Page 25 of Blood Spilled
He sighs deeply. “Because maybe that's what you needed all along. For someone to care.”
He swipes a lock of hair from my wet face. “There are two different types of monsters, Santiago. The ones that are made and the ones that are born that way. You know what the difference is between the two?”
I shake my head.
“What's learned can be unlearned over time, but if it was already built inside you, like your father, there is nothing to go back to. He has always been a monster and never knew how to be anything else. You weren't always this way, and you don't have to be anymore.”
“What makes you think you know who the hell I am? All you've done this whole time is call me a liar.”
Angel releases a heavy sigh and brushes a few tears away. “I know a lot more than you think, little mouse. Knowing things is part of my job and I know what it’s like to have to do things you hate in order to survive. We keep doing it all because we have to. Soon it overtakes us and we no longer recognize ourselves.”
I grit my teeth. Knowing things used to be part of my job also. With all the information I acquired, I could easily bring downmost people, tearing their lives apart in a blink of an eye. What good did any of that do for me now? He thinks we are the same and at first, I disagree, but maybe he’s been just as lost as me this whole time.
He grew up without parents and I grew up with ones that never truly loved me. I pull away from his arms and this time he lets me. “It's too late. You said it yourself, I am who I am and people like me deserve to rot in a hole underground. I'm tired, I want to go to bed now please, Master.” I release a yawn and my eyelids flutter with my eyes nearly rolling in the back of my head. I fall backward, crashing against the hard floor and everything goes black.
I open my eyes again, and I'm in a room I don't recognize in an actual bed. The back of my head throbs and my back aches. I rub the thick material of the comforter between my fingers. The texture feels foreign to me now. It no longer feels right against my skin. The mattress beneath me is too soft. When I move my hands to rub the back of my neck, I realize I'm not attached to any chains or rope.
I toss the blankets off me and lift up my ankles. Nothing weighs them down. I'm wearing gray sweats and a white undershirt. The metal cuff is gone. It has to be a trick. I stare into a nearby closet mirror, almost jumping at my reflection. I’m thinner with sunken eyes and a pale complexion. My bruises on my neck are already fading which tells me I must have been sleeping for more than a day. How long have I been in this room and in this bed?
When I stare straight ahead my breath quickens at the sight of the open door. I swallow hard and my throat is so dry, it's painful. I stand from the bed on shaky legs and almost crash to the ground with my first attempt at walking. I catch myself on a nearby dresser, shifting all my weight on the oak furniture. My frail, thin body lands so hard, I almost think I'll snap in half.I inhale a sharp breath, slowly releasing as I stand up again. Taking in my surroundings, I notice pictures on the wall. They have people smiling and laughing with their arms around each other or shoulders touching.
They appear the way a family should. Nothing like my own family. Hearing my mom was still alive should have made me happy, but it doesn't.
There is no relief at that revelation. She’d always looked the other way when my father punished me. After I found Andy's body scattered in pieces in the shed we used to sneak off to, I nearly lost it, along with myself. I went mad, throwing things and going into his office with a gun, pointing it at his head. I was too much of a coward to pull the trigger and he laughed at me as I stood there with shaky hands. I got whacked in the head from behind and woke up hours later in my bedroom, where I spent the next three months.
I shake my head from the memories and try to focus on what’s in front of me. I walk with slower steps toward the open door. I notice my shoes in the hallway by an end table that holds my gun.
This can't be right, perhaps I'm still dreaming. I slip on the shoes and grab the gun checking to see if it is loaded and when I see that it is, I'm prepared to wake up at any moment. I close my eyes and when they open again, I'm still holding the gun in my hands. My freedom is only feet away. The house is quiet and empty. I glance over the railing and there it is, the front door—the answer to my freedom.
I hurry down the empty hallway, turning my head every which way. Expecting something to stop me. I'm almost down the stairs and there are no darts being shot into my neck. No one grabs me and no traps clasp around my ankle. I keep running until I reach the front door. I unlatch the locks and pull the door open.
Tears stream down my face when the cool air hits my cheeks. I shield my eyes from the bright light of the sun. I stop at the threshold, unable to move any further. The only thing holding me back is myself.
Freedom is just on the other side of this door, but it's no longer appealing to me. I was never really free before either, a fact my father reminded me of everyday. I close my eyes and drag my feet past the door frame. Once I step onto the porch, I find myself running across it and down the stairs, heading through the trees. I run faster, stepping on random rocks and sticks buried under the grass. The sun is warm on my skin and it burns my eyes.
I stop when I hear screams and gunshots from behind me. I can't stop myself from looking back. The screams come again, and I recognize the owner, Angel. Without another thought I am turning around, running toward the only voice I've come to know this past month, or however long it’s been, the only one I craved to hear.
I run faster, knowing I’m probably heading straight into another trap, but no longer caring. Reaching the backyard, I don't see anything but fields of crops surrounding it. There's a red, large barn and the loud noise coming from it. I run toward the building, not knowing what to expect when I reach it. The door is cracked open and in between the space there’s a man holding a knife against Angel's throat.
My fingers tighten around my gun; I’ve missed the weight in my hands. I lift it towards the man whispering things into Angel's ear as he continues to struggle. I pull the trigger, gut clenched with fear that I’m too late. The bullet slams into the man and he staggers back, face etched in shock as he glances over at me. His body hits the ground with a thud, taking Angel along with him. It’s not immediately clear whether he slicedAngel or not. I wait with bated breath, heart beating wildly in my chest for a man I shouldn’t care about.
Angel struggles to his feet, pushing the dead weight off him, easing the cramp in my gut. He grabs the man's gun and knife, then stares my way, his brown eyes studying mine. He lowers the gun and I lower mine after we are both suddenly caught in a moment. “Who the hell was that guy?”
I shake my head. “I’ve never seen him before in my life and that’s the honest truth, I wouldn’t save your life to lie to you.”
“Why did you? Why not leave when you had the chance?”
Loud crackles pull my eyes away from him and I notice one of the fields is on fire. I take a step back, glancing around me. It's not the only one filling the air with smoke. Suddenly feeling weak, I fall forward. Before I can hit the ground, strong arms wrap around me and there are soft whispers in my ear. “It's okay, little mouse. It's all okay now.”
Twenty
Angel
I pull him further into my arms, struggling to care about anything else. All my focus should go toward my hard work burning around me. This would be the second time I've lost money on crops because of this man. Only right now it’s hard to see anything except him—except us.
I still don't know why, but my body begs to find out. After a constant back and forth battle with my own mind, I finally let the part that wants him win. He saved my life. Instead of taking his one chance at leaving, he stayed for me.
I shout for my guys and notice Diego running from the front of the house in panic, reaching for his phone. Another one of my guys comes out from the nearby trees with a water hose in his hand with it turned on the highest power setting. “We need to get this fire out,” I yell his way. “Have Simon check for any trespassers.”
