Page 4 of Unspoken Truths

“Rachelle, breathe,” Mom says, and I realize that I stopped as the black spots roll over my vision.

“I didn’t mean to say that to you,” Emil says, his eyes on me, assessing. “Can I come in, please?”

Mom glances at him before dismissing him, her hand on my back.

“He’s not going to kick us out because you had a bad day,” she says slowly to me.

“I… well, of course not,” Emil says, but I draw up my legs and hide my face in them. “Julia.”

“Not right now,” my mother says. “Wait your turn.”

My mom says it so nonchalantly, yet seriously, and it helps pull me out of the darkness.

“Really, Mom?” I ask her, my voice clogged with emotion.

“I told Emil when we got married that you come first,” she says. “I messed up a lot, Rachelle, but I’m trying. He’ll stay right at that door until you invite him in.”

“Julia,mi amor,” Emil growls. “Who do I need to kill?”

“She won’t tell me,” Mom sighs. “She never does. Rachelle?”

A few deep breaths help me process the fact that I’m not being yelled at, and I peek my head up.

“How bad was today?” Emil asks.

I can see the shadow of someone behind him, and I shake my head as I gaze at it. My stepfather snarls at the person behind him, allowing me to see the same violence that lives in his son. Except, it’s not being directed at me.

I don’t know how to feel about that.

“I’m speaking to my wife and stepdaughter, Nacio, I know very well how you feel about this, but kindly fuck right off,” he says. Turning to me, Emil tries again. “Permission to continue this conversation inside of your room,mijita?”

I don’t know what it means, but it sounds sweet, which surprises me enough to nod.

Emil steps in and slams the door in Ignacio’s face, his son’s gray eyes on me alone. They look surprised that I’m upset, or that his father wants to speak to me.

I don’t understand this place at all.

“Okay,” Emil says. “I have a lot of questions, and it seems as if you have many secrets. How am I doing, Rachelle?”

Swallowing hard, I swear I can still taste dark, disgusting mud, which makes me twitch. I’m certain I look insane as I force myself to appear as if I’m shrugging instead. Ambivalent feels safer for the moment.

“Alright,” he grunts. “Did you really think I was going to hurt you?”

“It’s not the first time I’ve been hurt today,” I mumble, the only truth I’m willing to give up today.

Tugging my shirt to the side, I show him the beginnings of a gnarly bruise.

“I would and will never,” he whispers. “I don’t remember Carlysle Prep being that bad. What else happened?”

“It was nothing,” I state, allowing my shirt to snap back into place. “I don’t want to go back.”

“So you’d rather quit, when you know the education is better there?” he asks.

My mother scowls at him, a look I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.

“I don’t mean it like that,” he says. “Why would you let them win?”

Are you still going to be asking that question when I end up in a body bag?

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