Page 22 of Blood Spilled
I tilt my head back laughing, the deep loudness of it startles him. I kneel down in front of him and tug at his hair, yanking his head back. “Stop trying to play me for a fool and tell me what you did with my father. I know you kept him alive somewhere you sack of shit.”
The veins bulge in his throat, the scars on his neck more prominent when he swallows hard. “Please. I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Sure you do. I saw the videos.”
Santiago attempts to shake his head, but my grasp is too tight. “What videos? I have no idea what videos you’re talking about. I've never met your father, I swear.”
I toss him so hard, he lands on the ground, flat on his face. His tears pour into the floor. “I really … please … Master.”
I chuckle, kicking his hand away when it reaches for my boot. “It's a little late for that. Maybe you should have told me the truth from the beginning.”
“I did … I have no reason to lie.”
“Maybe we should give you some more time to think about it, huh? Get in the cage.”
His eyes widen with horror. He’d rarely crawled out of it anyway so I didn't understand why it mattered. “Please, I'll do anything you want.”
“What I want is for you stop telling me lies and to get inside the fucking cage.”
He crawls slowly inside. Once his foot is past the door, I slam it shut and lock it. “Maybe being alone for a few days will help put you more in the confessing mood.”
“What if I have to use the restroom?”
“I suggest you earn it. One truth for a trip to the bathroom.”
“I've told you nothing but the truth.”
“That lie just earned you a night without food.”
I turn around and leave the room without looking back. He won't win me over this time with those deceitful eyes of his. I'll have him spew the truth soon enough and once I get it out of him, I'll consider letting the dogs he threatened to feed us to at the wedding rip him the fuck apart. Then I’ll send the video to his mother since his family seemed so keen on recording things.
Seventeen
Santiago
It feels like it's been days, maybe it has. It could have been a whole week for all I know. I no longer have a sense for time. I didn't want to think about the stench of the room. I've had to pee outside the cage more than a few times, soaking the wooden floor outside it. I think about Angel's angry eyes and knots form in the pit of my stomach.
When he’d left my room, he didn't take the letters or flash drives with him. It didn't matter how many times I swore they weren't mine, he still didn't believe me. Someone knew for certain I wasn't dead. Whoever had access to my car recently, planted that shit in there. But why now? Why would this all matter when my father and Mateo's mother are both dead? Even dead, my father still ruled my life. I was being haunted by a ghost and taking his blame.
I needed to remain calm. I can't lose more of myself than I already have. It's funny he thinks I'm the way I am from beingloved too much. The only love I've ever been shown was by two people who were taken from me long ago. Before Andy came along to show me what caring for another person meant, there was Lupita, my nanny. She was more of a mother to me than my own.
For my tenth birthday, she said she wanted to make me something special, so she asked me to bring her things from my favorite places. Each day I brought her something different—bottle caps from my favorite diner, tickets from the fair, shells from the beach, and rocks from my favorite park. I didn't understand why she would have me bring her all these things until I pulled out a beautiful homemade wind chime from a white box.
It shimmered from the silver paint covering the things I’d brought. I pulled it out every time I had a bad day and could no longer see beauty in the world. I'd spin it around with my fingers as it hung in front of my bedroom window, shining in the sunlight, automatically giving me peace.
I remember begging her to show me how to make them, thinking it would make the perfect gift for Andy, so she did. It became our favorite pastime together until one day Lupita didn’t show up to our workshop in the small red shed. When I searched the whole house for her, my mother sat me on the sofa and told me she was gone and wouldn't be coming back. That she was stealing from the family to help get her husband out of jail and my father sent her away when he found out. I knew better than that. She was dead.
That night I curled up in my bed with the wind chime, crying myself to sleep, holding onto the last part of Lupita I had left. Later I would add a promise ring Andy gave me to the wind chime, along with his necklace I found buried in the pieces of his corpse. The next day I covered most of the house in wind chimes. That was the first time my father put me in the wooden box.
I reach for the empty bottles, the empty plastic syringes, the flash drives, letters and extra pieces of string that had been hanging from the blankets. I tie everything together the best I can, creating my own beauty to hold onto while being surrounded by darkness. Once I get it the best I can, I tug more loose threads from the blankets and tie it to the top of the cage.
I tap it with my fingers and the plastic sound is better than the eerie silence I've been left with. Sitting in my favorite corner, I watch the homemade wind chime move in front of me, dozing off into a deep sleep. There's loud screaming and when I get up to move toward it, I'm no longer in a cage. Instead, I’m in a deep forest, running through the trees, moving toward the loud screeching sound.
A boy has his face buried in the corner of a porch of a random cabin. I move closer and his screams are replaced with loud sobs. I place my hand on his shoulder and when he turns his head, it falls off, rolling away. The rest of his body falls to pieces near my feet. The head rolls back my way and it's Andy's cold face; his eyes are missing. Nothing left but dark empty sockets. I take a few steps back and his lips move. “You did this to me. It was you, not your father.”
My eyes shoot open and Andy is nowhere in sight. I'm back in the cage in the cold room and the only person staring at me is Angel. “Admit it and maybe I'll let you get yourself cleaned up.” He scrunches his nose in disgust. “I should make you pay for the mess you created in here. It smells like a fucking sewer.”
He reaches into the cage, grabbing the wind chime. “What is this you made? Making things out of scraps?”
