He lets out a shaky breath, wincing as each word lands like a heavy blow. “I will always love her… But she’s gone.” His words twist the knife deeper, just as the look of complete agony takes hold of his features. “I thought it was a child-like crush, something fleeting… “
Fleeting… No. There’s no fucking way he thought that. There’s no way he couldn’t see the love that practically beams like a light every time Ronnie’s around me. My anger reaches its boiling point, and rage spills from the pit of my soul. “I love her…”
“I’m sorry…”
That was the first time I used my fist as a way to convey the words I couldn’t say. How dare you? How couldyou? I hate you…
The smell of antiseptic drags me backward before I have a chance to stop it. I blink away the memory, my gaze landing on my old man, who watches me silently, trying to decipher what I’m thinking. I don’t acknowledge his silent question... I ask one of my own. “How is she?”
He takes a deep breath in and replies, “Sleeping.”
The sting radiating from my palm pulls my attention away and lands on the bandage around my hand. Remembering the wild and feral thrashesof Ronnie’s body, he broke her, and I'm not the one there consoling her. Holding her up while she collects the pieces.
“She’s not doing too well… Marina had to step in.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, his nostrils flaring as he continues. His voice is low and pained. “I’ve never seen Ronnie that way. So out of it before morphing into something feral. Like an animal ready to attack.” He looks towards the window that shows us the night sky and busy streets. “That woman is still alive,” he says, running his hand down his face, the muscle in his jaw visibly tense even through the dark.
“Good,” I murmur. “Someone needs to pay.”
He nods in agreement, bringing his hand to mine and squeezing it. The cops filled me in on what happened while I was busy with Ronnie. Priscilla managed to call the cops before she tried to kill herself. Unfortunately for her, she’s alive. Good thing the police and paramedics arrived when they did, so she can pay for everything that happened. Silence stretches between us, comfortable and welcoming. I follow his gaze and take a long look at the night sky. It's the little things you miss… Being deprived of them for weeks and having the uncertainty that you might not live long enough to enjoy them again really puts things into perspective. My father's eyes are on me. I don't look away from the window, but I can feel them.
“How’s Nix?” I ask, my voice slightly shaky.
“Home. She wanted to come, but with everything going on, we didn’t think it was a good idea.”
I nod.
He’s right, she shouldn’t see us this way right now. My father clears his throat, opening his mouth to speak before his lips thin into a straight line. I can practically feel his question burning through the quiet. “You can ask me anything…”
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” my dad asks, causing me to look his way. I open my mouth to speak, but the words die in my mouth… nothing comes out, and I lean back. I know I said he could, I just didn’t consider that I might be the one not ready to talk. To be quite frank, I didn’t want to. Not when everything inside me aches to be near my girl. My eyes shift to the door, desperate to seek her out.To see her.Not having her beside me and out of sight feels wrong.She needs me. And I need her. After a moment of contemplation, I offer him the simple truth. “I’m not ready for that, Pops.”
He nods, his eyes full of understanding. I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering if Max knows that we've been found. If he’s there with her now, once again trying to take her from me. “Is he here?” I ask, breaking the silence. My dad is silent for a moment, contemplating what to say next.
“Who?”
“Max… Does he know?” My questions stun him, not sure why. I’m sure by now, people can connect the dots as to what happened. He already knows how I feel, so I don’t understand the shock. He clears his throat before replying, “She’s back where she belongs.Mijo, whatever happened down there, let it stay there.”
“Let it stay there. Really?” I scoff, rolling my eyes at his words. If only I could erase what happened, what we endured… the fact that she’s currently pregnant with my child. “You have. No. Idea.”
He opens his hands in defeat. “I don’t, but I know that’s not my daughter. She needs to heal. You need to heal. You can’t heal in the same environment that makes you sick,mijo. Right now, the best way to love her is to let her go.”
So many things flash in my mind. My thoughts become jumbled, leaving nothing but my emotions. So much I want to say, only to choose silence in the end. Nothing I say would change anything… because deep down, I know he’s right. The worst part is over, but this is when the hard part begins. The part where we clean up the mess, trying to find our missing pieces.
“Alexa has been worried sick, Isaac.Mijo, you both made it. You survived. And now, it’s time to heal and let go.”
At this point, I can barely contain the anger that quickly rises to the surface. I shoot up and glare at my father. My rage isn’t necessarily towards him, even though his words irritate me. I know he means well. Still, I can’t help but be angry, quickly making him my target. “So easy for you to say,” I snap, spit particles flyingfrom my lips. “I told you I loved her, and you did this. To me. To us. And now, you sit here and tell me to put things behind me.” A shaky laugh moves past my lips. “Should I pretend that I wasn’t forced to rape her?”
His eyes go wide, exposing all the white, at my words before they soften. His mouth gapes open and slams shut just as quickly. While I simmer in my pain, still bleeding before him. Can he not see it? Pops pinches the bridge of his nose. “Isaac,es tu hermana por Dios1.”
“She’snotmy sister… That's the woman I’ve been in love with for all these years. The same love that you took away from me,” I say, not holding back the pain and anger I’ve felt through the years. “You have no idea what happened down there, what I’ve felt all these years, how I hurt. But you sit here and tell me to move on as if it were as easy as changing clothes. Fuck you. Irapedher.” I slam my hand on the side of the bed. The pain is instant against my already throbbing wound, sending a wave of discomfort up my arm. “I was raped. Then—” My words are cut off by my father's sudden movements.
One minute, he’s sitting... Next, his arm is around me. The dam breaks, and I weep into his arms, like I did the night Mom died. I cry for Ronnie. For me. For everything they took from us, but mostly because we’re alive. Wemadeit. She is finally free and safe. I could die this very moment, and it would be with a smile on my face. It’s going to take time for her, I know, and I don’t care if I'm to be her brother, cousin, who fucking cares, as long as I can be who she leans on while she collects the pieces. That I can watch her rise from the ashes, even if it’s from afar.
“He’s there with her. I don’t say to move on because I don’t know how you feel. Believe me, I feel for you. You can’t fix this, and she can’t fix you,Mijo. Things will take time. All I’m saying is to give things room to bleed, so they can heal.” My father’s words are like heavy rain, washing over me, pulling at the layers of hurt I’ve masked with anger. He pulls back, and his eyes meetmine, full of understanding and regret. A tear slides down his wrinkled cheek. “Let her go. She’s got a long way ahead. One look at her…” He trails off, trying to push back the tears. “One look at you both, and I can only imagine, but she needs to fight for herself.”
“I can’t leave her, Dad,” my voice chokes. “I can’t just walk away.”
His hold tightens around me as he sighs, heavy with the weight of our history.
“You think it’s about walking away? It’s about stepping back, son,” he gently corrects me, and it brings a sinking feeling in my chest. I could argue a million reasons why he is wrong, but the truth is that he isn’t. I did my part in her trauma, and now she carries a permanent reminder. My memory goes back to just a couple of days ago when I asked her to marry me. We are out now, and something inside me knows that those words died in that basement. Those feelings have changed, and once again, I have lost her. I don’t have a chance to gather my thoughts or my emotions when there’s a soft knock at the door, followed by it opening. The blonde waves come into view, then puffy, swollen blue eyes. “Blondie,” I whisper.
