Page 21 of Blood Spilled
He pulls a needle from the kit, along with some thread and he reaches in his back pocket, tugging out a lighter. He runs the flame over the needle before threading it. “This is going to hurt a bit.”
I laugh, not sure my body could endure any more pain than it already has. I flinch at the first touch of the needle, but after that I remain still as he closes up the wound. “Can I have that?” I point at the saline syringe. There wasn't a needle attached so I didn't think it would be a problem to ask.
He tilts his head in confusion. “For what?”
“A souvenir.”
He laughs. “Sure.” He pushes both syringes my way. “Knock yourself out.”
He finishes wrapping gauze around my stitches and I’m caught off guard when he presses a kiss to my wrist. My head is spinning from how close his lips were to my skin.
“The finishing touch. My mother used to say nothing could heal properly without it.”
How can I want to hurt someone so much, but at the same time miss the warmth of his hand when he pulls away from me?
Angel stands up with the kit in his hands. “Well, get some rest, little mouse. You'll need it. We aren't anywhere near being done.I know you know more than you say you do, and I plan to get every bit out of you. No matter what it takes.”
He bends down again to pick up the bottle of piss from earlier. “You didn't throw it at me this time. I call this progress.”
Sixteen
Angel
My thoughts were spiraling out of control after walking out of Santiago's room. All the information I’d found out today circles my mind like a merry go round. I'm not sure what is true and what isn't, but I do know one thing, he was right about the device being in his arm. I don’t know how true his story is though. It could all be some ploy. You would truly have to be a sick person to insert something like that inside your own son. I set the kit down on the kitchen counter, suddenly needing a drink.
I pull out a glass from the cabinet, unable to forget that sense of longing in Santiago's eyes when I pressed a kiss to his wrist. It made sense now as to why he barely flinched when I slapped him and why he just accepted his confinement in the cage so easily. He's had to do it before.
I was breaking an already broken man.
Even though I’ve seen all his scars, I wanted to ignore them, pretend they didn’t exist. I bare my own scars and didn’t want toassume he got his in a similar way. I didn’t want to give myself a reason to feel sorry for him. I shake my head from the thoughts running through my mind. What if this is all part of his game? What if that device was in his arm for another reason and he isn't really numb to the torture, and just a good actor? Men like Santiago were always good at getting what they wanted.
Maybe instead of being some pawn in his father's game, I was one in his. I’ve been played before and I won’t let it happen again. Many years ago, I trusted a man and I will regret that decision for the rest of my life. I still can’t forget the awful stench of that room. It reeked of sweat and mildew. When I tried to back out of the job, it was too late. Louie, my lover at the time, told me I could trust this guy, that he was a good client. The man was everything bad in this world, but I needed the money too bad to believe otherwise.
I'd always needed money back then and it was all thanks to the Morales family.
A voice comes from behind me and when I turn around Tony has something in his hand.
“We found something in Santiago's car when we were cleaning it out. We thought you'd want to see them. We found these letters and a few disk drives in his glove box.”
I take the small box from his hands and stare at the contents inside. “Thank you, Tony, that will be all.”
Tony walks back outside, closing the door behind him. I pull out the letters lying on top. There are four of them still in envelopes that have the seals broken. They all have Santiago's name on the front. The first letter I pull out is from Mateo’s mother to Santiago about their plans. The other three are also from Julia, regarding their plans to not only sabotage the Juventinos, but to also take down Santiago’s father. The last part of the plan is listed on the very bottom of the last letter I read,to pin it all on Jose, making sure everything points to him in the end.
All of this goes against everything Santiago has said to me, but it would make perfect sense judging by how much he claims to hate his father.
I hurry to my office and insert the disk drive into my laptop. I want to question the letters further, but my focus is taken away when my father appears on the screen on his knees, blindfolded in tattered clothes. I know it's him by the tattoo on his neck that carried mine and my brother's names on it.
Someone is constantly kicking him in the back and slamming their hand on the back of his head. A man wearing Santaigo's ring. That can't be right. Santiago is younger than I am and was only a child when my father died in the fire. This person in the video is clearly an adult ... that could only mean one thing.
This video happened way after my father had supposedly died. This video is recent, but how recent? There aren't any dates listed anywhere on the drive or the videos. There are more than one, all of this man torturing my father. I pound my fist against the wooden desk so hard, it cracks. He had lied to me. I almost let him fool me. I let him get inside my head and now I will get inside his in the worst way. Not only did he lie, but had my father locked away somewhere at some point. What if he still does? Is my father still alive?
I slam the computer shut and pull out the disk drive. I rush across the way, nearly breaking the door open. “You lying sack of shit.” I toss the disk drives in front of him, along with the letters. “You tried to play me, and this will be the last time I let you.”
He crawls from his corner, closing in on the pile of evidence that proves what a fucking liar he is. He balls up the paper in his fist. “What is this?”
“You tell me, they are all written to you. They were found in your car with your name on them. Who else would they belong to?”
He shakes his head, his words broken. “I–I've nev–er seen these letters before. These aren't mine. I have no idea what these are.” He picks up the flash drives.
