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Muriella was sitting on a barstool in the kitchen when I entered the apartment after getting some fresh air on the rooftop. She was alone, and the way she spoke my name had me wanting to breeze past and make some excuses about being tired. But I hadn't come to New York to avoid my sister. Good or bad, I was here to spend time with her. I crossed the room and bent to kiss her forehead. In just a few days, I'd learned she was okay with my affections, which was a relief. In actuality, she did well with the people she was comfortable with, able to hug and touch them in ways I'd have never expected. Her strength and resilience were incredible.
“You want to talk,” I said. I did too. I didn’t want her thinking she had invited a crazy person to her house.
“And you're willing?” she asked.
“Yes.” Casually, I leaned against the edge of the stone counter and schooled my expression into one of openness.
“This was a lot easier than I expected.” She eyed me suspiciously, and I shrugged.
“The way I see it, we can get it over with now, or you'll badger it out of me. Either way, you win.” I smiled to soften the sting of my words. They weren't meant to cut. She would win because I'd do anything to make her happy, even at the expense of my own happiness.
“Come with me,” Muriella said, offering her hand after she jumped off the stool. She positioned me in front of the mirror hanging above a deep walnut console table just inside the front door. I avoided looking in it.
She turned my face toward the reflecting glass. I tensed, looking away.
“Muriella . . .” I said warily, trying to shake loose of her grip on my cheeks.
“Look in the mirror, Carlos,” she commanded. “I'm right here with you.”
I peeled my lids open, automatically looking at her instead of my reflection. I knew it was me in the mirror. But every time I looked, I sawhim.
“You are not him. You are a man of honor.”
“How can you say that?Honor?” I asked incredulously. “You have no idea about the things I've done.”
“I don't, but I know what you've done for me, and that's all that matters. You freed us. He's dead. We are both safe because of you.”
“Then why is he haunting me?” I begged her to give me answers I wasn't sure existed.
“Because he was a demon, but if we try hard enough, we can change that,” she insisted. “I still struggle. I can't sleep with the lights off, but every day I get closer to being completely out from under him. Knowing he's dead is a tremendous burden lifted from my soul. I only wished I'd done it so you didn't have to live with killing him.”
“I've been waiting years to do it. I did it for you, but I also did it for the greater good. It wasn't just our lives he destroyed, though you bore the worst of it. But killing him? I'd do it again every day for the rest of my life if I had the chance. I have zero regrets about that.”
She stepped in front of me, taking my face in her hands. “See what I see.”
I stared at my reflection, finally looking that man in the eyes after years of avoiding it. The pain in them was palpable, as if anyone looking into them could feel the weight of what the man was carrying.
“He killed for sport. He raped because he could. He manipulated because he wanted power. The only time I ever saw regret was when the box came with Mama in it.” She flinched in pain. We'd both been there when it arrived. Nausea swamped me. I'd seen plenty of chopped up bodies since then, and it hadn't fazed me, but seeing my mother in pieces was still as vivid as the day it had happened. I’d vomited then, and I felt it rising up my throat now.
“You carry so much guilt. Everything you've done has left a mark on your soul. You've always had a tender heart.” Her palm flattened on my chest. “I love you, and it's time you stop beating yourself up over things that weren't your fault.”
“What about the things that are?”
Her lip quivered, and her eyes glistened. “You did what you had to do, and I know it was all for me, no matter what you say about the greater good. Let me bear the responsibility.”
“No,” I said, clutching her arms. “You are innocent of everything. Do you hear me?” She nodded, though there was lingering guilt behind her eyes. I refused to let my sister suffer anymore. “Does it hurt you for me to be here?” I held my breath, everything in my world hinging on the answer to the question.
“It would hurt far worse if you weren't here.”
“Thank you for last night. For understanding.”
“If anyone knows what it's like to have him torment every thought, every second, it's me. Even after all these years, he's always there, no matter how I try to get rid of him. But it's getting better. I can go for hours now without thinking about what a horror he was. On my honeymoon, I went an entire day without giving him one minute of my attention. Stone has helped me so much more than he realizes. I thought I couldn't ever love a man, that our father had stolen that from me, but I was wrong. Loving Stone fixes parts of me I swore were permanently damaged. Now that you're here, we can help each other heal.”
My eyes stung as I tried to keep myself composed. “You have the strength of a thousand warriors.”
“So do you. We can’t let him lead our minds to destruction because that’s what he wants. Don’t you see? And we can’t give him that, right, el hermano?”
Our eyes met in the mirror. I placed my hands on her shoulders and dared to look into the depths that plagued me. It was difficult not to look away, but I faced him, and this time, I saw myself and something I hadn’t dared wish for before:hope.
