“You disgust me.”
“Vete a la chingada,” he cursed with a scoff. “Bien sabes que Javi would get dead one day. Not my fault he turned out soplón.”
My jaw was going to crack from the tension of holding myself back from beating the shit out of the man standing in front of me.
“And where the fuck is my bedroom door?”
“Pedro,” he spat. “La rompió.”
I shuddered at the memory of running away from the house that night. Of the threats to my life that had kept my mouth shut, prevented me from getting help, getting justice.
“Don’t expect anything from me. I’m not like Javier. I don’t give a fuck about you or your addiction or whether you end up dead from an overdose or from a bullet to your head. Don’t speak to me. Don’t touch me. Don’t even fucking look at me. I’m hereuntil I can get the fuck out. That’s it. Sácate a la chingada o te parto tu madre, ¿me comprendes,pendejo?”
My dad’s lip curled in anger, and I could see his brain getting ready to spew some bullshit. I didn’t know what came over me, but one second I was watching the fucker, and the next my fist was connecting with his windpipe.
He crashed against the wall, wheezing and gagging, clutching at his throat as he stared at me with wild eyes.
I spat on his pathetic face before slamming the door and locking it. I clutched the counter, my ribs throbbing from sleeping in the tub, and now sucker punching my sperm-donor in the throat. He wasn’t my dad. He never was, but he definitely wasn’t after last weekend.
After catching my breath, I stripped and turned on the shower. Waiting for it to warm up, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. The bruises on my face were thankfully turning yellow and fading, but my torso still looked like it was run over by a fucking tractor. Cristian, who apparently was the on-call doctor for Carlos and Ghosts in the area, determined that my ribs were likely hairline fractured or severely bruised. Which meant I had four to six weeks of pain to look forward to.
The fuckface also tested me for every possible STI and STD after I told him I wasn’t happy to just have a round of antibiotics. He said he’d have the results within a few days, but until then I was going to be on pins and needles waiting. He gave me a prescription for a morning-after pill that would still be effective even though it had been more than seventy-two hours.
I had to unfortunately wait more than half an hour for the pharmacy to fill it. I made Adrian wait in the car, nervous about running into someone. I was embarrassingly stupid for not thinking about getting those things myself sooner. I prayed as I took the pill last night that I wouldn’t end up pregnant. Carlos was right, a baby was the last thing I wanted or needed.
I tore my gaze away from myself only to be faced with Javier’s cologne and deodorant on the bathroom counter. It was pathetic, and probably a little unhygienic, but I didn’t give a fuck as I planned to put them on once I was showered.
Maybe it was fucked up that I still missed him after learning about his job, but I didn’t fucking care enough to stop myself from wearing his clothes and smelling like him.
Up until four days ago, I would’ve bet my life that he would have never killed anyone outside of self-defense. I was beginning to wonder if I really knew my brother at all. Maybe it made me weak, or naïve, but even if he lied to me, prevented Carlos from providing me with a more ‘comfortable’ life, even if he hurt people and enjoyed it, I still loved him.
More than anything, I wanted to turn back time and tell him that I loved him. I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d told each other that. Except for when the words died on his lips.
I refused to believe that what Carlos had said about Javier was true. Refused to believe that my brother enjoyed hurting me when he tested my abilities. Refused to believe that he was selling secrets for selfish reasons. If that made me a fool, I didn’t fucking care.
After using his shower soaps, putting on his deodorant and cologne, I drew in a deep breath of his spicy and familiar scent before leaving the sanctuary of the bathroom. I assumed my father left, or hopefully died, because the house was eerily quiet as I walked to my room to get dressed.
After checking my bag was packed for school, I was careful to avoid the mess of drug paraphernalia, drive-thru food wrappers, and the spot in the living room where I last saw my brother’s body. Apparently the ‘cleaners’ Carlos had sent had done their job well, because despite the trash from my father, it was the cleanest I’d ever seen the floors and walls.
My stomach turned as the memories of that night flooded my mind’s eye. I slipped on my sneakers before quickly leaving the house to walk to school.
I spent most of the day in my head, trying to find a solution for my gang related problems. It was a catch-22 situation, and the lesser of the two evils was just going along with what was asked of me. Knowing just how powerful Los Siete was, knowing that they would be able to track me down was crushing the small flicker of hope I had left.
And even if I managed to get out alive, Carlos would still take another child, force them to join his gang, all because I was a coward. I couldn’t stomach that thought either.
I couldn’t see a way out, which meant that by the end of the day I would be a criminal in Carlos’s pocket. I hated that he’d have something to hold over my head, leverage to keep me here, to get me to do whatever he wanted.
The whole thing made me sick.
I couldn’t even enjoy the fact that I got served an extra pudding in the lunch line. I must have really looked like shit for the lunch lady to have given me a pity pudding. I needed to pull my shit together before Adrian picked me up, because I was already anxious about giving the Judge that envelope.
My mind drifted back to yesterday outside of Nox’s house and I cringed. That motherfucker just had to pretend to be my boyfriend. I didn’t know why I cared what Nox thought of me, but I couldn’t help feeling embarrassed.
And Sebastian.God, Sebastian. I only hoped that I didn’t inadvertently involve Seb into shit he didn’t need to be a part of. What would he think if he knew that I lied about Javier? Or if he knew what I was about to do?
My stomach churned with regret and shame. I shouldn’t have promised to see Sebastian again, it was only going to get more difficult to lie.
My knuckles whitened around the lunch tray.I hate them. I hate Carlos. I hate Adrian. I hate my sperm-donor. I hate Javi for lying and leaving me here alone. I hate them all.
