Page 27 of Velvet Deception

Iwas frozen in fear. Moving away from Ramon wasn’t possible. All I could do to get through the trauma of what happened was hold on to my baby, to my son, to the most precious gift in the world.

Stuck in this strange stasis of numbness, I let my brain shut off. It was a defense mechanism. I knew that. I was rooted in this fugue of fear, afraid to budge from this tense, knotted position of curling my arms around my son.

I sniffed, smelling the scent of his shampoo, the hint of dirt from his playing outside earlier. The more I focused and grounded on that, the less I could let my brain process that I smelled the tang of blood in my home, then the bleach.

I held on tight, feeling the softness of Ramon’s hair under my cheek and the light weight of his small body pressed up against mine. If I concentrated on the tactile security I felt from him, I could tune out the fresh memories of those men hitting me, clawing for my pants.

Stubbornly, I closed my eyes and relished the simple, unthreatening darkness behind my lids. With that blank canvas of nothing to perceive, I could work harder on the process of ignoring the visions of blood coating the floor.

And I breathed, in and out, steadily, letting the pattern of respiration sound clear in my ears. I listened to Ramon’s breaths, too, comforted that he was near. I marked the beat of his heart, strong and near as I hugged him. Letting those noises soothe me chased away the chance that I could follow Diego’s movements in the house. Scrapes and drags of bodies taken outside, then theswishof the spray bottle. More wiping squeaks as he cleaned the floor.

Sticking to what could ground me and keep me from sobbing so hard, I tucked in against my son and firmly refused to face the reality that my home was no longer safe.

I had been attacked here, in this supposed safe haven I’d worked so hard to have for my son. I had almost been raped here, in this so-called privacy I’d tried to defend for myself. Unlike how I had been kidnapped at the hospital, this was a transgression onmyturf, in a place where I should’ve been able to feel safe and secure.

It wasn’t right.

It wasn’t fair.

I was tired of how many times the world would need to remind me that nothing about life was fair. I sucked in a choppy breath, and Ramon rubbed my back.

“It’s okay, Mama.”

No!It wasn’t. It wasn’t even close to okay.

“I’m okay.”

I exhaled steadily, taking that to heart. He was. Ramon, my baby, was here with me and safe. He was alive, not hurt. He was home, not kidnapped.

“You’re okay.”

I refused to believe that. Traumatized all over again, I wasn’t sure when I’d ever come close to feeling normal or strong again.

“Diego’s okay, too.”

Oh, God.I feared how much worse he’d fared, fighting like that. Guilt pricked me at how weak and selfish I was to cower in fear and get stuck in shock like this, but I couldn’t help it. I was a survivor of too many terrible things to be able to open my heart and put him first. I couldn’t do anything until I slowly crawled out of this pit of despair and numbing fear.

“I’m what?” Diego asked, just coming back into the house.

The door shut behind him, and as I opened my eyes to face him as he twisted the lock, I took in his appearance. A stark, serious frown claimed the mild confusion he wore before. Somber. Stern. He looked mighty but beaten as he walked further into the room and met my gaze.

His dark brown eyes burned with concern as he scanned me, then Ramon. “I’m what?”

I couldn’t reply, still too shaken and bewildered to be capable of speech. He strode closer so I could fully see the new red marks on his skin where he’d been hit. I noticed the bleed leaking from the stitches I’d sewn on his arm.

“We’re okay,” Ramon said as I eased him off my lap.

In that, he was right. We were all alive. I could manage a couple of slaps. Ramon hadn’t been hit. But Diego… Brave, strong, protective Diego…

“We’re safe from those men ever coming here again,” Diego replied calmly.

“Ramon.” I stood, unsteady on my feet and dizzy from shooting upright so quickly. My son held on to me, but I shooed him away. “It’s late. And it’s…” I shivered, experiencing another jolt of shock as I surveyed the damage done out here. “It’s a mess out here. Please go to bed so I can help Diego with that bleeding cut. It’ll take a while to clean all this up, and it’s better if you go to bed.”

“I can help,” he said, frowning at me.

“No. This isn’t your job. This is…” I shook my head. “I don’t want to worry about your being out here and cutting yourself on anything while I help Diego.”

I couldn’t believe I got that many words out, so scattered with my thoughts and still struggling with a mantra of worries pinging in my head.

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