Page 76 of Explosive Prejudice

“I understood she was depressed, but there wasn’t much either me or Iván could do, you know? Not only were we just kids, but we didn’t have the money to get her the treatment she needed, like a therapist or putting her into some institution that would help. Truth was, nobody gave a fuck about us. It was like we didn’t even exist. My mamá used to help so many people when she was healthy, but when she needed the help, no one was there.

“At some point, Iván managed to get her some antidepressants, thinking it might help. It only fucked her up further.”

It was only after I came to live with Chief that I learned that there were services that offered cheap and even free therapy that could have helped her, but it was too late.

Putting my empty glass on the table, I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees.

“Eventually, we were scared to leave her alone, so we watched over her in shifts. By then, Iván had already dropped out of school, so he stayed with her in the mornings while I stayed in the afternoons when he worked. We were only nine and fifteen at the time, but we didn’t care.” For years, I tried to avoid thinking about those days because all they ever brought was pain melded with anger. Right now, with Shay-Lee sitting close and listening, I felt neither, and instead, I had an odd sense of comfort.

“Then, one Saturday morning, I saw her in the kitchen.” A hurt smile tangled on my lips as I recalled that image. She stood with her back to me, dark hair falling over her shoulders, wearing the yellow dress she loved so much. I also recalled the hope I had felt in that moment, hope that was taken away in its prime shortly after. “Thinking back, it was ridiculous.” I huffed. “The joy I felt just from seeing her standing there was ridiculous. Pathetic even.” My throat went dry, and my eyes stung.

“It isn’t pathetic,” Shay-Lee said, but I ignored him and focused on the pack of smokes in the middle of the table.

“Iván was working that morning, so it was just Mamá and me. She told me she wanted to cook us breakfast, but she lacked the ingredients and asked me to go buy them for her.” Biting my lip, I shook my head. “I don’t know what made me believe her. I was just so happy to see her that I didn’t even stop to question anything and went on with it.” I paused again, swallowing hard all those repressed feelings and memories. “I went to the shop, and by the time I came back, she’d already blown her head off with my dad’s rifle.”

“Camilo,” Shay-Lee gasped, putting his hand on my arm. His touch was so comforting that not a single part of my body wanted to push him away.

“Do you know what a brain looks like smeared all over the walls? How it smells?” I looked at him, and while his eyes held so many emotions, he didn’t speak. Instead, he shook his head. “Well, I do.”

“I don’t know what to say.” He looked down at the floor.

“You don’t need to.”

He removed his hands from my arm, my skin already missing his touch.

“After that… where did you and Iván go?”

I leaned back on the couch and crossed my arms over my chest. “We were left with my dad. I hated her for that.” The taste of resentment felt like a poison on my tongue because I didn’t want to hate her. “You see, she didn’t only take her own life that day but also ours, leaving my brother and me at the mercy of a monster. What the fuck did she expect would happen?” My muscles tensed. “A few months after, he was arrested again, so Iván and I moved to live with my uncle in Florida. He was just as bad, if not worse, considering how he didn’t give the slightest fuck about us. We were just a tool, stray dogs to train into hounds. It worked. By the age of fifteen, I’d been to juvie three times.” I snorted. “And look at me now, working as a fucking prostitute.”

“You’re not a prostitute,” Shay-Lee snapped.

“Really?” I raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, my eyes unfazed. “Didn’t you pay to see me get undressed? To book meetings with me?”

He swallowed hard, and I watched his throat work. Shit, I really loved his neck.

“It doesn’t matter what I or others paid for. You always went by your rules. No one could ever tell you what to do, Camilo. It’s why you’re so special.” As if suddenly realizing what he said, he quickly looked up, his cheeks flushed red.

“You think I’m special?” I smirked.

His brows pulled together as embarrassment took over, and he averted his gaze. “Fuck off.”

“Why? I like it. Go on. Tell me I’m handsome, too.”

“You’re ugly,” he huffed.

“Sure…” I couldn’t help but smile. “Also, since when did I stop being Diesel?”

“What?” His eyes shot to me.

God. The bastard was so damn gorgeous.

“Just now, you called me Camilo. It’s the third time today.”

Jumping to his feet, Shay-Lee took both of our empty mugs from the table and walked to the kitchen. “Well, you have too many names. How could I not get confused? Nero, Diesel, Camilo, Asshole. I need a fucking list just to keep track.”

“Asshole? Is that an official name?” I asked, following him into the kitchen.

“More like an official title.”

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