Prologue

Mari Belle

 

Babies were magnificent little creatures. Bundles of joy, that’s what everyone said. Except somewhere I had missed the joy part. I shouldn’t say I missed it. I had moments of joy.

They were just few and far between. I was exhausted. My body was a mess, my mind was in a constant state of panic, and my soul was absolutely depleted. The simplest of tasks felt impossible. Showering, I could skip another day, right? Going to the bathroom, I could hold it a little longer. Eating, well, that would make me have to go to the bathroom so skipping meals sounded good.

Everything was a challenge.

Even breathing.

Where was the joy in that?

Misery was far easier to hold onto.

Only, the moment I let the negative grip me, she would look up with those gorgeous brown eyes and I found comfort. She was a piece of me, a piece of Javi. She was innocent and pure in all things wrong.

As she slept I could mostly find the peace in the crazy. But motherhood wasn’t exactly what I imagined it to be.

I was so very alone. There was no one to guide me, no one to tell me this would pass. No one to reassure me I was doing okay and Yesnia was healthy.

Estella wasn’t here to hold my hand. She wasn’t around to reassure me that I was feeding right or burping right. I had these blankets. They were special blankets. They came with pictures of a baby wrapped like a burrito. The instructions were on the package, but I never seemed to get the thing right. As soon as Yesnia got one hand free it was over. The whole blanket would soon be off and she would return to her screaming.

I was in over my head.

Most days it felt like I got more wrong than I did right. If I was to rate my mothering skills on a scale of one to ten, I might give myself a two. I tried to be patient with her and myself. Only I ended up more frustrated in the end. I definitely was far from having my shit together.

I looked at the pink blanket in my arms as my daughter lay sleeping soundly on my bed. I was folding laundry. It felt neverending. My emotions were everywhere. I couldn’t seem to sort what was up, down, left, or right. One month since her birth and my stomach still felt like a bowl of jiggling jelly. At this point, I was lucky if I managed two hours of sleep at a time. My mind was a fog of nothing. Every task felt like a chore that my body protested doing. I needed sleep. I needed to revive myself. Except I couldn’t. I had her to take care of. Yesnia didn’t have a schedule. She did what she wanted when she wanted and I was along for the ride.

Yesnia cried.

She cried a lot.

Her lungs were strong. They had to be because honestly, she wailed like it was her job.

Maybe it was.

And breastfeeding. It was nothing like I envisioned.

My boobs would never be the same. Every time her tiny lips wrapped around the bud of my nipple and clamped down, I had to fight back the yelp threatening to escape. No matter how natural this was supposed to be, it still didn’t help me not to jump. It wasn’t right. It didn’t feel normal. Then, she would suck. My God, she would suck. Each pull drawing milk from my body into hers felt like she was draining me empty. When I couldn’t tolerate another moment, I would disengage her mouth and the screams would ensue. The midwife told me to nurse fifteen minutes per boob and burp in between. I was happy to have a time. Sometimes I would count the seconds as they passed, waiting to get her off me. I just needed a break. A chance to let my raw nipples rest. While I burped any air from her body, she would scream wanting more milk. I would give her the boob back, but a woman could take only so much. Except it didn’t matter to her, she was a machine of wails. Unbroken, unyielding, and unrelenting wails, at that.

Even when burping her she cried. It was chaos. She would cry, burp, and cry again like it wasn’t even a hiccup.

Then she would spit up.

It smelled.

She smelled.

I smelled.

It was agony.

No one told me this was what motherhood would be like. My mother and Estella, and even when Luciana had Anna and called home, they all made it seem so easy. They talked about us as babies as if it was this precious time to treasure. My mother was always so happy, so loving. Estella, too. Me? I was lost. I had these moments where I felt okay, but it was just enough to rejuvenate me into surviving another day. Mostly, I felt empty, drained, and completely void inside.

I wanted to remember what life smelled like before it was consumed in spit-up and diapers.

Everything normal felt like a distant memory.

Yesnia wiggled slightly on the bed and I held my breath. Please don’t wake up, I begged her in my mind. The adjustment to motherhood had not been an easy one for me to say the least. I needed every break I could get. Just a few minutes more, I begged silently.

I looked at her. Slowly, she opened her eyes. The panic and anxiety started to build. What would I do with her if she wanted to scream? How could I keep our evening calm?

I had this new life, this being I had to care for.

Her eyes found mine.

Locked in a stare, I watched her in amazement. This life that I helped to create.

“While born in chaos, you’re a powerful storm, my Yesnia,” I whispered to her. “You, my love and my pain, are destined for something great.”

That was the thing about it all. Yesnia was both my love and my pain, but she was more my love than anything. Our eyes locked together, bonded like she was as she grew inside my womb. This little girl was everything to me. She was both my future and my past.

Before I could pick her up, the door to our bedroom opened and in walked Maricio. My body automatically tensed in concern. Every instinct screamed at me to pick up my daughter and hold her close. I didn’t get the chance before he rushed to her, scooping her into his arms.

Gleefully, he lifted her high. “Oh little one, if you only knew the power you held. If you only knew the way you could break a man. A powerful man. A man who has no fear. A man who should be afraid, very afraid.” Maricio held Yesnia against him laughing sinisterly. “I want him to know pain. I want him to know what it is to be powerless. You will see, Yesnia, it will happen. And I will be the bringer of his pain, the deliverer of his agony. You are the key to everything.”

The venom in his words poisoned the air around us. He hated Javier and I didn’t understand why. The two had been as close as brothers. Javier never made a move without Maricio. They had looked out for each other for so long. Even now, months after we left, I couldn’t wrap my mind around it all.

“Maricio, please, put her back on the bed,” I begged him. My little girl was only a month old. I didn’t have the strength to fight him. My vagina still hurt, I was passing too much blood as my body tried to get back to normal from delivering her. It was my first period since birth and it was the worst one I had ever had. No one prepared me for the after effects of having a baby. I couldn’t do this with him, not now. My heart thumped wildly in my chest. I felt the panic rising. My brother was unpredictable. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as fight or flight kicked in. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my daughter. I needed peace, not the chaos Maricio brought with him.

“She’s everything, Mari. You hold the ticket to everything,” he said directed more to Yesnia. In a split second change his eyes hooded like he had forgotten I was in the room. I watched as he looked at my daughter with a dangerous desire. Not a sexual desire, but similar to how a lion licks his lips as he stalks his prey. My daughter would be no one’s prey.

“She’s a baby. She’s just a baby.” I fought back my emotions as the fear kept building inside me. She wasn’t some ticket, some key to getting back at Javier, or Paco, or anyone. She was an innocent little girl. She was my piece of happiness, purity, and calm in the storm of my life.

He was right, she was everything. She was my everything. No one else’s.

While adjusting to motherhood may have been challenging, my love for her never wavered. What I felt for her was deeper than any ocean, larger than any land, and bigger than anyone could imagine. She was a part of me. Even as my mind was befuddled in lack of sleep, Yesnia was my world. I did everything day in and out for her.

He continued to ignore me, giving all of his attention to my precious little girl.

“Little Yesnia, I could send him your picture,” Maricio taunted and I froze. “Let him know he’s a daddy. Tell your father how his legacy continues on. You, single-handedly, are his weakness and he doesn’t even know it yet.” Maricio’s laugh filled the air.

Chills ran down my body. “Javi was going to marry me on an order,” I challenged. “Why would he care about having a daughter? She wouldn’t matter to him, nor do I. Let her be, Maricio. Please.”

My brother’s eyes turned to mine. His stare locked with my eyes and he was cold as ice. “Oh but sister, to know of his hija, he would care. To know that he has familia not within his control, he would be bothered. To know that I kept it all from him,” Maricio shook his head before firmly setting his gaze back to me, “well, that would break him.”

“Why do you hate Javi so much? He was our family.” The words tumbled out. I knew I shouldn’t ask. I knew discussing Javier Almanza was the danger zone on a good day. Maricio, in the mindset he was today, I was walking on hot coals. It was simply a matter of when I would get burned.

“I don’t hate him, Mari. I despise him. I loathe the way things come to him easily.”

His mind was lost, distorted. Our childhood was far from great, but Javier Almanza did not have it easy either. This time I shook my head. “Nothing came easily for any of us.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Their mamá lives while ours died. Their father still sends money home to her while ours stopped once word got back to him that our mother was dead. Don’t you see, Mari, all you have in this life is me. All we have is each other.”

“You’re jealous,” I muttered barely over a whisper. As soon as the words left my lips, I regretted them. While it may be the very truth of it all, I shouldn’t have spoken it.

“To speak words was to give life to something. So one must always speak positively,” Estella, Javi’s mom, always said. I gave life to his jealousy and his rage in this very moment and I couldn’t stop myself from letting the words tumble out.

Without missing a beat, the back of his hand hit my cheek and the burn followed.

“I’m not jealous. I have more than Javi will ever have because I have your loyalty. Something he can’t take from me. Life may have taken our mother, our father, and Javier might have taken my place in the cartel, but he didn’t get you, life didn’t get you. I got you and I got Yesnia.”

“We’re people, my daughter and I! We’re not possessions,” I fired back at him.

He held my daughter football style in his arm while he glared at me. The challenge was thrown down between us. Silently, I read him. If I pressed on, he would hurt her. He would hurt me.

“You’re whatever the fuck I tell you to be, Mari. When Mamá died, I didn’t let them take you. I paid for you, for your school. You’re mine. She’s mine. Deal with it.”

Swallowing down my emotions, I kept my eyes on his. “You may own me. You may scare me. But Maricio Dominguez, mark my words, if you ever hurt my daughter, then brother, blood, or Mamá herself can’t save you. You should know, if you ever bring her an ounce of pain, I’ll kill you myself.”