Page 1 of Blood Spilled
One
Santiago
I come in and out of consciousness, feeling worse than before. My throat is on fire and my body aches. The room I'm in is a giant white blur, with bright lights and cold air that stabs at my skin. A machine beeps loudly in my ears and I'm lying on a bigger bed than before. I'm not sure how long it's been since I've last been awake before now. It could have been days or weeks. I've lost all sense of time. The only nutrients I've received so far have entered my system through a feeding tube, making me parched and leaving a chalky residue in my throat.
My arms weigh heavy at my sides and may as well be bolted to the table I lay on. Each time I wake, I'm hesitant to open my eyes, trying to mentally prepare myself for what may be in front of them. For what waits for me on the other side of my shaky, closed lids.
Before, I never feared anyone I wasn't meant to trust. I never had a reason to. Worse shit happened in my home than anythingI could run into outside it. I appeared to have the world at my feet–the ability to snap my fingers and have whatever I wanted in the blink of an eye. It was easy for people to assume when the one pulling my strings did a good job at remaining invisible to the naked eye. He kept me alive though. But watching others made me realize over time that it wasn't the same thing as living.
The fancy suits, big house, nice cars and everything else a regular person dreams of having was never enough to fill the void I've grown accustomed to living with. It was never enough to overshadow what waited for me between important meetings, after dates with my fiancé and at the end of each day. Still, I went to bed every night, convincing myself it was enough to keep going. I don't even have that anymore. Now all I have is this broken body and the empty, cold room that surrounds it.
“You can stop pretending to be asleep now,” a deep, rugged, familiar voice says. I remember hearing it many times before when I saw myself as untouchable. He sounds different now–his voice carrying more warning, shaking me to my core. I open my eyes and Angel Castaneda is smiling down at me, his deep brown eyes dark, leaving a twisted sensation in my gut. They are cold and mocking.
There was a time I laughed every time I saw those angry, vengeful eyes. He had become nothing more than a running joke to me. Him and his pathetic family. I'm squirming under his scrutiny now and I hate it. He is the one currently on top, looming over me, his wicked laughter louder than everything else in the room.
“Today was your funeral. A beautiful one at that–surrounded by lovely flower arrangements and people who are very glad you will no longer be around to fill the world with your poison. Welcome to your own personal hell, Santiago. I'll be sure to make it extra special for you.”
His fingers trail my arm, warming my cold skin, only it doesn’t settle me the way it should. I'm already missing the chilled air that covered my arms with goose flesh.
The hair rises on my skin in a different way when he touches me. He continues moving his fingers up and down my arm. “You think you are miserable now … your misery has only begun.” His words are jarring, but I can’t let him know they bother me. I have no control of the expression on my face. The pain meds keep me from reacting the way I normally would, and I am grateful for it.
I close my eyes and let everything fade away from me, taking a break from my current reality the only way I can. He's not the first person I've had to escape this way. Sleep slowly takes me, my world falling dark and for once I'm not looking forward to the light.
The bed dips from added weight and my eyes flash open. The lights are dimmer this time and I’m still in the same room, staring up at the same white ceiling. The fan is spinning so fast above me, it makes me dizzy.
I'm no longer hooked up to machines and the beeping sounds are gone. I slowly bring a hand to my neck and bandages replace the feeding tube that was there before. Most people would call it lucky to have survived a gunshot wound to the neck, but in my case, it was the opposite. I can only move my hands as far as my face with them being chained to the rails of the bed I'm on. At least he’s given me that. I peer down to my mostly exposed, naked body that has nothing more than a thin sheet draped over my waist.
“Morning. I hope you aren't becoming too attached to your new bed or room. Soon you’ll be moving to something more suitable.”
In other words, more degrading and uncomfortable. I don't miss the maliciousness in his harsh brown eyes.
Perched on the edge of the bed, Angel grins from ear to ear and straightens his back to appear taller. To remind me who the smaller man is here. He wraps his large fingers around mine, squeezing so hard I can swear I hear bones crack. Leaning over me, he presses his cold lips against mine. I remain motionless.
“Don't worry, you will soon crave my kisses. Because, it'll be a nice break from all the pain.”
I can already feel Angel’s knives tearing me apart, piece by piece. Even though I may be screaming inside from whatever he does to me, I will never give him the satisfaction out loud. For now, I'll let him enjoy his victory. Let him think he's won.
When I regain my strength, I will take back everything he's taken from me. Then I'll be the one looking down at him in the hole I'll leave him to rot in. I force my lips into a half smile, allowing my aching eyes to meet his. “I can't wait.”
He spits in my face and his lips press into a thin line as he smears his saliva over my right cheek with the rough pad of his thumb. “Don't worry, precious, you won't have to wait for long.”
Two
Angel
I never thought I would see the day that Santiago Morales would lie in front of me with displeased eyes, completely vulnerable. Every bruise, scratch and bit of flesh is on full display. He is this helpless tiny mouse and I am the big bad hungry wolf marking his prey.
His jaw clenches, I smile knowing my words and touch are affecting him. He can pretend all he wants, but I can spot fear from miles away, no matter how good of an actor someone is. His eyes pierce mine; a deep green with hints of gold in them I've never noticed before.
Normally I'd say they were breathtaking and beautiful, but such sweet words should never be used to describe someone so vile. He is a monster, and there is only one place for people like him—hell. And who can bring him closer to it than me? I always keep my promises, and made him one a long time ago. I've been waiting for this moment for way too long. Now that it's here, Ino longer have the desire to take my time, but by no means do I want to push him completely away.
No. I want him to fear me, but I also need me. To crave my rough touches and cruel commands. To want to please me and, at the same time, hate himself for it. I leave him alone in the cold white room which only holds a bed and a green chair. I spent many days in that chair, staring at him while he screamed and whined in his sleep. His body convulsed and shook from the nightmares and it was beautiful.
Soon, they will be all he has. Not only when he's asleep, but also when he's awake. I dig in the back of the cabinet for a can of beans and a can of old dog food. I mix them together in a blender. The loud grinding has my insides twisting, bringing me back to a day I wish to forget. The one that turned me from a lost, helpless boy to a man worth fearing. As much as I hate the jarring sound, it's something I need to become accustomed to when making my pet's food.
The blades continue moving together making my skin crawl. I try hard to block out the memories of the knife cutting through my bone. My toes curl up in my shoes and the empty space where one of my toes use to be takes me back to that moment many years ago when two men had held me down. Santiago's father had smiled down at my bare feet with a set of knives in his hands. Later he had come back with something blended, forcing me to drink it. I shudder, remembering the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. The memory fades to black when there's a voice behind me.
“Boss, we did as you asked, and everything seems to be growing the way it should. Looks like the crop is only a few days away from being ready.”
