Five years old…
THIS HOUSE IS pretty. Like the castle in my Beauty and the Beast movie. There are so many rooms to play hide-and-seek in. I wish Mommy would play with me. She never does, though.
Once I’ve looked inside every room in the castle, I run down the long hallway toward Mommy’s and Daddy’s room. We’re on a vacation, Daddy told me. A work vacation. All I know is we’re not in California anymore. We got on an airplane and flew far, far away to this castle.
“Mommy!” I call out. “Where are you?”
Maybe she is playing a game with me. The thought makes my heart thump in my chest. When I get close to her room, I can hear the music playing inside. And as I round the corner, I see her dancing.
Mommy is so pretty with her shiny red hair, which looks like it has gold strands in it sometimes. Like the mermaid in my favorite Disney movie. Her eyes even sparkle every now and again. I love when they sparkle because that means she’s in a good mood. When she’s in a bad mood, she makes me go play by myself.
I let out a squeal and drop my backpack full of toys and coloring books. I start dancing in circles and love the way my dress flares out around me. I’m a princess like Mommy.
“Dancing! Dancing!” I cheer out in delight.
As if my words make her angry, she stops dancing and turns to stare at me. Some white powder is on her nose and her green eyes look almost black. Her smile is gone. She bares her teeth at me and her lip curls up as if she’s grossed out by me.
“I thought I told you to go play,” she snaps and then sniffs, like she has a cold.
“But I thought we were dancing, Mom—”
“For crying out loud, Vienna! Mommy has to test Daddy’s merchandise. I can’t do that with you bothering me. Go play,” she spits out and rubs at her nose.
“But Daddy said to stay inside and—”
“Now!”
Her harsh words used to make me cry, but I’m used to them now. Nothing makes me cry. Daddy says I’m fierce…like a dragon. I always smile when he says that, yet deep down I wish I were fierce, but also a princess. Why can’t I be pretty and breathe fire at the same time?
Mommy’s hand swats at me, and I scamper away from her. I scoop up my backpack along the way out the door. Eager to explore, I run along the narrow hallways until I find one that leads outside. As soon as I push through the door, the summer heat cloaks me like my warm blanket back home.
Even though Daddy told me to stay inside, I listen to Mommy’s instructions and start exploring the outside of the castle. Daddy has taken us on lots of vacations to Colombia, but this is the first time we’ve visited this castle.
I’m humming a song when I hear voices. Shouting. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I sneak around the side of the stone wall to see what all the commotion is about. A man with big muscles and a scary smile is holding a huge knife. He’s teasing someone, but I can’t see who. I sneak over to a rose bush and crouch behind it. The roses are big and red, kind of like the ones in my Beauty and the Beast movie. I want to pick one but I know roses have thorns. Instead, I lean in and inhale the sweet scent.
“You’ll pay for this,” the scary man growls, stealing my attention away from the roses. His big knife gleams in the bright sunlight.
I peek around the bush to get a better look. Finally, I see who the scary man is yelling at. A skinny boy is sprawled out on the grass with his hands up, like he’s afraid the man will hurt him. Sometimes I hold my hands up like that when Mommy is mad. She doesn’t hit me often, but her eyes can be mean. I always worry she will.
“No me robé ningúna cocaína,” the boy says, his voice shaking. I don’t know what he’s saying, but it sounds like he’s trying to make the scary man understand.
“Te cojì con el producto en tu bolsa. Ahora vas a pagar con tu vida. Nadie le falta el respeto a mi familia,” the scary man hisses. I half expect him to change into a monster right under the hot, sunny rays. Kind of like when Beast turns into a human. But backward and scarier.
“Por favor, señor.” The boy seems sad and afraid. I wish I could yell at the scary man to stop waving his knife at him.
While they continue to argue, I slide my backpack off and dig around. I don’t have a real knife but I have a yellow plastic one I use to cut my Play-Doh. Once I have it in my tiny grip, I rise from behind the bush. I watch in awe for a moment as the scary man moves his arm fast and fancy, like he’s a dancer but with just one arm. It’s almost magical. Until I see the blood covering his white button-down shirt, like the ones Daddy wears.
“No!” I cry out from my hiding spot.
The scary man freezes and turns, his eyes locking onto mine. “Run along, child.” His accent is thick, but I understand his words this time. “Run to your father.” He breaks our stare to glare down at the bloody boy, who doesn’t move. When he holds the knife up like he might stab him, I charge for the scary man.
“Noooooo!” I screech and hold my yellow knife up as I run.
The scary man laughs—loud and too cold for this hot day—as I try to stab him with my weapon. He snorts before easily pushing me to the grass beside the boy.
“Hijos de puta,” he grumbles and shakes his head before stalking off.
I turn to regard the boy. His face is covered in blood. The dirty white T-shirt he’s wearing is now torn and bright red, like the roses on the bush. He’s bleeding everywhere. When he lifts a shaking hand that drips with blood, I let out a small shriek. But he smiles through his pain.
“Un ángel. Me estoy muriendo y tu eres mi ángel.” His voice is deep like Daddy’s. I can tell he’s older like my cousin Seth who can drive.
“Shh,” I coo to the boy. His lip wobbles and he looks lost. I can’t see his eyes because they’re squinted shut against the bright sunshine. “I have Band-Aids,” I assure him. “They’re Toy Story, so boys can like them too.”
Tears streak down his cheeks and gurgling sounds escape him. The sounds scare me, but I can fix him. With newfound determination, I run back to the bush to grab my backpack. Once I snag it up, I rush back to my patient. He’s quiet as I pull out my box of Band-Aids and carefully peel apart each one. The box was nearly full—Daddy bought it for me at the airport when we arrived in Colombia after I fell and skinned my knee—so I’m able to put them all over his bloody face. With Buzz Lightyear and Woody staring back at me with big smiles on their faces, I believe this boy will get better.
“¡Llama ayuda, hermano!” a boy shouts from somewhere behind us.
I turn to see an older boy with messy black hair running toward me. He doesn’t seem scary like the man from before. In fact, he looks like he might cry.
“I fixed him,” I assure the boy when he kneels beside me. “He’s going to get all better now.” I go to pat him, but he stares at my bloody hand as though he’s afraid it will bite him. Hands don’t bite, silly.
His eyes that are almost purple in the sunlight shimmer with tears. “Please go inside, little girl.” He points at the house. “My little brother is in the kitchen. Have him help you clean up.” I like this boy’s accent.
I reach into my bag and tug out Mr. Snuffles, my new stuffed cat, which Daddy bought me in a gift shop before we came to the castle. Mr. Snuffles won’t miss me. Besides, this bloody boy needs him more than I do. I’ll just ask Daddy to buy me a new one.
“Here you go,” I tell the bloody boy, who seems to have fallen asleep. “Mr. Snuffles wants to stay with you.” I lift his messy arm and stuff the cat in the crook of it.
The purple-eyed boy beside me starts to cry. “I think he’s dead.”
I ignore the sad boy and give the bloody boy a hug goodbye. Then, I scoop up my backpack and walk slowly back to the castle. When I reach the doorway, I turn and look at the bloody boy and the sad boy. One sobs loudly. The other doesn’t make a peep.
He’s going to be okay.
I fixed him.
With a smile, I turn and run right into another boy. This boy looks to be my same age. This boy has the prettiest dark brown eyes I’ve ever seen.
“Hi,” I wave a bloody hand at him and grin. “I’m Vee. Can we be friends?”
His eyes widen but he nods slowly. A small smile creeps on his face. “We can be friends if you can catch me.” He gives me a tiny shove before turning and running away. Fast. My new friend is super fast.
But I’ll catch him.
Tossing my backpack to the floor, I chase after him.