My father exhales harshly, defeat spilling from every pore in his body. “I don’t know, mijo. Whatever you choose, just know we got you. We are here for both of you, Son.”
“I love her dad, and now—”
“Now you both heal and keep pushing,” he finishes.“You push, Son. For her.” I turn to face him and tell him the truth that should have been hers to say.
“She’s pregnant.”
He nods. “Yeah, that woman is.”
I shake my head, “No, you’re not understanding. Ronnie is pregnant.”
I can see the color drain from his tan skin, his eyes going so wide that all I can see is the sclera of them when it dawns on him. “Son,” is all he chokes out. The words scrape out of him like it hurts. “He made… he made me rape her. She’s pregnant.”
“No,” he whispers, shaking his head.
“Yes,” I counter. “Now tell me what to do, Dad? Please.” My voice breaks when I feel him step back as he tries to steady his breath, the truth of it all sinking in. Without a word, he turns and walks, putting distance between us before the weight knocks him down. While I mentally prepare myself to face the woman I love, to pretend like my walls aren’t caving in and that our love isn’t ticking away like a bomb ready to detonate.
“You guys get to go home today,” my stepmother whispers.“Where is Nelson?”
“He went down the hall. He needs space.”
“That bad, huh?”
I nod, blinking the tears threatening to spill. “That bad,” I repeat, watching as she strokes Ronnie's hair. My girl sleeps still so unaware that our future is crumbling around us before it gets a chance to even start. I look at Ronnie, who gently snores in her sleep, my heart clenching inside my chest. After everything we've been through, we barely survived, and there’s more. The irony isn’t lost to me, just when I thought I could help pick up the pieces that are destined tocome back down.
It’s late afternoon by the time they let us go. The sky is washed in pink and orange, a perfect blend of colors painted across the horizon. It’s warm and inviting, contradicting everything I feel. I should feel hopeful, the kind I expect Ronnie to feel, but I’m one step from falling over the edge.
There’s no hopefulness inside because I know how it ends.
I try to force the thoughts away, refusing to spend the little time I have left sulking on what’s to come. There’s no turning back. No fixing this. There’s only one path for me to take. My pace slows down, watching as Ronnieleans into her mom in small steps, her posture is rigid. Every muscle in her body is tense. That’s what I admire about her. She always wants to appear stronger than she feels, and here, out in the open, that’s her armor. Nixie spots us from the parking lot, jumping out of the passenger seat and running straight to her older sister, who waits for her with open arms.
“RONNIE!” she shouts, or maybe sobs, before colliding into Veronica, who barely manages to get her arms around her, before she buries her face into her chest. Mariana runs a hand down the back of Nix's head, whispering words I’m too far to hear, but can see from my distance the way her shoulders shake with each sob and how both women console her. I grow closer, each step slower, giving them the time they need, when Nixie pulls away, her mother wiping tears from her face as her gaze meets mine.
“Iz,” she whispers, her lips quivering. Within seconds, she’s off Ronnie and colliding into me with a force that knocks the air from my lungs. “Hey, kiddo,” I say, running my hand down her soft tendrils, her tears soaking my shirt and skin. “Shh, it’s okay. We’re okay.” My words do very little to soothe her, not that I blame her. It was hard for us back there. I can only imagine how hard it was for our loved ones. Wondering if we’re okay? Will they ever see us again?
Pops honks the horn, rushing us so we can get going. “We gotta go, kiddo, let’sgo.”
With that, she pulls away, interlocking her hand with mine as we walk back towards the SUV idling in front of us. Once everyone is inside, my dad angles his body so he can look at us. Suddenly, we’re no longer adults. In his eyes, we’re just kids, and he’s bringing us home. “Everyone is coming back to the house,” Mariana declares. “At least for tonight.”
I nod before shifting my focus to Ronnie, who looks out the window. She’s quiet and chewing on her lip, thinking, I’m sure… Nixie leans into her, pulling her out of her head, and the two begin to talk. Not about the basement or what happened, but about Nixie’s day. Giving Ronnie the distraction she desperately needed.
The drive back isn’t long. Once we arrive, everyone hurries inside, our parents get busy making dinner, Nixie starts on her homework, and Ronnie just stands in front of the bathroom mirror. Completely unaware that I’m also standing behind her, I knock, dragging her attention to me. “Hey, just checking on you.”
She smiles. “Hey, I’m alive.”
“Yeah, you are,” I say with a smirk, stepping inside and closing the door behind me.
“It still doesn’t feel real,” she mutters, looking down at her wrist as her hand wraps around the mark left behind from the cuffs that chained us. Without thinking, my fingers brush over hers, the circular scabs rough beneath the pad of my finger. “Do you think we're dreaming and this is all just in our heads?”
I arch a brow, stepping closer, careful not to crowd her when I grab her hand and place it on my chest right over my beating heart. “Real. This is all real. I’m real. You’re real.”
Her steel eyes shimmer with unshed tears, “I still can’t believe it.”
“Well, believe it, you got us out. You did it. Not me. Not my magic but your rage. Your quick thinking.”
I lean in closer, our breath mingling with each other. As always, her very presence sucks up everything, leaving room for only her. “It’s gonna take time, give yourself some grace. Allow yourself time to heal, because you have that. Time.” She nods, blinking away tears just as Nixie barges into the room, unaware that Ronnie and I are in her bathroom. We both pull away and turn our attention to the youngest Vargas sibling as she strides towards us with a smile plastered on her face. “You guys want to watch a movie?”
“Only if it’s Twilight,” I tease with a wink. She stops before reaching us, looking at us like she’s missing something, or just piecing something together. Knowing Nixie, it could be the latter; perception is her superpower. “She’s sleeping with me.”
