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“He’s a child! He doesn’t understand what he did. He was only protecting me! They have to see that, Salvador. Make them see that!” Nic’s mother wails as she batters her fists against his father’s chest, tears streaming down her face. He takes it stoically, the pain in his eyes having nothing to do with the impact of her hits. He’s aged unnaturally fast from the moment that he gave the gun to Nic, the lines on his face deep and numerous.
“They do not see it that way, Amalia.Un hijo por un hijo.” Salvador speaks the words as if he’s repeating it for the thousandth time, yet they have still not sunken in.
“This war has gone on for long enough. They cannot have him! I will not allow it!” Amalia turns her back to Salvador, her long hair swinging in an arc behind her as she crosses her arms over her chest determinedly. Her eyes pass over the doorway that Nic hovers in under darkness, but do not pause.
“Mi Vida.” Salvador sounds so broken as he steps forward, brushing his hands over her shoulders, a choked sob tearing through her throat at the contact before she’s collapsing into his arms altogether. “I won’t let them have him. I won’t.Te lo juro.”
“This world has always been far too dangerous. I never wanted this,mi amor. I never wanted this.” She sobs as the man she loves holds her, pressing gentle kisses to her hair as they both slide to the floor as if they have no strength left between them.
“I know.Lo siento. Lo siento mucho. Nunca quise que esto sucediera.I’d take it all back if I could, I’d give up my seat. I’d do anything,”
Neither of them notice as Nic turns and walks into the darkness of the hall, tears streaming down his face, blaming himself for deciding to pull that trigger.
28
Time fast forwards and Nic is being awoken by banging. Doors are being slammed like battering rams are being taken to them, yet they do not give. Random bursts of lights follow the sounds of gunshots from every direction surrounding the large house. There’s the smell of smoke in the air, the heat suffocating, the sizzle and crackle obnoxious even through the rest of the noise.
“¡Nicolás!” His mother’s scream can be heard over it all, the piercing dread as obvious as the danger is close.
“¡Mamá!”He yells back for her, descending into a coughing fit as the smoke continues billowing through the room. He was hiding, not in his room, but in his father’s office. He doesn’t know why he chose the place, other than that’s the spot he felt like he became a man. Maybe he felt safest among the stately decor and strong imposing desk. The one he is currently scampering from under.
“Where are you? Come to me,hijo.” He follows her command, crawling across the floor to the hall, where he sees her running from room to room.
“Mamá, I’m over here!” When she finally spots him, like a soot-covered angel, she swoops in to pull him into her arms. She cradles him close, taking off down the large, ornate staircase through the smoke and heat of the spreading flames. Yells and cries of pain can be heard from every direction as she turns and runs towards the back of the house.
An explosion rocks the house at the moment, knocking her from her feet as plaster and glass rains down. She covers Nic to the best of her ability, but some debris still manages to sneak through her shielding and slices into his soft skin. He fights the urge to cry out from the pain. If she can be strong and brave, then so can he.
Once she’s able to right herself again, she starts rushing the way she was going, though this time a bright red splattering of footprints trail behind her. She bypasses the kitchen and rounds a corner towards a separate pantry, but is forced to a stop as three large men block her way.
“Where do you think you’re going,concha?” The biggest of the three grins as she starts trying to back pedal, but they quickly surround her, yelling insults and laughing as they tug on her nightgown. “The king has fallen. It’s time to take our prize–the queen. Get rid of the boy.”
“Over my dead body!” She spits at them, twisting as she lets out a growl of defiance.
“Don’t worry. That will come soon enough.” The same man smiles menacingly before snapping forward and jerking Nic from her arms. He throws his small form to the side, where he collides with the wall, knocking the air from his lungs completely.
There’s a stinging, cold sensation at the back of his head, and it takes him a moment to shake himself out of the dizziness that has blanketed his mind. When he does, he sees his mother doing her best to fight off her attackers. She twists and bucks, bites and scratches, but it does no good. She is outnumbered and outmatched.
Tears blurring his vision, he crawls his way past the group, who are too busy to notice him in the slightest, and he makes his way to the kitchen. Grabbing the largest knife he can find, he curses himself for leaving his gun in his room. He stumbles back to the hallway leading to the pantry. Trying not to notice the lack of his mother’s clothes, without hesitation he stabs the knife directly into the back of the closest guy with a savage little cry.
The man bellows out, dropping his hold on his mother’s arms, allowing her to fall to the ground and twist away from him. The other two men are startled and look up to see him scrambling to try and remove the offending object from his back by turning in a circle. He can’t reach it, but he does notice Nic standing frozen in place, and snaps his fist out, bashing him directly in the face.
The hit does nothing to help the dizziness Nic was already struggling to contain, it only adds to it as he is thrown to the ground by the force of the impact. The man moves forward, the promise of death glinting wildly in his eyes, and Nic curls into a fetal position to protect himself.
The man doesn’t see Nic’s mother taking advantage of his distraction and pulling the knife from his back to stab him over and over again. She doesn’t stop, even as the other two guys rain their own blows down on her from behind. She refuses to give even as they try to pull her off of him by her hair.
But when the cocking of a gun echoes throughout the room, she pauses, her gaze finding one of the two other men pointing the weapon at Nic. Her eyes find her son’s and they glisten with the tears threatening to fall.
“Run,guerrero pequeño.” She commands, her features leaving no room for arguments. Then she twists, rushing towards the man with the gun. A shot goes off, but she merely jerks and keeps going, stabbing the knife down over and over again.
Another shot. Then another.
But Nic doesn’t see what happens.
He’s already gone.
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