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And now, there was no forgetting them.
“You weren’t like him,” Marcus heard himself mutter unevenly. “You started out good—-”
“Basta!”Her hand slammed against the wheel, and Marcus was ashamed to feel his body jerk at the sound of her car honking.
Dio.
It really was as if he was an eight-year-old boy again, and he so badly wanted to throw up, purge everything out of his system in hopes of getting rid of the stain in his soul.
“What do you want me to say?” his mother demanded coldly. “That he held me at gunpoint? That he threatened me and that’s why I allowed that night to happen?”
Yes, Marcus thought, and his stomach turned upside down at the realization that itwasindeed what he wanted to hear. He was so goddamn weak he wanted her to lie because anything was better than-—
“Do you want to know the truth?” his mother hissed.
No.He didn’t want to. Not when she was looking at him like no other woman should be looking at her son.
“I let him do it,” Raquel cooed, “because I’m dirty. I allowed it because Federico was right about me—-”
“You let himberight,” Marcus snarled.
Raquel let out a humorless laugh. “No, tesoro.Stop fooling yourself.” She reached to pat his cheek, and Marcus couldn’t help flinching, the prospect of his mother’s touch somehow abhorrent and terrifying—-
––––––––
SOMETHING FLICKEREDin his mother’s eyes just before a look of cruel satisfaction fell over her face. “Oh,tesoro,don’t say you find my touch repugnant?” She tried cupping his face and laughed when he couldn’t help rearing back. “What a little hypocrite you are. I seem to recall how you masturbated at the sight of my—-”
Marcus blanched.“Shut up.”
“Does hearing the truth hurt?” Raquel taunted. “You should just accept it like I did,tesoro.Federico was right about you, too.You’re exactly like him—-”
The words slashed at Marcus’ memory.
Don’t you see you’re exactly like me?
Marcus shook his head. “No.” He reached for the door handle, saying tightly, “You’re wrong about me—-”
His mother’s gaze bored through him. “And yetthathappened.”
He didn’t say a word.
“How can I be wrong when you actuallycame,watching your own parents fuck—-”
Marcus’ hand was up before he realized what he was doing, but then his mother stiffened, fear flashing in her eyes—-
Dio.
He had almost struck his own mother, and for what?
For saying what could only be the shameful, undeniable truth about himself?
****
HE TRIED TO KEEP ITtogether, but it was no use. On the night before his father’s burial, he went out on a run to keep the nightmares at bay.
And he found himself unable to stop.
His heart hammered in a furious, erratic rhythm that far surpassed the heavy pounding of his footsteps on the dirt road, but Marcus knew it wasn’t exhaustion making him struggle to breathe.
