El Santo by M. Robinson (1)

 

I’m going to tell you a story.

It’s dark.

It’s brutal.

It’s fucking real.

In order to understand my present, who I am, and what I’ve become…

You need to understand my past.

Evil doesn’t always hide in the shadows, in the darkness. Most of the time, it’s out in the open, in plain fucking sight. Possessing the man you’d least expect. You see, I never imagined another life until I made one for myself. By that time, I was too far-gone, engulfed in nothing but pitch black darkness. Exactly the way it was meant to be.

No one could touch me.

No one fucked with me.

I. Was. Invincible.

Nothing more…

Nothing less.

When I dreamed of true love—of soul mates, my other half, of her—the cruelty of my life would snap me back into my reality, making it just that, a dream. One that could easily turn into a nightmare.

My worst fucking nightmare.

Every memory, the good, the bad, the in between. All the I love yous, every last I fucking hate you, her heart and soul that I’d broken, shattered and destroyed along the years belonged to me.

Her pleasure.

Her pain.

It was all a part of me, carved so fucking deep into my skin where she would forever be engraved. My story is going to make you fucking hate me as much as she does, but I want you to. I’m not looking for your forgiveness. I don’t deserve it like I don’t deserve hers.

I’m far from the hero in this story.

I’m closer to the villain.

Except, I’m far worse.

I’m the fucking monster.

And, I’m perfectly alright with that.

 

I dare you to try to love me…

Like she did and probably still does.

 

Don’t say, I didn’t warn you.

 

 

 

 

I gripped my .223 Remington rifle, holding it firmly in my fucking grasp. Feeling the grain of the wood resting securely beneath my fingertips. I was locked and fucking loaded, completely focused on what I had to do next. Tuning out everything around me, waiting for the moment to take my shot. A powerful emotion, one I couldn’t begin to describe, immediately washed over me. I felt it deep down to the roots of my core. 

I was a man.

A man leading the fucking convoy. 

Exactly how our fearless dictator, Emilio Salazar, had done thirty-nine years ago.

“Compañeros, compañeros, queridos, compañeros,” he announced, taking his place behind the podium on the stage. Silencing the large, open outdoor stadium where thousands upon thousands of his socialist countrymen were in attendance. Including my father—who was Salazar’s right-hand man—and myself.

The crowd stared up at the makeshift stage located in front of the massive yellow concrete building marred with bullet holes and Cuban flags. Taking in every last word that fell from our beloved dictator’s lips with wide, eyes, like they always did. Listening intently as he declared this day, July 26th, 1992, the thirty-ninth anniversary of his first monumental attack on the second largest military facility in Santiago de Cuba: the Moncada Barracks. The same exact yellow structure that towered behind us now.

I stood there with pride and honor, wearing military fatigues identical to the ones Salazar wore back on that day. Strategically placing my black combat boots in the same spot he stood when he began his revolutionary movement. I knew it then as much as I had known it in my last eighteen years of life. I wanted everything he had.

The respect.

The power.

The control.

Admiring the leader who almost four decades ago had organized his own military coup alongside a hundred and thirty-five other radicals. Making his presence fucking known.

By declaring war.

Little did the president at the time know that Emilio would devote all his blood, sweat, and tears over the next five and a half years to fulfill his sole promise of a better life. Claiming more cities, taking the lives of the thousands who stood in his way, and growing more powerful until he finally had no choice but to step down to stop the bloodshed.

Fucking pussy. 

Emilio may have lost the battle on that day in 1953, but the failure was of no consequence to him or to us. All that mattered was he eventually won the fucking war.

The rest is fucking history. 

“I wanted to write this speech to prevent the emotion stemming from this occasion,” Salazar professed in Spanish, glancing all around the vast space. Purposely making eye contact with people in the crowd, allowing them to feel like individuals instead of a sea of bodies. He created a profound connection no one could ever comprehend unless they understood that…

To his people.

To his men.

Especially me.

Emilio Salazar was God.

I couldn’t help but think of the last time I was standing here, only a few short weeks ago. A memory I would take to my grave.

The silence was deafening as the car sped down the vacant road to wherever the hell we were going that day. I just sat in the backseat beside Salazar as the chauffeur drove one of his personal, prestigious vehicles. His security team skillfully outlined the perimeter, driving in front and behind us with a few cars scattered alongside. Even though we were boxed in with armed guards, Pedro—a six-feet-four, two-hundred-and-twenty-pound brick fucking house—still accompanied us in the front seat of our vehicle.

Not to mention, I was fucking strapped too. I’d been carrying a gun since I was un chamaco, a twelve-year-old boy, which was far from fucking normal in Cuba. Salazar had made sure of it. His first order of business after his revolution was to strip every one of their firearms. It was easier to control the dissidents who were still against him, if they couldn’t fight back. I was the exception to the rule, given the high position my father held in Salazar’s regime. I had no choice but to carry. He was the captain of Emilio’s army, which made him just as much of a fucking target as Salazar himself.

My father always said I came into this world kicking and screaming, making my presence fucking known, a force to be reckoned with. A natural-born prodigy ready to fight for a purpose. Although there was a mandatory draft from the ages of seventeen to twenty-eight, which most men dreaded, I busted my ass making sure I graduated a year early. Willingly signing up to serve my country the day I turned of age. Most men only served their required two years, but I had made it clear to my father that the military was my career. Making him one proud son of a bitch.

“Damien,” Salazar addressed me, breaking the silence.

“Yes, sir,” I replied in Spanish, giving him my full attention.

“Relax, no need for formalities right now. There’s a reason I asked you to come with me, and it wasn’t for you to kiss my ass.”

I breathed out a chuckle, nodding.

“Do you realize I’ve known you since the day you were born? Your whore of a mother pushed you out of her pussy and abandoned you like you meant nothing. The heartless cunt left you, just like that, and walked out of the hospital hours after giving birth to you. Never looking back. Leaving you to be raised by your father, one of the few men I can truly trust.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to figure out where he was going with this. My father didn’t speak of my mother very often, and I never asked about her. Salazar was as much of a role model in my life as my father, both honorable men to look up to. I would’ve rather been raised the way I was, than by the woman everyone claimed was a puta. But I still found myself listening intently as if his words were a piece of the puzzle I never knew needed to be put together.

“The only role a woman needs in a man’s life is in the bedroom. Men are what make the world go round. Men like us, we’re not followers, we’re fucking leaders—we take, we fight, and we kill for our own. We protect with our last breath, if necessary. That’s why other people fear Cuba. Fuck Yankee imperialists and their liberal bullshit. I know the right way of life, and so do you. I do this for my people, for my country. I owe it to you, to them, to everybody. America, with their greed and lack of social standards, isn’t a way of life. I take from the rich and give to the poor because it’s my fucking duty. Damien, one day, one fucking day, you’re going to stand where I am, and you’re going to show the world that Communism is the only way of life.”

As if on cue, the car came to a complete stop in front of the formidable yellow and white building. The Moncada Barracks. His security detail checked the perimeter, opening the doors to our vehicle once it was safe for us to exit. I followed closely behind Salazar, anxiously awaiting what was to come next.

“You’re eighteen now, eres un hombre.” A fucking man, he said. “The older you get, Damien, the more I see myself reflected in you. It is why I brought you here,” he addressed, nodding to the spot where we were standing. “I stood right here thirty-nine years ago with only a vision, a dream of what I could do with my country, and I want YOU to reenact that dream.”

I was frozen in place, staring him right in the eyes. Never expecting the next words that came out of his mouth.

He held his head up high and spoke with conviction. “Damien, I want you to be me.”

The sound of Salazar’s voice brought me back to the present and I shook away my thoughts, not wanting to disrespect my leader.

“Our people have looked forward to this anniversary with love, enthusiasm, joy, and fervor. For me and for those comrades who are still alive, it’s a very special experience to meet here with the people of Santiago de Cuba all these years later. To celebrate the action in which our generation opened the path toward the final liberation of our fatherland. None of the predecessors in our people's long struggle for independence, freedom, and justice have had such a privilege.” Emilio paused, taking a breath. Allowing his words to once again sink into the depths of our souls.

“It is proper that we pay respectful tribute to those who have shown us the way. To those who from 1868 to today have shown our people the paths of the revolution, who made it possible with the cost of their sacrifice and heroism. Often experiencing only the bitterness of failure and feeling unable to overcome the seemingly infinite, unattainable gap between their efforts and their goals. We needed to go through these primitive years of enriching, unimaginable experiences to acquire the knowledge and maturity in which only the school of the revolution can teach. Everything was like a dream then. Many of our contemporaries, still completely unconvinced that the fate of our nation could and must inevitably change, went as far as to call us dreamers, but I knew better. I led us to this day. I led us to this freedom!” he shouted, raising his right arm up in the air. Making the crowd go wild as Salazar’s words drowned out through the speakers, echoing off the concrete walls. Seeping into the pores of every man, woman, and child in attendance.

I watched and listened, feeling as though he was only talking to me. He entranced me in a way that only Emilio Salazar always had.

I wanted it more.

I wanted it all.

Armed military men raised their rifles up in the air, while I continued to wait. Soon it would be my time to prove that I could fill our leader’s shoes. He personally chose me for one reason and one reason alone; he knew I could make him fucking proud. As Salazar continued his speech and spoke about the historical events of that day, his words that stuck out to me the most were of how a true man did not look first on which side he can live better, but on which side his duties lie and that was what shaped the laws of tomorrow.

I was that man.

I was trained to be that solider. That warrior. The one who bled for my fatherland.

Died for my fucking leader.

My duty was to my country.

Serving Emilio Salazar in any way I could. Exactly like my father and the Montero men before him.

 “Fatherland or death, we shall win!” Salazar shouted into the microphone for all to relish, but it felt like he was only truly speaking to me.  His last words were my cue to spring into action.

My feet moved on their own accord, hauling ass toward the Moncada building, firing off my rifle. Shot after shot rang out with my convoy steady behind me, following my lead. We aimed our rifles toward the barracks, lacing the structure with our bullets, mimicking the shots of 1953 that were still embedded deep into the concrete walls. All I could hear were the sounds of open fire echoing off the building as the crowd continued to go wild. My brothers from the armed forces joined in on the reenactment, setting off their rifles. Only adding to the momentum encased all around me. My adrenaline hammered so fucking hard while my boots pounded into the pavement, one step right after the other. I couldn’t get up the stairs and inside the barracks fast enough.

My heart was beating rapidly, I found it almost hard to breathe. My mind raced and my chest heaved with each passing movement, escalating with every gunshot that fell from my rifle. I was a possessed man on a mission, and no one would fucking stop me. To most this was only a reenactment, but to me it was so much more.

It was the first time in my life I ever felt…

 

Fucking important.

Come hell or high water, no one could ever take that away from me. It was mine. Along with the future of what I’d become.

El Santo…

 

“You did good, son,” my father acknowledged, gripping my shoulder after the parade and festivities had begun. We were standing beside the stage, watching the fireworks go off.

I nodded, trying to hide the smile of satisfaction on my face. My father was a military man, through and through. I could only recall a handful of times I’d ever seen him smile or laugh. He held back his emotions like a shield, saying it was easier for enemies to identify your weaknesses if you wore them on your sleeve. You’d become a target the moment they caught a whiff of feelings, catching yourself a fucking bullet and earning you a place six feet under.

To this day, I didn’t know if I would be considered one of his weaknesses or just his son. Physical affection was also a lost concept in my home. When I was a boy, I once asked him why there were never any hugs or love in our home. His response was “Because I’m not raising a goddamn pussy. I’m raising a man.”

It was the first and last time I ever asked that question.

The only women in my life were the ones who worked for us. I had great respect for all of them, especially our housekeeper, Rosarío. She was the closest thing to a mother that I ever had. When I was younger, she used to be around all the time, but as the years passed, she wasn’t needed in our home as often.

It didn’t affect our relationship though, I checked in with her every chance I got. Her home always felt more like my own than the one I lived in with my father. It was my favorite part of the week, catching up with her over a cup of coffee and her homemade torticas de moron. Rosarío’s husband died at a really young age, and she never remarried. She didn’t have any children of her own, but she always told me even though God didn’t bless her with her own kids, he gave her me. The affection I lacked from my father, Rosarío made up for tenfold. She’d known me all my life.

As far as girls were concerned, I didn’t have time to waste on them. Nor did I give a fuck about the bullshit that came along with dating and pussy. Women were unnecessary complications. A soldier didn’t waste time on love or what it entailed.

Nonetheless, I was grateful for and appreciated the life I was given. The world I was born into. There was no other way of life for me. This was all I’d ever known. I had attended the best schools, received the finest education, and knew more about the world than most men my age. I was fluent in five languages, including English, the language of the Yankees.

I never wanted for anything.

My heart was hardened to hide any emotion, like it never existed in my body. I was already conditioned for battle. Taught how to shoot a gun by the time I was five, trained how to fight and kill with my bare hands before I even entered high school. But despite all that, I never witnessed any real acts of violence.

Although it was just my father and I, we had come across hundreds of men in my eighteen years of life. Partially being raised in Salazar’s homes, due to the fact my father barely ever left his side. It was the norm to see Emilio Salazar behind closed doors, the power and control he held were things that needed to be admired. When he walked into a room, everyone stopped what they were doing and waited. When he spoke, they listened. When he moved, they watched his every step.

When he…

When he…

When he…

It didn’t fucking matter.

All eyes were always on him, no matter what.

The life I lived was one to be envied. Not many men could say the leader of our country was also a second father to them.

“How do you feel?” Salazar questioned in Spanish, walking over to my father and me. “Let me guess, important, right?”

I nodded, unable to form words. I wasn’t surprised he knew how I felt, he could read everyone like a damn book.

“You are important, Damien. That’s why I chose you, and it’s time you recognize that. It’s your moment to prove yourself to your leader. Do you understand me?”

“Emilio—”

With one look, Salazar rendered my father speechless. For a split-second, I swear I saw fear overtake my dad’s eyes, but just as fast as it appeared, it was gone. Quickly replaced with his natural, solemn demeanor. Immediately making me wonder if I had only imagined it.

“With all due respect, Emilio, Damien is merely a—”

“Damien can answer for himself,” I crudely interrupted my father, speaking about myself in the third person. Standing tall and stepping out in front of him. Getting right up in his face until my chest touched his. I spoke with conviction. “I don’t need you to answer for me, ever! I’m not a child,” I affirmed, cocking my head to the side, not holding back. I didn’t think twice about putting him in his place, repeating Emilio’s words back to him. “Do you understand me?”

Salazar grinned, narrowing his eyes at my father. “He may be your son, Ramón, but let me remind you he answers to me, as do you. Fuck his rank. He proved to me tonight that he’s more than ready. He comes with us, and that’s an order. Let’s go!”

As we made our way to his limo, I was still agitated with my father. I didn’t know what bothered me more, the fact that he didn’t think I was capable of whatever the fuck Salazar wanted me to take part in. Or the fact that I still sensed he was worried about me. We drove down some dimly lit streets, the tension in the limo was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The silence was almost unbearable. I did my best to ignore it by staring out the tinted windows to pass the time, waiting to reach our final destination. There were three others from the security detail riding along with us, including Pedro. I couldn’t help but notice that my father had yet to make eye contact with me. His glare hadn’t shifted from his hands clasped out in front of him. Plagued by his thoughts that I knew had nothing to do with my outburst. 

I turned my attention back to the road, still not knowing where the hell we were going. Tree after tree whipped by, making it hard to see our path. Blurring into the background. Fading into the distance. I ignored my looming thoughts, focusing on the adrenaline pumping through my veins. Trying my hardest to keep them in check. The last thing I wanted was for them to mistake my anxiousness for fear, or worse, prove that I wasn’t ready for this.

When in reality, this was all I ever wanted.

The only sounds I could hear were the tires tracking through the unsteady route, my heartbeat, and the thoughts running through my mind. Not one person moved an inch the entire way as the limo continued down its unstable path. It got darker the longer we drove, stirring the mixed concerns in my gut, wondering when the fuck we’d get there. The neighborhoods began to get more rural and run down with each passing minute. Even though I had been packing heat since my twelfth birthday, this could be the first time I would actually have to use my gun. My thoughts incessantly shifted for what felt like the tenth time.

I forced myself to keep my shit together. The eerie quietness wasn’t helping my disposition. I felt my nerves creeping up once again, adding to the endless questions I knew I’d never get answers for. The limo’s headlights shined off the obscure road until finally all the trees suddenly cleared, and it was then I realized we were in a rancho. We must have been at least an hour away from the city, driving into what was considered el campo—the slums. Now that the full moon wasn’t blocked by a bunch of trees, it shined bright against the dark sky, illuminating a vast piece of land. A small, run-down finca-style home that looked like it would collapse on a windy day stood in the middle of the land. The tattered wood siding falling at the seams with paint chips scattered along the hazardous porch. There was a barn in the far back in the same condition, covered by more trees and acres of land.

We were out in the middle of fucking nowhere.

As soon as the driver hit the brakes in front of the house, my father opened his door as if he couldn’t get out of the limo fast enough. Salazar and his men weren’t far behind him. I instinctively placed my hand on my gun before stepping out into the humid air.

Waiting.

Watching.

Prepared.

Emilio’s security team formed a barricade at the front door, my father in the middle, shielding Salazar right behind him. Weapons drawn and aimed at the entrance, anticipating our leader’s signal.

The sequence of events that occurred next happened so fucking fast, yet the whole night seemed to play out in slow fucking motion.

Salazar knowingly nodded to my father who didn’t have to be told twice. He pulled his guns from his holsters, took a step back, and rammed his foot against the door. The sound of a woman’s screams caught my attention first, it was impossible not to hear it. They echoed through the night and the carried cross the acres of open land.

I watched with dark, dilated eyes as Salazar’s men, my father included, rushed into the home, not giving anyone inside a chance to run or hide. To seek safety. Nothing.

In that moment, I became fully aware that this was a skilled ambush—one that had been carried out many, many times before tonight. My body voluntarily moved like it was being pulled by a thread, crossing the battered threshold. More ear-piercing chatter rang out, stopping me dead in my tracks. I stood there frozen in place, my feet suddenly glued to the goddamn ground, forgetting for a moment all the years of training I’d had. I quickly shook off the confusion, taking in every last detail like the expert soldier I was.

There were shards of wood from the front door scattered around the foyer. A table overturned in the middle of all the debris. Broken glass from a vase with white ginger mariposa flowers, trampled all over the worn flooring. Family pictures that had fallen from the walls upon impact, casually laying there with smiling faces staring back at me through shattered pieces.

The irony was not lost on me.

My father and his men didn’t waver, not even for one fucking second, springing into action. Each of them grabbing ahold of what appeared to be members of a loving family. My father forcefully gripped onto an older man’s shoulders, crudely ripping him away from what I assumed was his wife and young daughter. He begged for their lives and they pleaded for his, fighting to get free, reaching their flailing arms out to each other, and praying to God not to hurt him. He must have been in his late sixties, judging by his gray hair and frail appearance. There was no need for the severe assault my father was handing him. The man would have gone willingly, done anything to save his loved one’s lives.

“Por favor! Te lo ruego! No las lastimes!” he bellowed, “Please! I beg you! Don’t hurt them!” in a tone that resonated deep in my core as my father slammed his fist into the side of the man’s torso. Making him barrel over in pain.

Pedro held back the young girl who couldn’t have been any older than me, while she bellowed, “Papi! Papi! Papi! Por favor! Papi!”  The tremor in her voice made me sick to my stomach.

Two of the guards stood watch by the mangled door, closest to me. Not even fazed by the vile scene unfolding in front of them, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary, just another routine night on the job. My eyes shifted to the last guard who had a death grip on the mother, holding her so fucking tight that I thought her arms were going to tear right out of her sockets. Watching her struggle against him, desperately wanting to run to her family. Both of the guards held onto the petite females like they were holding back a couple of two hundred pound men, instead of a couple of fragile women. Manhandling them on purpose, getting off on the fucked-up situation.

“Please! Let them go! It’s me you want! Please! Just let them go!” the older man pleaded relentlessly, breathing through the agony of what was happening before him. He tried to fight my father off with all the strength he could muster, clawing, shoving, whipping his body all around. Taking hit after hit my father delivered to the side of his head for each word that fell from his bloody lips. Never once silencing his pleas for their lives.

“NO! Don’t hurt him! Please! Don’t hurt my husband! We will give you whatever you want! Please don’t hurt him! Please! I beg you! Have mercy!” the older woman shrieked while endless tears streamed down her face. One right after the other with no end in sight, mirroring the exact expressions on her teenage daughter’s face.

“Te amo, Julio! Te amo con todo mi corazón!” she added, “I love you, Julio! I love you with all my heart!” Putting up one hell of a fight.

“Shut the fuck up!” Salazar roared in Spanish. “Shut them the fuck up! NOW! Enough with the theatrics!”

Wasting no time, my father dragged the man to a nearby chair and punched him in the face until he was nearly unconscious. Hanging on by a thread. Causing a trail of blood to ooze from his battered face. His head drooped forward as his body hunched over, going in and out of consciousness. No longer putting up a fight. My father then pulled zip ties from his back pocket, using them to secure the old man’s hands behind his back and his ankles to the chair legs.

The two guards, who were still holding the women captive, didn’t bother tying them up. Knowing they didn’t have to because the women were of no challenge to them. They slapped them around a few times, making their frail bodies even weaker from the force of their blows. Taking hold of their hair, pulling their heads back before placing the barrels of their guns to the sides of their temples. That was all it took to render them speechless, barely being able to hold themselves up any longer.

I swallowed hard when my blank stare found their sadistic expressions. They were showcasing their handy work. Wearing their bloody knuckles proudly.

No remorse.

No guilt.

I couldn’t stop myself from looking back at my father, the captain of Emilio Salazar’s fucking army, the man who had always taught me that women were different.

They weren’t part of the battle.

They weren’t casualties.

They weren’t prisoners of war.

Our eyes locked across the distance between us, it all made sense now. His stare telling me everything that couldn’t be spoken. His concern, his need to speak for me, his shame and remorse currently eating him alive.

They were all fucking lies.

“Damien,” Emilio called out, bringing my gaze to him.

It was the first time I ever felt like I was truly looking at him. The real him. Our fearless dictator leaned against the wall, his arms folded over his chest, one leg draped over the other. Not a hair out of place, his military fatigues intact, and a smug expression spread across his fucking face. But that’s not what had my attention. It was the fire in his eyes, burning into my soul.

He was getting off on this as much as his men were.

The power.

The control.

The fight he brought into this family’s home.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he acknowledged, nodding to me. “Things aren’t always the way they appear. I can see the judgment in your eyes, it’s radiating off your body. You dare judge me, your leader who has done nothing but turn you into a man? I made our country what it is today, and you still stand there and question me? Are you questioning your loyalty to me because of a couple of whores and an old fuck? Eh?” He pushed off the wall, placing his hands into the pockets of his pants. Slowly walking over to where my father stood with the older man who was still struggling to stay alert.

“I didn’t say a word,” I simply stated, watching his every move.

“You didn’t have to. You see, Damien, I was once like you.”

I blinked, taking in his words, still completely aware of my surroundings. How the guards kept fucking with the women, running their guns down their breasts, stomach, and thighs. Making their torn, flimsy nightgowns stick to their sweaty skin. Pressing their cocks into their asses, purposely making their terrified bodies sway against their dicks. The only sounds that could be heard were their low, subtle whimpers, knowing they probably would not make it out of here alive. The men who were standing guard by the doors just waiting for their fucking turns.

I played my part, acting as if I didn’t notice the invasive acts. Giving the monster standing in front of me exactly what he craved.

Respect.

“I wanted to protect my country, I wanted freedom for all my people, I wanted a life where everyone was equal. I—”

“Everyone but you,” I interrupted, standing taller, not backing down.

He grinned, peering up and down at me. “And you. What? You think you’re not treated different? Held to higher standards? Given privileges most would die for? Oh, come on, Damien… look in the goddamn mirror. You’re just fucking like me. Always have been and always will be. You should be thanking me, not doubting me. The man who has given you everything!” he seethed, making the women yelp in response. “There isn’t anything running through your little mind that couldn’t be more wrong. You see this man?” He roughly grabbed ahold of the father’s hair, jerking it back so I could see his mangled face. “This man is a fucking traitor!”

“What did he do? Not pay his fucking taxes because he had to feed his family?!” I spewed the truth, the one I’d been hiding from myself my entire life.

Emilio cocked his head to the side, once again eyeing me up and down with a look I’d never seen before. “He was working with the enemy to bring me down. He and a bunch of other traitors were having meetings in this house! Organizing my demise to bring down everything I’ve worked for my whole life! And do you know what we do to traitors?” He paused, shoving the man away, causing his chair to stagger.

An eerie silence filled the room as he walked toward the women, beaming from ear to ear. Enjoying the effect he evoked on the helpless women. Both tried to weakly back away from him, only sinking further into the guards’ dominant hold. Salazar didn’t hesitate, pulling the teenage girl away from his henchmen.

“NO!” the mother shrieked an ear-piercing scream that would forever haunt me.

That night and his words would change who I was, and everything I believed in for the rest of my life.

It all started with…

Four simple words.

“We make them pay.”

The girl immediately started screaming and thrashing around in Emilio’s arms. Her long brown hair stuck to the sides of her swollen cheeks. Endless tears streamed down her pretty, bruised face as she fought the monster who invaded her home in the middle of the night. Salazar didn’t pay her any mind, amused by the turn of events. I didn’t think twice about it, pulling out my gun and aiming it point blank to the middle of her father’s forehead. Never breaking my intense stare with Salazar.

I narrowed my eyes at him, speaking with execution, “I’ll pull the fucking trigger myself as soon as you let the women leave safely.”

Emilio smiled, big and wide. Looking down at the girl who was now glaring at me with a new sense of hope in her dark brown eyes.

“Don’t try to be the fucking hero in this story, Damien. There’s only one thing you need to learn from tonight. The only way to make a man pay for his sins… is always through the ones he loves the most.”

Her mother started breaking down, screaming and trying to claw her way free. Doing everything in her power to save her daughter. While the father came to, begging for their lives from his chair. Pleading with everything inside of him to let his girls go.

I didn’t waver, pointing my gun to the man’s shoulder and pulling the trigger.

“NOOOOOO!” the women screamed in unison, fighting with every last ounce of strength they had to go to him.

“Next bullet is through his heart!” I yelled, needing to get my point across. “Now let them go!”

“Stand the fuck down, soldier!” Salazar ordered, knowing I had no choice but to listen.

For the first time in my life, I fought an internal battle between what was right and wrong. Lowering my gun, trying like hell not to let the chaos cloud my judgement. Salazar was over to me in three strides with the daughter in tow, tearing the gun out of my hands. Dragging her to her feet in front of him, setting the cool metal on the side of her head instead. He placed her securely in between us, a few feet away from me. The girl’s eyes spoke volumes, intensifying with each second that passed like a ticking time bomb.

Fear.

Pain.

Death.

“It’s time you man the fuck up and prove to me who you stand by. Where your duties lie because fatherland or death, we shall win!” With that, he shoved her as hard as he could in my direction, causing her to lose her footing.

She whimpered as I caught her in my arms mid-fall. Supporting her small frame against my chest. Our faces inches apart as she instinctively tried to fight me off. Not that I could blame her, I was just another villain in her eyes.

“Control her! Show her what we do to fucking traitors! Do you understand me?” Emilio roared, making her struggle against me even harder.

I couldn’t do it, I took every blow she delivered. Allowed her to feel any solace I could provide, even if it was only for a few seconds. It was the least I could do. She began to hit me harder and harder when she realized I wasn’t stopping her, I wasn’t fighting back. I was letting her have her moment.

“Now is your time to truly prove your loyalty to me! Show her who she serves!”

When I didn’t do what he wanted, Salazar crudely tore her away from me by her hair with revulsion in his eyes. Her hands instantly went to her head where he had ahold of her, wincing in pain. Clawing at his fingers as he hauled her over toward the guards by the door. Her legs flailed behind her, trying to gain control to stand up steadily, but failing miserably.

Her father started whipping around, desperately trying to escape from the chair—harder, faster, almost knocking it over. The blood gushing from the bullet hole in his shoulder not stopping him. While her mother did the same with the fucking guard.

It was then I locked eyes with my father, his stare begging me to forgive him. To have mercy on him too.

“This is what we do to men who betray us, Julio,” Emilio rasped the father’s name in a menacing tone that made my body shudder. Nodding to one of the guards on watch at the door, handing her off to him instead. As if he didn’t want to get his hands dirty from the filth, like she was just a piece of trash.

“Do your best, puta. No one can fucking hear you out here,” the guard baited, tugging her over to the small beat-up couch in the living area. “I love it when they scream,” he added.

“No!” she shouted, pathetically thrashing around her entire body, kicking, and hollering at the top of her lungs as she repeated, “Please!” over and over again. Hoping at any second she would wake up from this horrid nightmare. God would save her from this Hell. “No! No! No!” she continued to yell out to no avail, making them all laugh and me fucking sick.

Emilio nodded to my father, silently ordering him to shut the old man up. He did, forcefully slamming the handle of his gun down onto the back of his neck. Knocking him to the floor with the chair. The guard who held the mother covered her mouth to muffle her screams, but she didn’t stop fighting him until he punched her in the stomach. Sending her to her knees in pain.

His henchmen ripped off the girl’s panties, tossing them to the floor. Her nightgown was already torn, leaving her exposed and practically naked. He pushed her over the arm of the sofa, shoving her head into the cushion, and holding her down. Making her ass stick out in the air.

“That’s enough!” I growled, my chest rising and descending. I couldn’t watch this any longer.

“What, Damien? She’s a beautiful girl, isn’t she? Don’t you want your first taste of pussy? She's a whore just like your mother,” Emilio snarled.

“Fuck you!” I seethed, my hands balling into fists at my sides.

Before I got the last word out, he cold-cocked me with the butt of my gun. My head whooshed to the side from the forceful impact of his blow. It was the first time Salazar had ever hit me.

“I’ve given you everything, boy! Are you going to let this traitor take away all you believe in?! Maybe I should let him bend you over and fuck you instead!” he threatened, shaking his head. “No, that’s not how this is going to go down. You show this motherfucker that we do not and will not allow traitors in our country! He took from us, so now the time has come to take from him! You take his daughter! You take her right in front of him and make him watch. Pay for his sins! No one betrays us!”

I didn’t move, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the floor near my feet, as the young girl turned her head away from the couch cushion. Staring into my eyes, pleading with me to save her.

Save them.

“Be a fucking man! She’s nothing! Take control! I know it’s in you, just like it’s in me and your father!” Not allowing me the chance to reply, he simply raised the gun and aimed it in the center of my forehead. Snarling, he added, “It’s why I chose you! Now make me fucking proud!”

I didn’t falter, shouting, “Then pull the fucking trigger!”

He jerked back, completely caught off guard with my reply. If tonight proved anything to him, it was the fact that I didn’t want anything to happen to the women, and the son of a bitch used it against me. He instantly moved my gun, aiming it at the mother and pulled the trigger.

“NO!” I yelled out, about to run to her aid as she suffered in agony, but Pedro grabbed ahold of me. Locking my frame in place.

“Next bullet is through her heart,” Emilio stated, throwing my words back at me. “Do it or she dies! You want to be responsible for taking this girl’s mother away? What kind of monster are you?” he mocked in a condescending tone, smiling deviously.

My eyes found the girl’s staring back at me for a split-second before she clenched them shut, like it hurt her to look at me. Turning her face away in defeat. Pedro started walking forward, taking me with him willingly. There was no use to resist, Emilio had me right where he wanted me.

Prisoner.

Once we were close enough, he forcefully pushed me into the girl. I caught myself on the back of the couch before my weight fell forward, crushing her frame. Her body shook so fucking hard against my chest, sobbing to herself. All the fight she had before was gone, and I resisted the urge to fight for her. We both knew damn well if I did, it would cost her mother her life. And probably ours too.

“Shhh…” I whispered close enough to her ear where no one could hear. Her mom’s wails from the gunshot filled the room, making it easier to be discrete. I tried to steady her breathing, calm her in any way I could. “Shhh…” I repeated a few times until I felt her start to settle down. She turned her head slightly, our eyes barred into each other’s.

With trembling lips, she murmured, “I’m a virgin.”

And with a sorrowful glare, I responded, “So am I.”

For just that moment in time, we stared at one another, both of us trying to crawl into that empty space inside of our minds.

To hide.

To seek refuge within ourselves was the only way we were going to survive this. Drown out the turmoil erupting all around us, muffling the screams with our plaguing thoughts. The pleas disappearing into the distance while we visibly struggled with our conflicting emotions.

“Please, God,” she prayed, for I don’t know what.

After tonight, I was convinced there was no God.

At least not…

For me.

“Como te llamas?” I tenderly asked, “What’s your name?”

“Teresa,” she breathed out, gazing deep into my eyes, intently searching for something behind my stare.

“Perdóname, yo trataré de no herirté,” I sincerely voiced, “I’m so sorry, I’ll try not to hurt you.” Mirroring her intense gaze, I swept a strand of hair out of her face with the back of my hand. Allowing my fingers to linger on her soft, velvety skin.

She quickly pulled away from my embrace, narrowing her eyes at me. “Do your worst, boy. He's right. You're just like him. The only difference is you’re a monster who doesn’t know it yet. He knows it and has accepted it, and after tonight, you will too. Just do it. Stop pretending to be something you’re not.”

I jerked back like she had hit me, shattering from the reality of her words. The remnants of the man I thought I was would be dead after tonight. There would be nothing left of me. I had to turn off my humanity to push through this or we wouldn’t make it out alive. What happened next was like I was having an out-of-body experience.

I was there… but I wasn’t.

I vaguely heard Salazar taunting, “You pussy! You can’t even get hard! Do it now! I’m losing my fucking patience!”

Another bullet flew toward the mother, barely missing her head that time.

More screams.

More laughter.

More sins I would have to pay for. 

I knew Teresa could feel me everywhere, and I was barely even touching her, revolted by what I was doing. With what I had to do. I could sense a throbbing burn radiate throughout her entire body from the sudden loss of breath. The wind being knocked out of her with my weight resting on her back.

I sucked in air that wasn’t available for the taking. Bile rose in my throat. The control, the power, the feel of her tight pussy wrapped around my cock, slowly crept in, finding its way inside of me. 

Fucking with my mind.

I tried to drown it out, willing myself not to feel anything but the vicious act I was delivering.

Suddenly realizing tears were streaming down my face. My lips quivered, my teeth chattered, and my vision turned black, blinking away the white spots. When she moved her hips, I instinctively gripped onto them hard, causing her to whimper from the unexpected pain.

“Don’t fucking move,” I gritted through a clenched jaw, unable to control the sensations her pussy stimulated, needing to control the rhythm of our sinful act. Hating myself more for it. It was too much for me to take, awakening a beast, a dark side of me that I never knew existed.

Imprisoning my body, mind, and soul.

I could feel her virtue, her goddamn innocence on my cock; it only added to the conflicting emotions stirring in my mind. With each thrust, I felt the demons that would eternally haunt me. Torment me until the day I died, until I took my last breath. I didn’t walk through the valley of the shadow of death that night…

I would now fucking live there.

Permanently residing inside of me.

Where I would never make it out alive.

It was all too much—the voices, the commands, the fucking sensations. My hips started moving on their own accord, like I was a possessed goddamn man.

The sinner taking over while the saint sat silently by his side.

My fingers tightened, digging my nails into her flesh, picking up my speed. Thrusting into her harder, faster, stronger. My vision tunneled, and I swear I heard her moan over the madness living inside and all around me. Only tempting the fiend further, causing my head to fall forward onto her neck. I tightly shut my eyes. Seeing flashes of Teresa’s crying face, blood…

So much fucking blood.

I shook off the images as quickly as they approached, the saint defeating the sinner, pulling me back into the light. Finally taking possession of my actions. Control of my life. I had to put an end to this, unable to keep dragging another life down to Hell along with mine.

Right when I was about to finish… 

I heard the girl’s father shout, “Amira! NO! Run!”

I instinctively turned to the guard on my right, grabbing the gun from his holster, and pointing it in the direction of the shadowy figure beside me. Coming face to face with a little girl whose wide hazel eyes would now be seared into the darkness of my life.

Knowing she saw everything.

I glanced around the room, needing to see it through her eyes. Her mother lying there, bleeding out, still trying to form screams that came out as whispers. Her father tied to a chair, franticly begging her to run. Her sister bent over a couch, crying uncontrollably with me still inside of her. 

With the gun still firmly in my grip, pointing to her head, aimed to kill her. 

I immediately lowered my weapon, feeling like the monster I knew I was. I adjusted my pants, looking up just in time to see Salazar raise my gun out in front of him. 

“Nooooo!” I shouted, running toward him. 

He didn’t falter. “Deal is off!” Opening fire around the room, killing Teresa first. Wanting her parents to see her die, no matter what.

I caught her before she fell to the floor with a hard thud, tugging me with her. Cradling her lifeless body in my arms, I applied pressure to the bullet wound in her chest. “What the fuck did you do?” I franticly asked, staring at the lifeless face of Teresa, the girl I had only just met.

Her father’s agony brought my attention back to Salazar. I dreadfully watched as he murdered her mother next, making the man witness his family being slaughtered right before his eyes.

“Fatherland or death, we shall win,” were the last words he heard before Salazar killed him point blank. Putting an end to the “theatrics” as he called them.

I once again sucked in air that wasn’t available for the taking, each shot resonated deep into my core. My chest heaved with every breath, suffocating in the massacre all around me. Drowning in the devastation of every life brutally ripped out of this world. I peered down at the girl in my arms again, her innocent blood on my hands.

Along with her family’s.

Swallowing hard, I glared up at Emilio with nothing but hatred and remorse in my eyes. “We had a deal,” I shook out, pitifully trying to gather my words.

My emotions.

The soldier was long gone.

Disappeared into the night as if he never existed to begin with.

Salazar chuckled, “Motherfucker, you didn’t even come,” he sadistically spewed. Nodding to the little girl who stood there paralyzed with her doll tight in her grasp. As if she was holding onto her most prized possession. All the color drained out of her body, going into shock. Her traumatized eyes connected with mine, instantly searching for answers to questions I would never be able to give her.

A single tear escaped, slowly falling down the side of her face, off her chin, and onto the floor. Rippling in her sister’s blood. I swear I could fucking taste…

Her pain.

Her loss.

Her future forever changed. 

“She’s yours now,” Emilio added, throwing my gun back at me. Nodding to the little girl, he spoke with conviction. “She can be your daily reminder of the family you took away from her and what happens when you betray me.”

It was only then that I realized I lost more than my life that night.

I lost my fucking soul.

 

All in the name of communism. And a man more evil than the Devil himself.

 

“Amira! NO! Run!” Papi screamed, but I could barely hear him over the commotion.

I didn’t want him to be mad at me.

I didn’t want to be a bad little girl.

I didn’t want to let my family down.

Hearing the yelling and the loud gunshots. Watching the pain and agony they were going through.

It hurt all over my body.

I felt it on every last inch of my skin.

I would hear their screams every time I shut my eyes. See their bloody faces every second of the day. Reliving each plea, each bullet, and each mark on their battered bodies.

I felt it all.

In my mind, body, and soul.

I hid for what felt like hours, witnessing it all through the tiny hole in the kitchen cabinet. It had always been my favorite hiding spot while playing hide-and-go-seek with Teresa. No one ever found me when I hid in there. I held my breath to keep from making a sound. Peering out into the living room where a bunch of monsters were torturing my family. The nasty men my father told me to hide from weeks before. I wanted to close my eyes like I was watching something scary, and it would make it go away. As if it was only a bad dream that I would soon wake up from. But every time my eyes hid in the darkness, it only made my thoughts worse. Not knowing what was going to happen next. Making it harder to control my emotions and fear. I had to watch no matter what. It was the only way I would be able to keep my promise to Papi.

My terrified stare flew to the man walking into the living room. The monster, holding my family hostage, Damien. I couldn’t take my eyes off the tall man who was standing a few feet away from my secret spot. Still hidden behind the thin wood cabinet door. He was wearing military fatigues like the men who would come collect our food every month. I noticed his demeanor instantly. I could see something different in his honey-colored glare. The way he was looking at my family, how his hands slightly twitched with his sincere expression. The way he stood by the door, not moving an inch. Watching everything play out in front of him, exactly how I was. 

He wasn’t like them.

They were monsters in his eyes too.

I silently prayed he was going to be my family’s savior. He’d become the hero in this nightmare. The longer I watched, the more I realized he was just as much of a victim as my whole family was. He didn’t want to do those horrible things.

He was fighting for their lives, while I hid fighting for mine.

More screams.

More gunshots.

More…

More…

More…

“Next bullet is through her heart. Do it or she dies! You want to be responsible for taking this girl’s mother away from her? What kind of monster are you?”

I wanted to scream, “He’s not a monster, you are!” But instead, I hid my face into my doll Yuly’s body. It was too hard to keep watching their pain. My broken heart was now in my throat with bile rising, but I swallowed it back down. Covering my ears with my hands, trying to drown out Mami’s wails and the monster’s voice. Remembering the last time I was happy with Papi.

“Amira, I have a present for you,” Papi revealed in Spanish, touching the end of my nose with his index finger. A gesture he’d been doing all my life. He would tease that my nose would grow like Pinocchio’s if I told lies. It was his way of making sure he kept me honest.

My father worked day in and day out in El Campo, the city, and anywhere else he could get goods in exchange for his labor. Whatever that meant.

I hadn’t seen him in a few days which made me really sad. It felt like every time he left to go into the city to work, the longer it took him to return. I hated when Papi left, things weren’t the same without him.

Mami and Teresa missed him, too, but not like I did. Mami would try to cheer me up every time he left by letting me play with the baby chickens out in the barn. Or she’d let me run free in the field and pick my favorite flowers, mariposas, for Papi. A delicate white flower with petals that formed the shape of a butterfly. When he was home, I’d flap my arms up and down like I was flying, and twirl all around him, making him laugh and smile.

Those were the best days.

Papi knew I was unhappy when he left us, so he’d always try to bring me back a gift, to make up for his absence. Knowing it was rare for us to receive any presents unless it was our birthday or a holiday. No matter how big or small it was, I cherished everything he ever gave me because it came from his good heart.

The same heart I had in my body. Papi was my hero, and I loved him very much.

With wide eyes, I watched as he stood up and showed me what he was hiding behind his back this whole time.

“Papi,” I gasped. “You got me one!” Jumping up and down, unable to control the excitement running through my body.

He mischievously grinned, handing the doll over to me. I never had a baby doll before. I’d been asking for one since Claudia brought hers to school two years ago. Saying her papi found it on the bus. I secretly wished mine would find one on the bus too. He knew it was all I ever wanted.

Toys were hard to come by. I hardly ever got any since all of Cuba’s goods came from the Soviet Union, who didn’t have much to part with. Plus, the United States didn’t want to help us anymore. At least that’s what I overheard Papi’s friends say when they came over with all their maps and papers. Spending hours upon hours talking about political imprisonment and corruption. Three words I learned the meanings of from the only dictionary we had at school the next day.

When I asked Papi about it a few days later, he told me not to be upset with America. They were only doing what they could to make Emilio Salazar surrender and step down. He made me promise to never hold hatred for anyone in my heart; it only led to bad things. To love everyone the same, especially those who needed it the most. Telling me that sometimes there were people in our world who were just lost souls and needed our help to find their way.

I smiled big and wide, instantly hugging the doll as hard as I could. Showing her how much I loved her. Bringing the baby up to my face when I was done to take a good look at her. Claudia’s doll had a scratch on her face and was missing shoes and the ribbons out of her hair. Mine was perfect, her long, dark brown hair and hazel eyes looked exactly like mine. She was wearing a white dress that flowed down to her feet, with black shiny shoes. There wasn’t a mark on her, she looked brand new. I immediately wondered where Papi got her from, but I’d never ask.

I couldn’t hold in my happiness, emphasizing, “Oh, Papi! I love her! I love her so much!” I cheered, hugging her close to my heart again, needing to feel she was really there.

She was really mine. 

Before I gave it another thought, I tackled Papi’s legs. Squeezing them in a big, tight hug. Hoping he could feel all the love and appreciation pouring through my embrace.

“Thank you! She will never leave my side! Now I don’t have to be sad when you leave, Papi. You’ll always be with me through her,” I let out, holding back my tears. I was so overwhelmed. I couldn’t believe he got me a baby doll.

He didn’t waver, grabbing ahold of my arms and crouching down to my level. Placing me in front of him so I could see his face. He had tears in his eyes, wearing an expression I’d never seen before.

My heart dropped. “Papi—”

“Amira…” He paused as if he was trying to gather the strength to tell me something. This didn’t feel right, my papi was the strongest person I knew, he never cried.

I pulled my arm away from his grasp, placing my hand on the side of his face. Caressing his cheek, trying to give him the courage he needed to keep going.

It worked. He coaxed, “I need you to promise me something.”

I fervently nodded, wanting to do anything to wipe the look off his face. It was hurting my heart.

“I need you to listen to what I say. I need you to be my good little girl and listen to me, okay?”

“Papi, you’re scar—”

“If any nasty, mean men ever come into this house, Amira, and you hear screaming and bad things…” He hesitated again, making my heart beat faster. His words not coming out as fast as the thoughts running through his mind. “If you hear anything out of the ordinary, Mamita, and you feel scared… I need you to promise me you will hide.”

I stepped toward him. “Papi —”

He stopped me dead in my tracks, holding me steady in place like he needed to look into my eyes. “Do you understand me, Amira?”

Why would I hide if I was scared? I never had to do that before. He always chased away the monsters in my bad dreams. Maybe he needed me to chase away his monsters too?

“Do you understand me? You hide,” he reaffirmed, as if he knew what I was thinking.

I nodded again, unable to say the words.

“Amira, promise me… You swear to me that you will hide from the bad men. No matter what, you hide. And you hide until you don’t hear another word or scream,” he demanded, even though his mouth was trembling. His eyes holding so much sadness.

“But, Papi, what if—”

“Nothing! You hide!” he ordered in a harsh tone, making me jump. He never yelled at me before. “No matter what you hear or how much it hurts you to hear it… you hide, Mamita. Please… promise me you’ll hide,” he begged, his voice breaking. 

I bit my lip, holding back my tears. I didn’t want him to see me cry. He was already sad enough. I always listened to what my papi said because I was his good little girl. I didn’t want to disappoint or let him down.

I stood tall, wanting to be his brave Amira. Needing to be strong for the both of us.

“I promise, Papi. I promise I will hide. I’ll hide and not come out until it’s safe, okay? I won’t come out until you tell me it’s safe, okay? You’ll tell me to come out, right, Papi? You promise you’ll come get me? After the monsters are gone?” I asked with quivering lips, my voice faltering.

My heart shattering.

With tears falling from his eyes, he simply stated, “I love you, my tiny shadow. No matter what, I will always be with you.” He placed one hand over my heart and the other on my doll. “In here.”

It wasn’t until that night that I realized… he never promised he’d come get me. I didn’t know how long I stayed in the shadows of the cubby, but it felt like forever. When I took my hands away from my ears, all I could hear were the men laughing. I moved Yuly away from my face, peeking through the tiny hole in the cabinet again. All I saw now was Damien’s back. He was behind Teresa, who was bent over on the couch cushion in front of her. He was moving his hips as if they were playing some sort of dancing game.

When Damien ordered, “Don’t fucking move,” to Teresa, I came out of hiding.

I made my way out of the safety of the small space as quietly as I could, needing to go get help. Clutching Yuly close to my chest, hoping she would cover the sounds of my rapidly beating heart. Thinking maybe they could hear it. I breathed a sigh of relief when I made it out of the kitchen without being seen. I softly walked down the hallway, where they couldn’t see me and I couldn’t see them. Stopping when I heard Teresa make a noise that sounded like a cry of pain but comfort too.

I heard Papi scream my name, from the chair he was tied to, before I even realized what I had done. It was too late to turn back. The gun in Damien’s hand was now pointed directly at me. I’d never seen a gun up close. I instinctively hugged Yuly harder.

Seconds turned into minutes and minutes seemed like hours as I stood there, anticipating the worst.

The next few moments of my life happened in slow motion. Mania erupted in our once loving home, but I didn’t hear a word that came out of anyone’s mouth. The sounds of my heart beating its way out of my chest took over my senses. My ears were ringing from the palpitations, and my vision tunneled. Papi’s words from a few weeks ago, mixed with the screams of my name, played like a broken record in my subconscious.

“Amira, promise me… You swear to me that you will hide. No matter what, you hide. And you hide until you don’t hear another word or scream.”

 I could feel my body shutting down and my mind going into a dark place inside of me, where no one could hurt me. Shot after shot rang out, causing my body to jerk with each and every one of them. Bullet casings started falling to the floor followed by their bodies. I felt like I was suffocating from the emotions that I felt in a split second.

Regret.

Grief.

Anger.

Hope.

All of them hitting me at once, as if my papi, mami, and sister’s souls were holding onto mine for dear life. I didn’t think it was possible to feel so much and not physically die right along with them.

I was.

I had.

There was this imaginary line that was pulling deep within my bones. I felt it from my head down to my toes. It was flashes of the life that wasn’t mine anymore. My past taunting me and comforting me simultaneously.

My vision suddenly cleared when I faintly heard, “She’s yours now. She can be your daily reminder of the family you took away from her, and what happens when you betray me.”

All the night’s memories came tumbling down, burying me in the rubble of their blood. I couldn’t breathe, staring into the eyes of the man I thought was going to save us all. I was terrified that if I looked away, he would disappear. A huge part of me didn’t want him to leave. I knew if he did, I’d be alone with only my thoughts and feelings. The physical need to die with them.

The nightmares I would never survive.

The longer I stared into his eyes, the louder his internal thoughts got. Repeating… “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” over and over again with no end in sight.

This wasn’t a nightmare.

This was my reality now.

The monster in the night walked out of my home. Crossing the mangled threshold they so harshly brought down, with two of his men by his side. The home he destroyed with nothing but corruption, violence, and murder. Never once looking back at the reality that was now my life.

I was the first to break Damien’s intense stare, shifting my eyes to my sister, my father, and my mother…

They weren’t smiling.

They weren’t laughing.

They weren’t moving.

There was no soul, no life, no love.

Nothing.

They were all dead.

The string that connected me to the man named Damien snapped…

And I ran.

I ran on pure impulse toward my father, running as fast as my legs would allow me to go. Falling to my knees in all the blood pouring out of his unrecognizable face and body.

“Papi! You gotta wake up!” I coaxed, placing my trembling hand everywhere not knowing where to stop the bleeding. “Please… Papi… you gotta help me wake up Mami and Teresa… I can’t do this alone… so wake up now, okay?” I threw my arms around his body, shielding him from bleeding out with Yuly in between us. Closing my eyes as tight as I could. I cried over his body, shaking him so hard to wake up. “Remember, you promised you were going to take me to the city? We were going to see the world? Remember, Papi? You promised…”

He wasn’t moving.

He wasn’t waking up.

There was nothing I could do.

“I’m sorry, Papi! I’m sorry, I didn’t stay hidden. Please… don’t be mad at me… I’m still your good girl, right?”

“He’s fucking dead, you stupid girl. Your family’s dead. How’s it feel to be a fucking orphan?” one of the guards hollered from across the room.

I slowly sat up and stood, rooted in my spot, looking at the lifeless bodies. Taking in his words. There was so much blood all over me and Yuly, I couldn’t even see my skin. I bowed my head, so much guilt and regret hitting me harder than anything I’d ever experienced before.

Maybe if I would’ve stayed hidden they would still be alive?

Fresh tears leaked from my eyes, and it took everything in me not to continue to beg for his forgiveness.

“I asked you a question,” the man spewed, making me gaze up at him through the slits of my swollen eyes.

“I hate you,” I whispered so low he couldn’t hear.

“What was that? I can’t hear you over the sound of your pathetic whimpers.”

“I said,” I stood taller with Yuly, my hand clenching into a fist, “I HATE YOU!” I seethed, charging the two men beside Damien in the room. Hitting, punching, pushing them as hard as I could. Making them laugh at me. Only fueling my hatred more.

I fought with every ounce of strength I had left inside my hollow shell, still holding onto Yuly. Needing her comfort to keep going. I shoved, slapped, and hit the murderers, wanting to hurt them. Pounded my fist into their rock-hard chests, not paying any mind to the throbbing pain running through my hand. It was nothing compared to the knife in my heart. I just wanted them to die too. I kneed the biggest man in between his legs so hard that I fell back on the broken glass, wincing instantly from the pain.

His hand instinctively went up in the air about to slap me across my face, but a strong arm wrapped around my stomach, yanking me back. Lifting me off the floor, just missing the large man’s hand as it whooshed by my face. As soon as my back collided with someone’s solid chest, I turned around in their arms and fought.

“No! No! No!” I shrieked, roughly trying to fight him off. Shaking my head back and forth.

“Calm down!” he urged, engulfing me in nothing but my sister’s blood. It was only then that I knew it was Damien.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t stop fighting. I was choking, drowning deeper in my despair. In the memories that would haunt me when I was awake and terrorize me when I tried to sleep.

“I hate you! I wish you were all dead!” I yelled hysterically. I was hyperventilating to the point where my vision was getting spotty. My vocal cords felt like they were on fire. “Don’t touch me!” I screamed bloody murder, continuing my assault.

Hitting all over his face, his chest, anywhere I could with him still holding onto my flailing body. He didn’t block me, he didn’t stop me. He let me deliver every blow, exactly how he let Teresa. Knowing he deserved it and more.

“This is all your fault! You did this! Murderer!” I roared, pushing him and hitting him harder, faster, letting my adrenaline kick in at full force. My eyes seeing red, and my body sickened with rage and the desire to fall apart.

“You puta!” the man who I hit in between the legs sneered. Grabbing ahold of Yuly, trying to yank her out of my deathly grasp.

“NO! PLEASE NO!” I begged, gripping onto her as tight as I could. “She’s all I have! PLEASE!”

Her dress tore and her arm snapped off, causing the men to laugh harder as I mourned another life that they were about to take away from me.

“PLEASE!” I bellowed out.

He was now holding onto Yuly as he looked me in the eyes, snapping her head from her body.

“NO!” I shouted loud enough to break glass, reaching for her before he threw her across the room.

As if she was nothing.

When she meant everything to me.

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you, so much!” I sobbed, struggling against Damien’s arms. Bringing my hands up to his neck, I scratched my nails down to his chest. Leaving a trail of blood in their wake. I needed to get to Yuly.

Damien forcefully threw me onto the floor like a rag doll, hitting my head with a thud. I shuddered from the impact of his strength.

“You fucking bitch!” Damien raged, looking down at me with hate in his eyes. His demeanor quickly changing. “Leave us, NOW! I’ll take care of this little bitch!”

“I should fuck the disobedience right out of her,” one of the men fumed, walking out the door with the other man. Leaving us alone.

“I said I got her! Now get the fuck out!”

Before I gave it another thought, Damien pulled his gun out from the back of his fatigues. It was then that another brutal reality came crashing down on me. 

I. Was. Wrong.

So very wrong…

The monster hadn’t left, he was standing right in front of me. Pulling the trigger.

Ending it all…

 

For me.

 

 

 

 

 

I didn’t give it a second thought.

I grabbed a book of matches from the end table, striking the strip, watching the end spark. Taking a second to smell the sulfur before throwing the stick on the floor. Lighting the godforsaken house on fire. I was right, it only took seconds for the shitty, thin wood to catch fire. Orange and red flames crept over the massacre, igniting the blood, erasing the night like it never happened.

I took one last look at her small, lifeless body lying on the floor in front of me. Remembering the look in her eyes when my gun was aimed directly in her face, before she took her last breath. There was nothing I could do anymore.

What was done, was done.

This was my life…

Now, forever, and all the days in between.

I walked out of the house completely numb, as the flames erupted behind me. Engulfing the shack, burning the bodies of the loving family that once lived there.

Their blood eternally on my hands.

“What the fuck?” Salazar questioned, cocking his head to the side. He was leaning against his limo with my father and Pedro by his side. The other guards were already waiting inside the vehicle.

“Que?” I replied, “What?”

“La niña? ¿La mataste?” he asked, “The girl? You killed her?”

“You said she was my responsibility. What the fuck would I do with a little girl?”

“Damien, she was a child. You didn’t need—” my father started.

“I didn’t need to do what?” I interjected him, stepping up in his face for the second time that night. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how any of this works. My father must have forgotten to mention he was a cold-blooded killer. Isn’t this what you wanted? Training me all these years, preparing me to become a soldier? I did what I had to do. In my eyes, she was a fucking liability. You want her running her mouth to anyone who will listen? Because I sure as shit don’t. I did her a favor, she’s with her family now. It’s where she belongs.”

Salazar narrowed his eyes at me, grinning. “A saint one minute, a sinner the next. You see, Damien, you and I are not that different at all. You’re such a loose fucking cannon—a wild card. I’ve always admired that about you. Never knowing what you’re going to do. Keeps things interesting.”

I eyed him up and down, repeating his words, “Fatherland or death, we shall win.”

“You should have seen how he threw the little bitch down,” Pedro chuckled. “We let you have your first kill to yourself, motherfucker, the way it should always be. But next time… we get to watch.”

Emilio smiled, pushing off his limo. “It gets easier, just ask your father, but unlike him, you don’t pick up strays,” he chuckled, walking over to me, and I resisted the urge to ask him what he meant.

“I knew it wouldn’t take long until you saw things my way. You’re a true Cuban. A goddamn soldier, and I’m fucking proud to have you stand by me.” Throwing his arm over my shoulder, he tugged me into his side. “This is only the beginning. Tonight was nothing compared to what I have in store for you. You will accomplish big things with my guidance. Before you know it, you’ll be just like me. Everything you wanted, trained for, came true tonight, Damien,” he affirmed, nodding to his men. “Now, let’s get the fuck out of here and let these traitors rot in Hell, where they belong.”

I stepped into the vehicle, taking a seat in the same spot I had when we arrived. Sinking into the black leather and leaning my head back against the headrest. I caught a glimpse of my face amongst the flames, reflecting off the tinted glass. No longer recognizing the man staring back at me, as I watched the house burn to the ground.

“How did it feel to have your first taste of pussy? Her virgin blood on your cock? She loved it. Don’t let her fool you, I know you heard the puta’s moans. A little advice for next time, it feels much better when you actually come,” Salazar mocked, making everyone laugh right along with him. Except my father, he was lost in his thoughts. Staring out the tinted window.

I scoffed, “I guess unlike all the men in this limo, I can fuck for longer than five minutes.”

They all laughed harder, throwing their heads back. Salazar handed me a bottle of bourbon and I greedily took it down, inhaling the burn of the fiery liquid with fucking pleasure. I wanted to forget. I wanted to pretend like tonight never happened.

Knowing it was far from fucking over.

I didn’t know how much time went by before the limo came to a halt outside of my house. “Get some sleep. Got an early morning tomorrow. Be at my house by seven,” Emilio instructed, breaking me from my trance-like state of emptiness.

I gave him a curt nod and stepped out, quickly realizing I was the only one to exit the vehicle as it drove away. I shook my head, unfazed. It wasn’t unusual for my father to stay by Salazar’s side, leaving me to fend for myself. Except this time, it had nothing to do with his duties and loyalty to our leader. He was purposely avoiding me.

Ashamed. Fully aware of the fucking monster in the making.

Me.  

I shook off the thoughts, making my way inside. Setting what I had on the counter, I went straight into the shower, fatigues and all. Trying to rinse away the night’s memories that would forever be a part of me. Letting the hot water burn into my skin, needing to feel something, anything, again. Watching all the blood from the lives I had taken swirl around the drain.

Out of sight, but it would never be out of mind.

After the water turned cold, I got out. Going about my business before jumping into my car and driving off into the night. It didn’t take long until I reached my first destination, rushing up the front steps and knocking on the door. She answered immediately, looking confused. 

“I need your help,” I simply stated, handing over what I was carrying. 

She didn’t ask any questions, giving it back to me once she was done. I kissed her cheek and just as fast as I had arrived, I was gone.

The streets were dark and empty, and I welcomed the solitude. The storm in my mind had come and gone, but the wind remained as I drove down memory lane. I parked my car on the gravel path just after one in the morning. Turning off the engine, but leaving the headlights on to see through all the haze and dust falling from the night’s sky.

I took a deep breath to steady my nerves before exiting my car. Making sure to grab what was sitting in my passenger seat, I tucked it in the back of my jeans, right beside my gun. The stench, lingering in the air immediately assaulted my senses, but I didn’t pay it any mind. Too focused on the responsibility I still had. One foot in front of the other, I was pulled to my purpose. Hearing nothing but the charred debris beneath my boots and the wind whistling in the trees. Faint sounds of what was to come.

I never believed in having a bond with someone, never thought about fate or destiny or any of that bullshit. Never considered being tied to a soul through a connection that didn’t make any sense. Though the second I stepped into that barn, I knew exactly where she’d be hiding.

As if her heart was now linked to mine.

I turned on the soft lighting, illuminating the open space of the decrepit structure. Stepping further into the barn to take a quick look around. It was fairly empty except for some old farming tools on the furthest wall and barrels of hay scattered throughout the area.

The ladder to the hay loft was lying partially broken on the ground. Like it had been kicked off the ledge it was once secured to, above my head. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I set the intact part of the splintered wood against the nearest support beam, in the corner. Taking two steps at a time, I hoisted my six-foot-four frame up, clearing the missing space to climb up to the loft to get her.

An immediate sense of pride washed over me as I made my way up there. Another feeling that made no fucking sense to me. I had no idea who she was, but I already had an emotional attachment to her. Proud as fuck she was smart enough to try to derail anyone from coming to hurt her again. I moved a few barrels of hay out of the way, pushing them over the edge of the loft to clear the small space.

What I saw next hurt me in ways I didn’t think were possible. Not after what I’d witnessed and participated in that night. She was sitting in the back corner with her knees pressed against her chest. Both arms tightly wrapped around her legs, caging in a few baby chicks on her lap. Holding a hammer in her grasp so fucking tight that her knuckles had turned white.

“Jesus Christ,” I breathed out, taking in her father’s dried-up blood all over her face and body. The way she wasn’t moving, just sitting there like a scared little mouse. She hadn’t peered at me once, staring blankly out in front of her.

Lost.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but I didn’t know where to start. There was so much to fucking say, so many explanations and apologies to be made, but not nearly enough time for me to amend them. I was frozen in front of her, picturing the life she would never have. The years of memories that would forever haunt her. Any mistakes or regrets she may be feeling. It all came rushing over me, piling on top of my conscience. The weight suffocating me like I was being buried alive. The rage and adrenaline was still pumping through my veins, searing to the point of pain.

Hating myself even more for what I had done.

“Amira…” I coaxed, surrendering my hands out in front of me as I crouched down to her level. Needing her to understand I wasn’t going to hurt her any more than I already had.

Nothing.

I could see the night flashing before her eyes with no end in sight. Every last second of it playing out in front of her with nowhere for her to hide this time.

“Amira, my name is Damien. Can you look at me please? I need you to look at me… Can you do that for me?”

She sucked in air, snapping out of her worst nightmare. Turning her attention to gaze at me, as if she just realized I was there with her. She immediately scooted back, further away from me and into the wall like she was trying to mold herself into the wood. Her lips wouldn’t stop shaking, staring at me with wide, petrified eyes. She lifted her trembling hand in the air, showing me she had a weapon.

Her demeanor broke what was left of my fucking heart. Replicating with the image of her standing there traumatized in front of me, while her sister Teresa lay dead in my arms. 

The life that was taken away from Amira so harshly, so violently, so fucking unfairly. 

As if we both never left the scene of the crime.

“It’s okay… remember? I told you to run into the barn and hide, and I’d come back for you.”

She winced, shutting her eyes. Sinking deeper into the abyss where her mind had gone, fiercely shaking her head back and forth.

“Amira, tengo algo para ti, mira… Por favor, muñeca, ayúdame para que pueda ayudarte,” I voiced, “Amira, I have something for you, look… Please, doll, help me so I can help you.”

I didn’t know what possessed me to call her that, but as soon as I said it, she slowly started opening her gaze like it brought back some sort of memory for her. Our eyes connected as I clutched onto her doll in the back of my jeans.

After she hauled ass from the house, out the back door where no one could see her run to hide, I grabbed the broken pieces of her doll and hid them under my fatigues. No one noticed, though why would they, I played the goddamn part perfectly.

Once I got home, I took a shower, mostly for her sake. The last thing I wanted was for her to see me in the same shape I was in before I left. Covered in her sister’s blood. It didn’t take me long to get to Rosarío’s house so she could fix and clean up the doll. Making it look almost as good as new.

Amira cautiously watched as I pulled the doll from behind my back, slowly placing it in between us. This was my last bit of hope, silently praying she would know this was my way of extending some sort of olive branch to her.

Where she could meet me in the middle to try to mend the future of both our lives. I was going to be in her life, whether she wanted me to be or not.

It would just make things easier if she allowed it.

“Yuly?” she finally spoke. Her eyes welling up with fresh tears, not believing what she was seeing. The sight of the small doll restoring a little piece of what was left of her heart.

I nodded not knowing what else to say, or how to make any of this easier for her. The doll was the only thing I had from her previous life. It didn’t make things right by any means, but I was hopeful it would provide her with a little comfort.

Something…

Anything…

For her to keep living.

Our eyes never strayed from one another as she hesitantly reached for the doll. Taking it out of my hands.

“Muñeca, I’m not going to hurt you,” I sincerely stated in Spanish. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

She stared at me and then down at her doll with so much confusion in her stare. Unsure what to think or what to do. Searching Yuly for some answers. She had to realize that she had no choice. At the end of the day, I was her only hope. I’d drag her out of here kicking and screaming if I had to, and I think a part of her was already aware of that.

“We have to go.”

I brought her attention back to me. “Where? Where do I go?” she whispered loud enough for me to hear.

“You let me worry about that.” I stood, extending my hand for her to take.

Her glare shifted to my hand and then down to her lap where the baby chicks were still lying.

“They can come too,” I answered her unspoken question. Ready to do whatever it took to get her the fuck out of there.

She peered back up at me, narrowing her eyes. Trying to figure me out. Put together the missing pieces of the puzzle that were spread right out in front of her. “You promise… you promise you’re not going to hurt me? I’m safe with you? From the monsters…”

For the third time tonight, it felt like I took another bullet to my goddamn heart. So, I simply replied, “You’re safe with me, Muñeca.”

She nodded like she believed me, placing the chicks in the twine basket beside her. Not saying a word as she warily grabbed ahold of my hand to leave this place once and for all. I carried her on my back down the ladder, telling her to wait for me while I went back up to grab her basket of chicks.

She sat in the backseat holding her baby doll tight, shedding some more tears for the life she was leaving behind. Occasionally, our gazes would meet in the rearview mirror, and I’d offer her a slight smile for reassurance. She’d just wipe away some stray tears and go back to observing out the window. When we hit the main road out of fucking Hell, she finally let her exhaustion take her under.

I once again drove to the only home I’d ever truly known. Just after two in the morning, Rosarío opened the door startled, blinking away her sleepy haze. Being woken up by me for the second time that night. She took one look at me and then down to the little girl covered in dried-up blood, who was hiding behind my legs. Her face tucked into her doll and the baby chicks.

Rosarío didn’t hesitate, instantly greeting, “Come in.”

I followed Damien into the house he brought me to, trying to keep my tears at bay. Scared he was just going to leave me here with some strange woman and I’d never see him again. I didn’t know why I felt such an emotional attachment to a man I’d only just met.

A complete stranger.

When he raised his gun up to my face for the second time tonight, for a split-second I thought he was really going to kill me. But he didn’t. He moved his gun to the left and pulled the trigger, hitting the wall instead. Immediately rushing me out the backdoor to get away. Ordering me to run to the barn as fast as I could and stay there till he came back for me.

I didn’t think twice about it. I ran through the open field that used to bring me so much happiness. Waiting for my papi to chase after me and tickle me to the ground. But those days were gone. The light burning inside me was snuffed out by evil. I didn’t look back, I just ran until I was by myself in the barn. Watching the only home I’d ever known burn to a pile of ashes in front of my eyes.

I was scared.

I was alone.

I hated being alone.

I grabbed a hammer and the only flashlight we owned, not wanting to turn on the barn lights and attract unwanted attention. I gathered my favorite baby chicks in Mami’s twine basket and used the ladder to go up and hide in the loft. Kicking it over before tucking myself behind a stack of hay, waiting. It was my second favorite hiding spot, often spending time up there when Papi was away. I waited for what felt like forever, trying to find comfort through my furry babies, but the images of the night wouldn’t leave me alone.

A nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

Not now.

Not ever.

So, I just kept waiting, slipping into a dazed-like state, willing my eyes to stay open. The next thing I knew, a tall, shadowy figure was crouched down right in front of me. As if he appeared out of thin air. At first, I thought I was imagining him. It wasn’t until I heard him call me Muñeca and say he had something for me, that I realized he was real. For some reason, the image of him at that very moment brought back the memory of when Papi said he had a gift for me.

There was kindness in his eyes again, his stare never wavering from mine as he slowly placed Yuly in between us. Showing me he’d fixed her, cleaned her up, making her look perfect again.

For me.

I believed him when he said I was safe in his care, which was why I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want to be a scared little girl, taking on this new world alone.

In a way, he was all I had left.

I smelled the woman before I felt her crouch down in front of me on the couch, bringing me back to the present. She smelled like cookies and honey, reminding me of my mami.

“What’s your name?” she asked softly.

“Amira,” I whispered into my doll, unsure of my new surroundings.

“What do you have there, Amira? Can you show me?” she questioned in the softest voice, rubbing my back.

“Yuly.”

“Oh, is that your doll’s name? That’s a beautiful name for such a beautiful doll. Are those your baby chicks too?”

I nodded.

“How old are you, Amira?”

“Nine.”

“Wow, you’re a big girl. Can you show me your face? Can I see your pretty eyes?”

I swallowed hard, shyly lifting my chin.

She slightly gasped. “I was right. You look like a princess. My name is Rosarío. Damien is my family, so do you know what that means?”

I shook my head.

“That means you’re now my family too.”

I glanced over at Damien where he was sitting on the opposite couch, draped over with his elbows resting on his knees. Watching us with an intense glare. His eyes shifted to Rosarío, nodding to me. Responding to my unspoken question in my mind.

I could trust her too.

“Amira, I just made some torticas de moron. Those are Damien’s favorite. How about we get you washed up and in some nice, clean clothes. Then I’ll warm up some food and pour a tall glass of milk for you. How does that sound?”

I extended my basket of baby chicks, silently asking her what to do with them.

She lovingly smiled, brushing a few strands of hair away from my face like Papi used to do. “Don’t worry about your baby chicks, they will be right here when you get back. I promise.”

My eyes locked with Damien’s for a few seconds and he simply nodded, once again easing my worries.

He’d be here too.

She turned on the shower in the bathroom, helping me clean off all the blood from my hair and body. Making me feel comfortable and not so alone as she told me all about her life. Where she was born, how she knew Damien, her husband’s name who had suddenly passed away. Telling me it didn’t matter that he was gone because he would always live in her heart.

I liked her.

It was hard not to.

She left one of her nightgowns on the sink for me since I had no clothes, saying she was going to warm up my food so it would be ready when I finished up. I got dressed, staring into the floor-length mirror when I was done. The girl reflecting back at me looked different, older, less innocent and pure. I bowed my head, grabbing Yuly, and turned off the light before I stepped out in the hallway, not knowing where to go.

“Who is she, Damien?”

I followed Rosarío’s voice down the hall, listening closely as I made each step. 

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, Rosarío.”

“Then what? I didn’t ask any questions when I helped you, fixing that doll and cleaning her up for you. Ignoring the fact that it was covered in blood. But now, you bring this little girl covered in blood to my home, in the middle of the night. What should I be asking?”

“I didn’t know where else to take her. I’m at a loss here too.”

“Who is she?”

I stopped behind the swinging doors to the kitchen, waiting to see where this conversation was going. I knew I wasn’t supposed to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to know what was going to happen to me. 

“She’s my responsibility. She’s mine,” he declared, catching me off guard. 

“In what sense?”

“She’s not my daughter, Rosarío. You know me better than that. I don’t fuck around with whores.”

“Right now, I feel like I don’t know you at all because all you’re giving me is vague responses.”

He sighed, taking a deep breath. “Did you know?”

“Did I know what?”

“Don’t play fucking games with me!” Damien roared, slamming his hand down on what sounded like a table. Making me jump. “My father. Emilio Salazar… My goddamn future!”

“Shhh! You’re going to frighten the girl. Keep your voice down and your temper in check. Something tells me she doesn’t know about your short fuse and foul mouth yet.”

He scoffed, “After what she’s witnessed tonight, it’s her memories that are going to frighten her. My temper and foul mouth are the least of her concerns. Now answer my question. Did. You. Know?”

She didn’t say anything for what felt like a long time until she finally stammered, “Your father, he… he’s… a good man, Damien…”

“In comparison to what? Eh?”

Silence.

He snidely chuckled. “Who doesn’t know who now, Rosarío?”

“You knowing my past doesn’t change that little girl’s future. I would know, I’ve been in her shoes. You and your father are more alike than you—”

“Fuck him! To hell with him and his bullshit lies!”

“That’s not fair.”

“You want to know what’s not fair? I’ll tell you what’s not fucking fair... what will happen to Amira if Salazar finds out I didn’t really kill her? That’s what’s not fucking fair.”

“What will happen to me?” I interrupted without thinking, stepping foot into the kitchen. Looking at Damien for answers like I’d been doing all night.

He didn’t hesitate, responding, “The same fate that met your family tonight.”

“But… he said… the monster… he said… he told you… that I was yours… you remember?” I stuttered, my voice trembling.

“No, Damien, that’s where you’re wrong,” Rosarío countered, bringing our attention to her. “He’ll use her as a pawn against you. Exactly how he did with your father.”

“Is that what happened? He used you as a—”

“No. He didn’t have to. He already had you,” she interrupted Damien, pausing like she was thinking what to say next. “Fatherland or death, we shall win, right? You see, he doesn’t just want your loyalty, he wants your soul. We’re all prisoners here, it’s why we live this communist life. He gets off on the power. The more you fight him, the harder he will come after you. I would know… it cost my husband his life.”

“Rosarío—”

She stepped toward him, cutting him off again. Placing her hand on his cheek in a loving gesture. Adding, “But I wouldn’t have had the pleasure to help raise you, if the circumstances were different.”

The expression on Damien’s face quickly changed. Suddenly understanding what she implied. Only confusing me even more.

She left him in a daze, walking over to where I stood, crouching down to my level. She smiled with tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mamita. I know what it’s like to lose your world, when all your family wanted was to give you a better one. You’re safe here from the monster, I promise.”

I nodded, what other choice did I have.

I ate in silence at the kitchen table, overhearing them talk from the living room. Even though they were whispering, I could still hear Damien tell her that he would provide for me. Getting me all the things I needed from clothes, to food, to a tutor. She told him not to worry about any of that now, they would figure it all out in time together.

After devouring my plate of food, I set my dish in the sink, wanting to join them in the living room. When I walked in, my heart sank. Damien was nowhere to be found.

Rosarío was sitting, playing with my baby chicks. She wanted to give me a quick tour around her house, my new home as she called it. Trying to make me more comfortable and at ease with the new situation that was now my life. I barely paid her any attention.

He was gone.

He had left me.

He didn’t even say goodbye.

She ended the tour by showing me where I could sleep, opening the door and turning on the light. It was much bigger than my room back home. A simple space with a twin bed, dresser, and some old paintings on the walls. A floral armchair sat in the far corner near the bed with a knitted throw blanket draped over the back and a little reading table beside it.

“I know it’s not much right now, but you can make it your own. We can go out and get you some girly decorations, a comforter, and some toys to spruce up the space,” she said. 

I was at a loss for words, resisting the urge to cry again. I couldn’t believe he’d left me. After all that, he abandoned me. My finger traced an old book with worn pages sitting on the little table.

“This was Damien’s room when he’d stay with me.”

I felt a sudden sense of comfort, learning that this was his room. Soothing the loneliness in my heart. 

“I used to read that book to Damien every night at bedtime when he was a boy. Maybe I could read it to you sometime.”

I just gazed at her, nodding. Unable to push through the sadness. She took one last look around before heading to the door. Reminding me that her room was just across the hall and I could come get her if I needed anything, no matter the time. I simply nodded again, exhausted and overwhelmed. Feeling like yet another person had already left my life.

She tightly hugged me, kissing the top of my head, and said goodnight. I took one last look around the room like she had and then went and used the bathroom down the hall, going about my business as if it was any other night. Brushing my teeth with the toothbrush Rosarío had left out for me and washing up. Avoiding the mirror at all costs.

I slightly opened the door to the bathroom when I was done. Peering out into the dark hallway, still unsure of my surroundings, before making my way back to my room. Clutching onto Yuly as hard as I could for comfort. As soon as I stepped inside, I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw him. Immediately wondering where he came from.

Damien.

He was standing in the middle of the room, holding the basket of chicks, waiting for me. I didn’t know what came over me, but I breathed a visible sigh of relief and ran to him. Throwing my arms around his legs as tight as I could, not feeling so alone anymore. I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. Crying into his jeans, letting go of every last emotion I still had bottled up inside of me.

He was there.

He was really there with me.

I wasn’t imagining it.

His arm wrapped around my shoulders, hugging me back. I squeezed him tighter. Sobbing harder.

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

In that moment with him, something told me that for the first time in his life…

He didn’t feel so alone anymore either.