Page 59 of Velvet Deception

Because of me.

I drove there, hit with the reminders that her life could be forever altered just because she’d done the “good” thing of stopping to see if I was alive, of pausing and going out of hercomfort zone to take a chance on me, just like that person at the health clinic in the jungle had taken a chance to help her.

Meeting Sofia and getting to know her was a life lesson that everyone needed to experience. She was so brave and strong, running from a literal hell to survive on her own. It had given her anxiety and trauma, but she persisted beyond it. She had every right to be jaded and hate the world, but she didn’t.

My angel had the audacity to have faith in the good of others. According to her, good and bad were absolutes. Every bad person had the capacity to do good, and vice versa, and that was a sign of her growing and healing in the wake of her trauma.

She had the courage to stand up to her fears and hesitations to still extend a helping hand. It was a demonstration of the firmest goodwill.

And that’s why she can’t make sense with me.

On the drive home, I compared her goodness with the evil I was certain resided in me. I had the joy of killing. I was experienced in death and destruction. It didn’t seem feasible for her to want to stick around with me. I still harbored a fear that she wouldn’t want to once I told her that I suspected I had previously been involved with the Cartel, with thugs like Manny and Antonio and countless others.

I would be upfront. I wouldn’t hide this revelation from her. She deserved better than that.

I parked at the house and locked the car. Overhead, dark clouds swarmed and collected, promising a deluge. Humidity hung low in the air, almost granting an oppressive pressure bearing down on me and pushing my shoulders low. I cracked my back, feeling the side effects of folding myself into Sofia’s small car for so long.

A glance at the sky didn’t tell me much. It didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know, that a storm was coming. When I lowered my gaze, taking in the sight of the front door, I was instantly on edge at what that visual meant.

The door was ajar, hanging open, and that couldn’t be right. It was not a good sign when no one was supposed to be home.

I ran, panicking about the possibility of another break-in, whether more assholes tried to barge in and ransack the place for drugs because Sofia was a nurse and that could be a loose and weak way to assume she’d hoard drugs at her home.

Swinging in slightly from the pound of my footsteps as I ran over the threshold, the door squeaked and whined on its hinges.

The sight that greeted me spoke of nothing but destruction. The furniture was shoved around. More of Sofia’s things had been dropped or thrown on the floor, many of them the Christmas decorations she’d just set out with Ramon’s help. Bits and pieces of debris lay scattered everywhere, but that wasn’t what threatened to stop my heart.

Sofia curled into a ball near the bedroom door. She rocked slightly, sobbing with a heart-wrenching keening sound that only a wounded animal might make.

“Sofia!” I sprinted to her, anxious to hold her and soothe her from whatever had her so distressed.

She didn’t lift her face, burrowing into the fetal position as she cried and cried. Shaking and closed in on herself, she didn’t react to my shout. She wasn’t just locked down mentally. She was trapped in a numb stasis that prevented the outside world from reaching her.

What the fuck happened?

What’s going on?

“Sofia!” I knelt next to her, tugging her into my arms. She didn’t lift her face, but as I rolled her toward me, she loosened her arms slightly, showing me her tear-streaked face, red from sobbing. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her hair mussed and in a disarray that could only look like that from someone’s hands yanking on it.

“Sofia, what’s going on?” I scanned the room quickly, feebly wishing something could give me a clue.

“Who did this?” I demanded, angry before I even knew where to direct my ire. Someone would receive it. Someone would pay.

I had sworn and vowed over and over again that Sofia wouldn’t be hurt under my watch, and I’d failed her. I wasn’t sure why she’d gotten home earlier than I thought she would, just the same as why I felt like I was in the dark about the different arrangements for Ramon to get home. Maybe that was some kind of subliminal communication that happened in families. Something I didn’t know yet.

“Ramon!” I bellowed his name, needing his help to know what happened. He was just next door, but he’d hear my yell. He’d be alert to the sound of my distraught voice.

Sofia shook harder and her cries intensified.

“Sofia, who did this?” Waiting for the telltale sound of Ramon’s feet on the floor as he ran to my yells, I checked over her the best I could. Without her uncurling from this balled-up position, I was limited in helping her and seeing if she was wounded.

No blood came from her skin, and while her face was red, I couldn’t tell if it was only red because she was bawling or if she’d been struck. Some of the swelling high on her cheek had to be from a hit of some kind, but I just couldn’t tell.

“Sofia, please. Talk to me, my angel.” I’d beg. I’d demand. I’d plead. Whatever it took to get her to tell me what happened. Because if I had to keep guessing where I would direct my anger and retaliate, I’d go insane that much faster.

Favoring her arm, she cradled it to her chest.

“Please, Sofia. What happened?” If she was stuck in fear and the lock of trauma, I had to jolt her out of it.

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