AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I turn the book over and wonder what she did to it. Drop it in water then trample it? At least it’s not one I loved. I read it years ago, and I have to agree with Camilla that it wasn’t as good as I’d hoped, but there isn’t anything else to read. So, I open it and immediately stop. Because I see what she’s done. Why the book looks so warped and actually feels heavier than it should. It’s a hardback but still.
She’s printed out a photo on plain paper, crudely cut it out and taped it into the book. She’s basically used my book as a photo album. What the hell?
I look at the first photo. It’s a house—well, a mansion—and I can see palm trees in the garden. Miami? Maybe their house in Miami. Santos said that’s where the Commander lived, right? In front, too small to see their faces, is a woman and a very young child at her side. He’s holding her hand. He’s maybe two. It’s too blurred and small for me to make out who it is, and Camilla didn’t provide a caption. Well, I guess she did in the highlights of certain words and letters. I set the book aside and get out of bed to cross to the small writing table against the far wall. From inside the single drawer, I take out a pencil and a pad of paper, which I carry back to the bed.
Settling on the bed, I write out the letters she highlighted in order.
Miami. Home. Mom and T.
The T must be Thiago.
I have no idea what she was doing or what her intention was, but I flip to the next page. This one is of three cats, but there are no highlights. Just a collection of hearts drawn around the cats forming a heart themselves. It’s something a child would do. I turn the page.
Some of them have random pictures but they do seem to follow some timeline because soon I see one labeledtwins. In this one Thiago is older, maybe seven or so. He’s standing at his mother’s side, again, and she’s holding both babies, one in each arm. He looks miserable, and I wonder if he ever smiled growing up.
I set the book aside for a minute because I recall that night on the catwalk. Recall his face as he was pushed. I hear his scream. He didn’t deserve what happened to him, but I am holding on to hope that he’s alive, that he somehow survived.
After a few more of these pages, I try to recall the part she said she liked. Page seventy something. As soon as I get to the one she referenced, I know it, and it makes my heartbeat pick up because there is Santos. He must be eighteen, and he’s miserable. He’s thinner than he is now, less muscular, and I can see the shadows under his eyes even in this grainy, poor-quality print. His shoulders are slumped, and his appearance overall is unkempt, but he is looking at the camera. It’s just that the look in his eyes is vacant, like the man is absent even though he’s standing right there. Beside him is a young Camilla. She’s holding onto one of Santos’s hands and beside her is her twin, Liam. Thiago stands on the other side of Santos. The only person smiling is Camilla.
I write out the highlighter letters.Santos the day he came into our little family.
It’s hard to look at the next few pages but the years progress quickly. Santos grows older, his expression fiercer. He loses the face of the mourning boy and becomes the man to be reckoned with—a man I’d cross to the other side of the street to avoid, especially when he and Thiago are pictured together.
There’s one caption beneath a photo of the two together that spells outbesties.In this one, horns have been drawn coming out of Thiago’s head and a sticker of a pistol has been added to Santos’s hand. It’s weird, and she’s weird, and this book makes me feel icky in a way. Is she trying to send some message or just being an asshole? I’m going to go with the latter.
I flip to one more page before I close it. This one is a clear image. A photograph. And I can feel the evil coming off the man pictured. I know without a doubt, without having to read the highlighted letters, that this is her father. This is the Commander.
The devil who stole Santos’s soul.
I close the book and get up to throw it into the fire because it’s disgusting. The fire hisses when I drop the book in as it displaces the log that’s still a little damp. The book lands on its spine and falls open to that page with the Commander smiling a wide, evil smile.
Something has me snatching the photo out just as the rest of the book catches fire. I don’t know what it is, but as I kneel on the floor and study it, it’s familiar in a way. He’s familiar. Is it Thiago I’m remembering? No, Thiago doesn’t look like him. He looks like his mother. It’s not his face exactly. It’s something else, something I can’t quite put my finger on.
A loud thud comes from downstairs, and I startle, my gaze snapping to the door. Someone mutters a curse and I wonder if it’s the second soldier or even Val. It’s pretty dark down there and cramped with furniture. I guess one of them walked into something.
Footsteps begin to come up the stairs, and I get to my feet, picking up that photo and setting it on the nightstand. I pull my sweater closer and count the footsteps. Thirteen to get to the second floor. A soft knock comes. Assuming it’s Val coming to check on me, I am about to walk over to open it, but he opens it from the outside. It squeaks on its hinges as the top of his head comes into view.
Except that’s not Val’s head. It’s not either of the soldiers either. Neither of them has blond hair.
A chill creeps along my spine making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. When he peers all the way around and our eyes meet, I realize what was familiar about the photo of the Commander. No, that’s not right. It’s not then. It’s when he walks inside and shoves one hand into his pocket and cocks his head in the opposite direction. It’s exactly how the Commander is standing in that photo. Otherwise, there’s no physical similarity. Until he smiles and that dimple forms on his cheek.
I glance at the photo and see it then, clear as day. How has Santos not noticed it? I blink and shift my gaze from the photo to Caius and feel the blood drain from my face, feel my mouth drop open and my throat go dry as I stare in shock at what’s been right before my eyes all along.
“Hope I didn’t wake you,” Caius says in a fake attempt to be quiet. “They’re out cold downstairs. Some guards, huh?”
“Wh… What are you doing here?” I ask, stepping in front of the nightstand and turning the photo upside down behind me.
He comes into the room, looks around it, nods. “Cute, I guess. Not my style, but cute. Didn’t think it was my brother’s style either but goes to show you never really know anyone.”
He’s drunk. I can hear it in his voice, see it in his movements. He turns to me, and I see how bloodshot his eyes are when he steps closer. It is almost morning. He hasn’t slept. Like me.
“You know what I wish, Madelena?” he asks, coming toward me. I have nowhere to go. I’m trapped by the bed and nightstand, and to flee I’d have to leap across the bed.
“What?” I ask, standing where I am, trying to appear normal.
“I wish,” he starts, coming close enough to push a finger into my belly. “I wish you’d never gotten pregnant. That’s what.”
I find myself pushing his hand away and setting mine over my stomach to protect the tiny being inside. Santos’s baby. My baby.
