“That night, I went back to our rental place that we’d moved into a couple days before because Grandma’s place was becoming too small. Everyone stayed with her that night, but I needed to get away. The entire night, I was left all alone to suffer the thoughts of knowing someone had died because of me. So I did what almost killed me because I should have been the one to die that day.
“God, I’m so sorry,” he pleads. “I’m so sorry that your dad died because of me.” He looks wildly up at Mom. “No words can express how sorry I am, Ms. Jones.”
Nothing can come out of my mouth as I stare straight ahead. The shivers that run throughout my body scare me. Vomit makes its way up my mouth, but I force it down.
“Please say something,” he begs.
Instead of voicing my thoughts, I keep quiet. Getting up from my seat calmly, I walk toward the door without a backward glance and make it to the toilet just in time to empty my stomach.
FIFTY-SEVEN
TRINITY
I’m not sure how long I’ve been lying here.
My eyes burn, begging to be shut so they can rest. I’m scared of what I’ll see if I do. Will nightmares come again? Will I wake up, screaming, while tears run down my face as I stare at the wall ahead of me in terror, afraid that Diego and Rodrigo will come and find me?
The wall in front of me turns blurry in the darkened room as I lick my dry, cracked lips. The blanket wrapped around me is so tight I’m nervous I’m cutting off blood circulation. After hours of crying, I physically can’t cry anymore. I’ve run out of energy. The scariest part is, I feel a sense of calm within me. My body doesn’t shake with anxiety. I’m just lying here, as still as a corpse.
Mom has come in here a few times. She lies beside me silently as we both get lost in thought and question why we deserve this pain. I cry over losing my dad, my killers being in my home like family, and my boyfriend being their target.
They came to X3’s show to finish what they’d started. They wanted the record deal so bad that they would kill for it, even after so many years. Did I give Rodrigo information when I told him about Leonidas in the kitchen? Is that how they knew everything … from me? The two probably knew to go to Greece because of me and Mom. The thought stings. They could not care less who else they shot as long as they got revenge. If Leonidas hadn’t been in my town for his grandma, I would still have a dad.
I cry over him lying to me again, but this time, it’s a thousand times worse. I sob over the fact that everything in my life seems to be a lie. The more I feel like I’m finally reaching the top, the more I’m kicked to the bottom.
No one other than my mom has tried to contact me, which I appreciate. I need to think. I crave to be in the comfort of my own bed. Instead, I’m here in a random hotel suite in Greece.
My thoughts these past couple of hours are about Leonidas. A part of me feels guilty of feeling this way, but I can’t find it in me to be mad at him like I should be. I know that’s fucking terrible of me to think because I lost my dad and my mother lost her husband. But he didn’t pull the trigger. He didn’t know that Diego and Rodrigo were coming after him. He didn’t know Rodrigo was dating mom in the first place.
All these years, I blamed myself for Dad’s death. He was at the music store for me. I lived with the sadness of thinking it was my fault.
After many sessions, my therapist taught me I hadn’t killed my father because my finger hadn’t pulled the trigger; I hadn’t filled the gun up with ammo and aimed it at him. That’s someone else’s crime. It took me so long to realize that, so who am I to blame Leonidas?
Leonidas didn’t wish my father dead; he didn’t want any of this to happen. He almost killed himself over the guilt because he should have been the one on the ground, not breathing. I can’t blame him for a crime he didn’t commit. That wouldn’t be wise of me. He suffered just as much as me—in a way, maybe even worse.
I can’t imagine another human dying, getting a bullet straight through the chest, because of me. The only part of me that’s mad at Leonidas is the fact that he hid yet another secret from me. But he’s never seen Rodrigo and Diego; they were never introduced. The only time they were in the same space is when Leonidas was up in my bedroom for the entire night while I met them for the first time.
Nonetheless, secrets really control Leonidas’s life. It’s like he’s wrapped up in ropes. As he tries to pull away to get free, he gets burns and stops struggling to relieve himself. Not only is he being held hostage by the label, but also by his thoughts.
His anxiety.
I have so many questions that I want to ask him, but I don’t have the energy. I’m scared.
The only good part out of this entire situation is that Dad’s killers are finally placed where they belong. Behind metal bars. I hope they never get a peaceful sleep on their rock-hard beds. I hope they wake up with nightmares. I hope they feel sadness. I know that won’t be possible because their hearts are filled with evil, darkness, sin, and no remorse or feeling. I hope one day, they hit rock bottom. Just like I have.
Call me evil. I don’t give a fuck. They don’t deserve a single thought from me again.
Feeling Mom move behind me has me shifting over to look at her. Her eyes are probably just as red as mine are. Her hair is a mess, and her day-old makeup looks like a Halloween costume. She hasn’t uttered a single word to me. We just lie here, face-to-face, looking at one another. My body jumps slightly from surprise when I feel her warm hand grip my fingers.
“Seems like we’re God’s favorites, huh?” she croaks out suddenly, her voice rough with dryness.
Swallowing tightly, I lick my lips while speaking from my heart. “God never gives you a bigger cross than you can carry.”
It’s the saying I live by. God will never give you a cross he knows you can’t handle. People might think I’m silly after all the world has thrown at me, but I believe God doesn’t cause those moments in life. I believe he gives us hope, that he’s the one blessing us with happiness after the storm.
That’s what keeps me going. That’s why I’m still here today, and that’s how I’m able to be strong for Mom. She can’t always be the one to hide her tears. I know she relies on me. That means, I need to be strong. For her … for my dad.
“I kept telling myself that Dad would be so disappointed in us, that he would hate us. But deep down, I truly know he would say that we couldn’t have known the cruel jokes of this world. He would tell us instead of lying here in pain, we should go party because we’ve finally found his killers. He would also say that he’s in a better place,” I whisper softly over toward her. My eyes follow the path a tear makes on her face.
