, as soon as Yuly had unexpectedly returned to her room. I would place the doll on her bed when she wasn’t looking, or when she was off with Rosarío or by herself in the garden.

For Amira’s fourteenth birthday I had her favorite flower, white Mariposas, planted in the backyard with several trellises that lined the side of the house. More Mariposas and vines intertwined, blanketing the soil and spread up the lattice. The garden quickly became her new obsession. She’d spend hours out there with Rosarío or her chickens, pulling weeds and making sure the plants were properly taken care of. She’d prance around with a flower behind her ear as she twirled in circles, flapping her arms like a butterfly, wearing her flowy garden dresses that had rips and stains at the bottom. Probably from being barefoot and running through the grass every chance she got. She was still a ranch girl at heart.

I’d walk into the kitchen and hear her laughter cascading off the greenery from the open sliding doors. The same little girl who used to cry herself to sleep, didn’t have a care in the world when she was out there. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever gotten to see, over and over again. I always took a few seconds to soak up her contagious sounds, smiling to myself, knowing that I had done something right by her. Since the night I lost my temper, I found myself gravitating toward Amira more often than not. It only took a moment of weakness on my behalf for her to witness the side of me that everyone had met. Experiencing my wrath that I spent years shielding her from.

Except, I wasn’t a monster in her eyes.

Not even close.

From the second we locked eyes, a sense of protection and possession came over me. It was the craziest thing I had ever felt, but I couldn’t help it. It was there, threading itself into my skin, making me feel warmth and contentment. She awakened something within my being, causing me to feel less fucking dead inside. Her energy, her innocence, her love for me, it all became a magnet. Little by little she became a staple piece in my world that I needed in order to keep going.

I may have saved her life.

But she kept me alive.

None of it made any sense. Our connection was solely linked through darkness, but now there was blinding light added into the mix. We were balancing on the tightrope of existence, walking the thin line toward each other, waiting for the inevitable to happen. Not knowing which way we’d fall.

Into the dark or light.

It only seemed like yesterday she was sneaking into my bedroom when she had a nightmare. “I’m sorry I woke you up again. I know you’re really tired,” Amira muttered loud enough for me to hear as she turned to face me.

I’d lost count of how many times she’d woken me up from one of her night terrors. It had become a routine, usually a few hours after she fell asleep. Tonight, we were watching a movie on the couch and she had passed out near the end. I didn’t want to move her, knowing that most of the time it was difficult for her to fall asleep in the first place. I laid a blanket over her tiny frame, making sure to leave the table lamp on beside her. I knew she’d be scared if she woke up alone in a dark room in the middle of the night. Amira was comfortable staying in my apartment, but sometimes she would wake up disoriented as hell until she pushed herself out of the haze her nightmares brought on.

It didn’t take long until I felt the bed dip beside me, stirring me awake.

“Sleep is overrated.” I grinned, winking at her through the soft lighting coming in through the window from the full moon.

“Did your mami rub your back too? When you were little and had nightmares?” she curiously asked, wanting to learn something about me.

Nothing about her question was surprising. It was a running theme with Amira. She was always looking for answers to questions I wouldn’t reply to. Not that I could blame her, all she wanted was to get to know me. Which was much easier said than done. So many conflicting emotions emerged through me in a matter of seconds.

I clenched my eyebrows together, deep in thought. I think I stunned us both when I responded with, “I never met my mother.”

“Do you miss her?”

My stare never wavered from the textured ceiling, contemplating how to answer her intrusive question. I thought about nothing and everything all at once, wanting to hold back the truth or, quite possibly, what I really wanted to say, before I finally uttered, “You can’t miss what you’ve never had.”

She winced, not expecting that reply to fall from my lips. Quite frankly, I was just as shocked by my response, admitting that out loud for the first time ever. I never wanted anyone’s fucking pity, especially hers.

I didn’t deserve it.

“What about your papi? Did he ever comfort you?”

I turned my head and narrowed my eyes at her through the darkness, trying to analyze what she saw in me. I’d catch myself doing this often, needing to see myself through her eyes, from a different perspective. They were always hopeful, eager, and full of so much fucking life. When her eyes widened, and she faintly smiled, I swear she knew what I was doing. How in the fuck this ten-year-old little girl could interpret my silence was beyond me.

“It’s late, Amira. You need your sleep.”

She sighed, disappointed by my lack of response. There wasn’t a need for her to know about my life. Hers was already tainted enough because of me. The damage was already done, and the last thing I wanted to do was fuck her up even more. I wanted to keep Amira as innocent and pure as humanly possible, for however long I was capable of. It was the least I could do, I owed it to her and her family.

She smiled again, scooting into the side crevice of my body. Wrapping her arm around my torso to rest her head on my chest. She whispered, “Don’t worry, Damien. I’ll rub your back if you have a bad dream.”

I chuckled, kissing the top of her head. Another natural endearment I had always had for her, and I didn’t have that for anyone else.

Affection.

“Aye, Muñeca, you have such a big heart. Don’t ever change. Not for anyone. Including me.”

After that night, she never stopped prying for answers. Except now they weren’t in such an elusive way. She no longer tiptoed around the subject like she used to.

About my past.

My present.

My fucking future.

It didn’t matter how many times I reverted the questions back to her. Amira wouldn’t give up. The first time she saw me, I knew she felt a certain familiarity in my presence. It was the reason she was always so comfortable around me to begin with. As the years continued to go by, it only became more undeniable that the emotion she had perceived was much more than just her safety. There were times when she didn’t have to say one fucking word, just being around her brought a sense of calm over me. She knew it too.

And no fucking good could ever come of that.

Specifically, for her.

The pounding knock on the door tore me away from the realm of my purgatory. I had lost all concept of time as soon as I stepped foot out on that balcony, crossing the threshold somewhere between reality and my plaguing thoughts. I took one last swig of bourbon straight from the bottle and shook off my demons. Needing to regain my thick-skinned, fierce composure before I walked back inside. Curious to see who the impatient fuck, incessantly banging on my door, was.

I was shocked as shit when I finally opened it.

“The fuc—”

He shoved past me, barging right in as if he was invited. Fully aware he wasn’t even fucking welcome. I couldn’t resist breathing out a snide chuckle as I kicked the door shut behind me and leaned against it. I slowly placed my hands in the pockets of my fatigues, cocking my head to the side. Watching the son of a bitch’s every move as he made his way around the open floor plan of my apartment, looking for I don’t know what.

“So you do know where I live?” I greeted, desperately wanting to get this family fucking reunion over with.

My father abruptly stopped at the kitchen island, intently eyeing me up and down. Time seemed to stand still as his stare gradually made its way back up to my face. From the moment his eyes barred into mine, it started to unravel a deep resolve within my core. While he anxiously searched for any remnants of his long, lost son, with nothing but a reminiscent glare. I could see my childhood flash before his eyes as he stood directly in front of me. Each time he blinked, another milestone from my life came into his sight. All of it. Every memory, every emotion…

The good.

The bad.

The destructive.

Leading us right back to that night as if the last five years didn’t exist. Like nothing had changed between us, when in fact, everything had. Every last one of his demons were emerging, clouding the small space amongst us. It all hit him so fucking hard to the point that the walls started caving in on him.

The answers he needed.

The truth he was looking for.

The reality of his mistakes and regrets.

They were all burying him alive, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel it. But too many lies had come between us, too many dead bodies killed by my own two hands. All in the name of what he instilled in me to do.

I was growing anxious and impatient from the mixture of emotions he stirred inside of me. I hadn’t felt them for him in so fucking long. The sentiments dwelled in the dark hollow space of my heart where he used to exist.

You see, I didn’t just lose my soul that night…

I lost my father too.

The man who made me was also the man who destroyed me. Condemning us both straight to Hell.

There wasn’t an inch of my skin that didn’t feel his love or judgmental glare, and I couldn’t fathom which one was worse. I could no longer just stand there, having him analyze me as if I was just some goddamn lab rat.

Unable to deal with this sentimental bullshit. I spitefully mocked, “Do you like what you see?” Needing to once again regain the control of my surroundings and emotions.

“No, Damien, I don’t. Quite frankly, I don’t think you do either. Am I wrong?”

“You’re not right,” I countered, pushing off the door. “Why don’t you cut the bullshit and tell me what the fuck I can do for you?”

“Jesus, son—”

I got right up in his face. “I’m not your son anymore, and I haven’t been in a long fucking time.”  

He grimaced, raising his hands in the air in a surrendering gesture. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“No? Then why are you here? Just to be a pain in my ass?”

He slowly moved away from me, but I stepped toward him, not backing down. I wasn’t playing this cat and mouse game, not in my fucking home. The one I made without him, when I left his.

“I didn’t want this life for you, Damien,” he confessed, as if he could read my mind.

“What life are you referring to exactly? The one you raised me in?”

“That’s not fair.”

I shook my head, sneering, “You have some balls coming into my home, playing fucking martyr when you’re the one who damned me from the start.”

“I didn’t think Emilio would—”

“You didn’t think Emilio would what? See the boy you trained for combat? The same person who you taught to respect and admire everything he stood for? My dominant traits, my controlling mannerisms, my fucking memories of meetings, speeches, and everything in between… Christ, old man. All you did was personally create me for him.”

He instantly jerked back like I had hit him, and in a way, I had. Words had the power to cut you far worse than any knife could make you bleed. I had five years of pent-up words to suck him dry.

“Those weren’t my intentions,” he justified, never breaking his intense stare. “I wanted you to have the best education, Damien. Train to go into battle in case you were sent to war. I wanted you to be prepared, knowledgeable, and give you the life I never had! Now, I don’t even know who the fuck you are!”

“Do not raise your fucking voice at me. Ever. I’m not a child,” I gritted through a clenched jaw. My temper looming through the thin patience I had left for him. “This man, the one you say you don’t recognize, is the same man you raised. Don’t you ever look me in the eyes again and fucking deny that.” I saw nothing but the years of betrayal through the rage in my vision. 

The air was so thick between us he had to back away from the impact of my words stabbing into his skin.

“What do I have to gain, lying to you? Not a damn thing. I’m here because, regardless of what you believe, I’m still your father and I love you. You’re still my son, Damien. You always will be. Nothing will ever change that, no matter how much you try.”

I didn’t even blink an eye, knowing those words were his weapon of choice that he was trying to use to slice right back into me. They weren’t working. I remained the solid man I had trained to be, unfazed by his doting performance.

“Says the man who took five fucking years to show up at his son’s home and declare that.” I slowly clapped my hands, deviously grinning. “Congratulations, you’re father of the fucking year! Now do me a favor. Get the fuck out!”

His eyes widened and his lips parted. My words finally puncturing a hole deep in his heart, exactly where I wanted them to.

“You have lost all decency!” he roared, stepping in front of me again. “You’re right. You’re not my son! Is that what you want? To be dead to me?”

I didn’t falter. “You’re as dead to me as the puta who abandoned her son. But unlike you, I still fucking respect the woman. At least she left knowing she was destined to be a shitty mother. Too bad I can’t say the same for you!”

My head whooshed back from the sudden blow to my face before I got the last word out. I stumbled to the side, grabbing ahold of the counter, stunned. It took me a few seconds to gather my bearings and realize my father had just backhanded me. I couldn’t remember the last time someone got in a good hit. It had been that long.

I glared at him, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. “What the fuck! Touch me again, old man, and I will bury you. I don’t give a fuck that you’re my blood!”

“See! You’re exactly like him! Emilio Salazar’s clone! You’re nothing but a monster! Do you hear me? A fucking monster!” he seethed, his hands rolling into fists at his sides.

The rest played out in slow motion like a bad dream. My father took a step in my direction as the door to my apartment burst open, slamming against the wall. Knocking frames over, sending shards of glass skidding across the floor by our feet.

“No, he’s not! You are!”

I never expected who was standing there ready for battle, instantly coming to my defense. Almost knocking me on my ass. I should’ve known better, but once again…

I didn’t.

I never did when it came to her.

I stood there frozen, immediately realizing what I had just done. Revealing my identity that Damien worked so hard to keep off the radar, and possibly endangering both of our lives. I recognized the older man instantly. He was the one who took part in brutally beating my papi that night five years ago. His face still haunted my nightmares to this day. Except, now I knew who he was—Damien’s father. I could now see the familiarity in their eyes. The same eyes that held all my savior’s truths. He recognized me instantly, the shock evident on his face. He kept looking at me like he had just seen a ghost.

He stepped toward me, his hand extended as if he was going to touch my face to make sure I was real. “You are—”

Damien suddenly appeared out of thin air, crudely shoving his father away from me as hard as he could. Shielding my body behind his. “Don’t even think about it, motherfucker. Don’t try me,” he threatened, holding his hand out in front of him. His warning was loud and clear.

My eyes widened and I swallowed the lump in my throat, witnessing yet another side of the man I thought I knew, for the first time ever. There was something predatory about the way he was guarding me with one arm wrapped around my torso, and his hand steady on the side of my stomach. It reminded me of a lion ready to attack its prey.

“Damien, it’s okay—”

“Don’t you say one fucking word, not one,” he interrupted me in a calm tone, although his demeanor was anything but.

I didn’t know what was worse—seeing his vicious fury like the last time, or witnessing this completely opposite side to him that was eerily calm. At least with his rage I knew what I was getting.

His father slowly took a few more steps back toward the front entrance, not taking his troubled stare off mine. “What did you do, Damien? What the fuck did you do?”

“It’s none of your goddamn business, now leave and keep your fucking mouth shut. Or I’ll do it for you.”

He slammed the door shut with no intentions of leaving. “Jesus Christ, do you have any idea what will happen to you both if Emilio finds out you betrayed him?”

“He’s not going to find out, now is he?” Damien firmly stated, even though it came out as a question.

“How could you not tell me? Where has she been staying? After all this time… I thought… I thought you had murdered a child.”

Unable to control my mouth, I blurted, “You obviously don’t know your son! Damien would never do that! He has done nothing but take care of me like I was his own flesh and blood. He’s not a murderer like you!”

Damien didn’t reprimand me like I thought he would. Instead, he locked eyes with his father, who took one look at me and then back at him. He narrowed his eyes, cocking his head to the side as if he was silently asking him a question. I glanced back and forth between them, trying to figure out the answer, but it was no use.

“You can’t promise this girl protection forever. What’s going to happen if Emilio sends you somewhere else? Huh? To another city or worse, another country on the other side of the world? Who’s going to take care of her then? What about your future wife? Your kids? Do you have any idea the life she’s going to have without you?”

I jerked back, never considering any of those questions. We’d been living in our own little world, where I thought we’d stay forever. Not once thinking that reality could rip that away from me. Again. I looked over at Damien to find shelter in his gaze like I had done so many times before. His eyes remained neutral. There was absolutely no change in his composure, making me wonder if he had already considered all those questions.

“Unlike you, old man. I protect what’s fucking mine. Nothing is going to happen to her and if someone—anyone—so much as tries,” Damien forewarned, pulling his gun out from the back of his fatigues and aimed it at his father’s heart. “I won’t hesitate to pull the fucking trigger,” he paused, letting his words sink in. “Are we clear?”

My stomach was in knots, churning with each tick of the clock. I knew Damien carried several guns, he was never secretive about his weapons. But I had hoped I’d never see him pointing one at another human being again. Especially his own flesh and blood.

His father nodded, eyeing me. Feeling my anxiety radiating off my skin.

“Let me hear you say the words, Dad,” Damien ordered, never taking his eyes off the man in front of him. Even though I knew he felt my anxiousness too. “I won’t ask again.”

His hand never left the side of my stomach. His calloused thumb strummed up and down on my exposed skin from where my tank top was rising up, leaving goose bumps in its wake. Igniting a foreign feeling deep in my core and a shiver to run down my spine, but just as fast as it came, it was gone. As if he realized what he was doing and stopped.

At first, I thought it was to ease my worry, providing any comfort he could. 

Though now, I wasn’t so sure.

“I would never sell you out,” he simply replied. “You can trust me, I’m your father.”

“I trust no one. Especially you.” Damien nodded toward the door, lowering his gun. “We’re done here.”

There wasn’t anything left to say that hadn’t already been said. I heard it all through the door before making my grand entrance and most likely the worst mistake of my life.

Finally, his father just backed away, shook his head, and left. Calmly shutting the door behind him. Damien’s hand lingered at my side for a few more seconds until he removed it completely. Taking his warmth and affection with him.

“Damien, I’m sor—”

He snapped, “Not right now, Amira,” locking the door before walking down the hallway toward his bedroom.

I instinctively followed him, feeling as though he needed me. “Can you just let me expla—”

He whipped around, stopping inches from my face. His warm, alcohol-infused breath assaulted my senses with a sweet smell that had a spicy kick. Making my stomach flutter. I couldn’t give it a second thought because with one look, he rendered me speechless. “I. Said. Not. Right. Now. Amira.”

I warily nodded, feeling so guilty and confused. Trying my hardest to keep my tears at bay. The last thing I wanted was for him to see me cry. I couldn’t control all the emotions hitting me all at once, the unanswered what ifs, spinning around my head. I was beyond overwhelmed with everything that had just went down, scared of what was going to happen with Damien.

With me.

With us.

My family.

“Just be a good girl and go watch television in the living room. Stay inside and out of trouble. I need a minute to myself. You think you could do that?” he added, making me feel worse.

I nodded in agreement. Afraid if I spoke my voice would betray me. Pissing him off even further. He was desperately trying not to lose his temper on me again, except this time I wanted him to. I realized right then and there that I’d take his anger over his silence, any day. I watched him turn his back on me and stalk toward his room, closing his door behind him. It took everything inside of me not to run to him. He had been my only stability for so many years, that I had forgotten what it was like to stand on my own and not have the refuge he always provided for me.

I laid on the couch, listening to the shower run from his master bathroom as I gazed out the balcony doors. Hoping the sound of running water and the serenity of the night’s sky would ease my unsettled mind. My eyes started fluttering closed and the next thing I knew, I must have passed out.

“Amira, run faster! You’re so slow!” Teresa shouted, running in front of me.

“I am! I am, Teresa! But you’re too fast! I can’t catch up! Slow down!” I yelled back, trying to get to her.

“I’m not going to slow down, you slowpoke! Come on!” she laughed, about to run into our house.

I saw them before she did.

The monsters.

“NO! Teresa! Don’t run in there! Please, don’t run in there! They’re in there! I can see them! Please!” I pleaded from a distance.

My voice sounded so far, yet so close at the same time. It echoed all around me, making it difficult to tell if she heard me or not. I blinked and was back in the cabinet when I was nine-years-old, except this time everyone could see where I was hiding. They were all staring in my direction.

My family’s arms were reaching out for me while the monsters just stood there and laughed.

“Come on, Amira. Don’t hide like you did before. Come be with your family. We miss you,” Teresa whispered in an eerie tone.

Her voice echoed again, but I couldn’t make out where it was coming from. Humming through the house, vibrating deep into my bones. Feeling as if it was now a part of me.

“I want to be with you! I do! I’m sorry! I won’t hide!”

“You’re the reason they’re all dead,” the monster roared, his face morphing into my papi’s. Then transforming into a pair of familiar eye’s that I knew all too well. Except they weren’t Damien’s, they were his dad’s. Barring into mine like they had this evening.

I franticly shook my head, silently praying it would make them go away. Immediately feeling guilty for everything past and present.

“What? I did what you said!” I shouted with tears in my eyes. Raking my hands through my hair as I breathed out profusely. Unable to control any of my emotions from what was happening in front of me.

I blinked again and they all started walking toward me, only now they were covered in blood. It was pouring out of the holes in their heads, soaking every inch of their skin. My hands instantly covered my mouth so I wouldn’t scream.

I was terrified.

But at the same time, I was grateful they were there with me.

I never wanted them to go.

I didn’t want them to die.

When I glanced down at my hands, their blood was all over my skin.

“Damien? Where are you, Damien? He can save you this time! I know he can! Damien! Damien! Please help them!” I yelled, panic taking over. Trying to wipe their blood off my hands, but it was no use. The more I tried, the more it spread down my arms, my legs.

My whole body.

“Amira, it’s time you come with us,” Mami said, getting closer and closer to me. The face morphing back and forth, from her to the monster to Damien’s father once again. I couldn’t tell them apart anymore. “Come to Hell with us. It’s where you belong!”

“No! No! No!” My body fervently shook with each word that escaped my mouth. “I don’t want to go there! I’m a good person! I hid! I did what Papi told me to do!” I shouted, immediately grabbing onto my neck. My voice made no sound. I was moving my lips and nothing came out.

I screamed and screamed and screamed.

I screamed until my throat felt raw and my chest burned. While my heart pounded against my ribs, in my ears, and through my mind.

“Amira, Amira, Amira, you’re going to Hell with us,” they chanted, getting closer to me.

“Please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please! Please! I don’t want to go there!” I begged even though they couldn’t hear me.

No one could hear me.

I tightly closed my eyes, placing my bloody hands over my ears. Hiding my face into my knees.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Shhh… Muñeca. I’m here. Shhh… It’s okay, I’m here,” I heard Damien’s voice soothe in a gentle lull.

The next thing I knew I felt a strong hand start rubbing my back.

“It’s okay, I’m here. Shh…” I heard him say, repeating all the same words for I don’t know how long.

I followed the sound of his voice, the movement of his hand, placing gentle strokes up and down my back. Pushing everything else away.

The darkness.

My fears.

“Shhh… Muñeca. Shhh… I’m here. It’s okay, I’m here.”

Then, all of a sudden, the monsters were gone.

And there was nothing left but peace.

When I stirred awake, Damien was on the floor in front of the couch, using one arm to prop his head up on the cushion, and the other was still rubbing my back.

“It’s been a while since you had a nightmare, Muñeca. In fact, it’s been months,” he stated, purposely staring out the balcony doors as I was before I fell asleep. The full moon dimly lit the living room, casting shadows of darkness on his face. Producing enough light so I could see his tormented expression. The one I always tried so hard to push away.

“It’s nothing,” I replied, aware he was lost in his thoughts. Only fueling the remorse and shame I knew he was once again reliving.

“It didn’t sound like nothing.”

I took a deep breath, inhaling the mixture of his masculine scent and musky cologne that surrounded me. Giving me the confidence I needed to initiate this conversation with him. It resided deep in my pores, consuming my attention as he hovered next to me. Bringing back the same sense of comfort and familiarity that it always provided, alongside his secure presence. His long, wet hair had fallen around his face, framing it perfectly. Accentuating the intensity of his honey-colored eyes, although this time it was solely his regrets that were pouring out of them.

I took a steady, reassuring breath, whispering, “What happened to my family, to my sister… it wasn’t your fault.”

He didn’t attempt to move away.

He didn’t look at me.

He didn’t even stop rubbing my back.

It wasn’t until I said, “You were a victim that night as much as I was,” that he suddenly stood up and made his way out the sliding door, onto the balcony.

The second I stepped over the threshold, standing behind him, he revealed, “You’re a child. I could tell you a fucking fairy tale and you’d believe me. Guilt and fault are foreign feelings to a little girl. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Don’t make me out to be something I’m not. I’m far from a fucking victim. You don’t know me, Amira. If you did, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” I honestly expressed, cussing at him for the first time. Needing to get my point across.

He turned around, leaning his back against the railing. Crossing his arms over his fit chest with a stern look on his face.

“Oh! So that’s what gets a reaction. I need to start swearing more often.”

“Don’t test me, Amira. Trust me, you won’t like the outcome.”

I had the sudden desire to mock his uptight words in that moment, just to have him follow through with that threat. Wanting to feel his touch that was home to me. But I decided now wasn’t the time. I shook it off, earning a small grin to escape from his lips. He knew what I was thinking. It persuaded me to continue on.

“I don’t care what you claim. I know you, Damien. I may not know what you do every day, but who cares. I don’t even know what Mama Rosa does every day. That doesn’t mean I know her any less than I know you. I may be young, but I’m not a child. I’ll be fifteen in less than six months. That probably sounds like a kid to you, but that’s just because you’re old,” I teased, knowing it would get a rise out of him. He was only twenty-three.

He scoffed out a chuckle.

“I know the man that you are in here.” I placed my palm over his heart. “The guy you are when you’re with me, and that’s all that’s ever mattered and that’s the reality of our friendship. So please stop pushing me away. I’m not scared of you, Damien. I never have been. I’m definitely not going to start shying away from you now.”

“Why are you here, Muñeca?” he asked out of nowhere, changing the subject. Removing my hand from his chest. I would be lying if I said it didn’t hurt my feelings he was rejecting my touch.

“I was worried about you.” I shrugged. “You always tell me when you can’t come over to Mama Rosa’s and… I just wanted to make sure nothing had happened to you. That’s all.”

“So you thought sneaking out and coming to my apartment in the middle of the night. Alone. Would do what, exactly? Bring me happiness?”

“Well, when you put it that way, no. I don’t really like the way you’re being with me right now, though.”

“Do you think it makes a difference to me, if you like it or not? I can’t imagine you’d think I’d let this slide.”

“Is it because I snuck out? Or because I eavesdropped? Or simply because I defended you, revealing to your dad I was still alive?”

“All of the above, Amira. Do I look like I need your protection? You’re just a little girl.”

“No! I think you need my love. My concern for you. I mean, somebody has to take care of you too. Mama Rosa has tried, but I’m way younger and capable, so… it’s my turn.” I smiled, stepping toward him until we were standing inches apart, looking up into his face. “In my defense, we’ve never talked about that horrific night, and I’ve spent the last five years trying to forget it. I remember you going off on Rosarío the same night, but so much was being discussed between the two of you that it was hard to keep up. I didn’t realize your father was one of the men…” I hesitated, wanting to choose my words wisely. “I’m just trying to explain to you that I would’ve never barged in like that if I would've known that he was one of them. I’m sorry, Damien. I didn’t mean to ruin everything you’ve sacrificed for me.”

“The damage is already done. There is no use in apologizing for things that can’t be changed.”

“Is that why you don’t like to talk about your family or your past? Because of what your father did to my—”

“It’s late, Amira, you need to go to bed.”

I frowned, not hiding my disappointment. I thought for once I was getting through to him. He was finally letting me in, only to slam me down once again.

“Can I sleep in your room with yo—”

“No.”

I bowed my head, sighing, “Okay.” But then he touched the end of my nose with his index finger, causing me to look up at him through my lashes.

“We can sleep on the couches. If you need me, I’ll still be there.”

I smiled as he nodded toward the living room for us to go inside, and right as I turned to go back in, I changed my mind at the last second. I spun back around, hugging him as tight as I could instead. “Please, don’t be mad at me. You’ve never been mad at me before, and I really don’t like it. I’m really sorry. All I want is for you to be safe. You and Mama Rosa are all I have. I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost you too. I love you, Damien. You’re my family.”

He let out a heavy sigh, wrapping his arm around my torso, kissing the top of my head. I held in the tears that threatened at the surface, listening to his heart beating steadily against my cheek. I couldn’t understand why I was being so overly emotional tonight. Maybe it was because I hated the feeling of disappointing him, knowing so many others had done the same.

I wanted to be different…

I needed to be different.

For him.

“I know, Muñeca. I know…”

And I knew in my heart.

He did.