Page 86 of The Hunted
The image of those kids popped in his head again. He still couldn’t see their faces or make out if they were both little boys or little girls. He just saw a mass of brown hair on the smaller one and could feel the presence of the bigger one, rather than see them.
“We’ll be free of them soon. But you can’t forget me, okay? It’s you and me always.”
Santino felt Martin’s grip back on his shoulder, and his vision swam. He was trying to piece together what was real and what was a figment of his imagination. He used Martin’s touch on his shoulder to try and center himself, but it was no use.
“How did I come to live with you?” Santino was digging a grave for his guardian because her arthritis was acting up. She was getting older and weaker. It was a shame, too, because her mind had grown sharper with age. Santino was learning more from her now than he did when he was younger.
She’d leave him soon. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but it did bring up the topic of his past.
“Are you asking because you truly want to know, or is this your attempt to piece together a past you never cared for because you can smell death reaching for me?”
Santino stopped digging and turned to look at his guardian. She’d lost some of her color. She was pale with dark circles under her eyes. She was sipping on her tea, but her hands shook so badly she sighed and placed it on the end table harder than she probably wanted to. He wondered how long she had left, and if she’d go quietly, taking all her secrets with her.
“Both, maybe,” he answered. He had never had a need for his past. If he couldn’t remember it, he figured there was a reason. He couldn’t do anything to change it now.
She smirked. “I wish I had the answers for you. But I don’t. Not in the way that would satisfy your curiosity. Finish digging.”
“Alvarez.” Martin’s voice pierced through his trip down memory lane. “You good?”
He nodded, even though everything around him felt weird. His skin felt too tight, and his breathing was choppy. The sounds of the gym had him gritting his teeth because it sounded like nails on a chalk board. He knew what was happening. He was overstimulated, but he wasn’t sure what actually caused it. If he didn’t get himself centered, he’d dive into a panic attack and that hadn’t happened to him since he first went to live with his guardian.
“You sure?” Martin shifted so they were eye level with each other. “You looking a little clammy.” He went to touch Santino’s head with the back of his hand.
“We’re in a gym.” He batted Martin’s hand away. “I was working up a sweat.” He took a step back, trying and failing to get the ground under him steady.
“Breathe, mijo. Slow your breathing down.” She got eye level with him, but he couldn’t focus. He looked down at the blood on his hand and what lay at his feet. He hadn’t meant to do it, but he was curious. He wondered how it would feel to see death collect what belonged to it.
“Do…don’t tell. I can’t go back.” He hated how weak his voice sounded. His body tensed up, prepping to lash out and run if he needed to.
“You’re not going back to anything.” She showed him her hands. There were brown spots on them. He remembered someone who shouldn’t have been touching him had them too. They called them sunspots. He wasn’t sure why he was focused on that when her hands had blood on them too.But she hadn’t been there when he started carving.
“Do you know what you did?” He nodded, unsure he could get his words out. “Do you want to know what I did?” She reached behind her and pulled out a bigger knife that had more blood on it than his.
He reached for it instead of backing away like he was sure he was supposed to do. But he was fascinated by the size and the amount of blood still dripping from it. It was fresh, like how he had on his smaller one.
“You made a mess, mijo. You did good, but messy like this gets you taken away and something tells me you already fought for your freedom. I can teach you how to be better.”
She held out her hand for his. He took it without hesitation. A part of him thought this was a trap, but a louder part urged him forward. Something in him told him where he was headed was better than where he’d been, even though he had no memory of it.
“Do you know who I am? Where I was?” His heart still raced, but his breathing had slowed down.He’d been living with her for a while now, but he couldn’t remember why or how.
“Let’s see if we can jog your memory, and if we can, I’ll piece together whatever I know.”
“Alvarez, fuck man.” Martin was shaking him hard, and something in him snapped.
He reached forward wrapping his hand around Martin’s throat. “I really hate it when you touch me.” He seethed.
“Duly noted.” Martin wheezed out, seeming unfazed by his lack of oxygen.
Does he think I wouldn’t do it? I wouldn’t here, though, not in front of all these people.
Santino dropped his hold. He took a step back, even though everything in him wanted to keep squeezing until Martin’s eyes popped out of his head and he ceased to exist.
“You sure you good?” Martin looked him over. His lips barely containing a smirk, like he was enjoying this. “I’ve never seen you so,” he waved his hand in front of his face, “not so much unhinged but not put together either. Is it the case?”
“No.” The word left him in a rush.
“You sure? It’s normal for the amount of shit we’ve seen and uncovered. You were bound to break eventually. The mind can only hold so much before it snaps and tries to protect itself.”
