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Roberto wasn’t my father, and my mother was a broken drug addict.
I was just fourteen when he left my mother’s room, bending to look me in the eye and tell me I needed to make him proud. I nodded and promised him with all my youthful ignorance that I wouldn’t let him down before watching him drive away as I always did when he’d leave on business. He didn’t come back for some odd weeks. Once he was out of sight, I went to check on my mother, but when I walked into her bedroom, I found her on the floor crying as she pushed a needle into her arm.
Fear like I’d never felt before, pressed down on me as I watched her.
“¿Qué estas haciendo mamá?”What are you doing, mom?
I had never seen my mother so sad. Sure, she walked around most days looking more heartbroken than happy, but that day seemed to have broken something inside her, and it’s never been fixed since.
I never knew what caused her to flip the switch - what Roberto said or did that made her want to leave me so cruelly - but I watched helplessly as she pressed down on the plunger, sending clear liquid into her veins. It was a lot, but I thought maybe she wasn’t feeling well and needed medicine.
Seconds after she finished, she looked up at me with her pupils so dilated you couldn’t see any of the gray stone color we share.
“Él no es tu padre. Vengarme hijo.”He’s not your father. Avenge me, son.
Those were the last words she spoke before her body began to violently convulse. I ran from the room and called my grandfather who lived in the west wing of our home.
Time seemed to fast forward after that, just blurred images of doctors coming and going. My mother was revived during the chaos, but only a piece of her was ever truly there. She was broken beyond repair, but it was her words that killed me and birthed the person I am today.
My mother used drugs to keep herself numb to life, to her pain, and eventually to end it all, but I use them to remember. To feel the lashes I’ve been given, to fuel me and give me a sense of control. The thing about drugs, at least for me, is they have their uses so long as you do them instead of letting them do you.
I pour myself another glass without the added cocaine. I dip a part of a cloth napkin into the cup and use the tequila to wipe off any remaining blood on my face before turning to face Roberto.
“I assume you have signed up for each of her classes as well?”
I run my tongue across the swelling of my lip before answering, “You assume incorrectly. I’ll be taking the classes her pet takes.”
“Noah?” Roberto asks like he doesn’t know who I’m talking about. It honestly pisses me off that he has an odd as fuck soft spot for the guy, but I’m curious to know why.
“Yes. After all, she’ll do anything if Noah is at stake. May as well get closer to him than her.”
Roberto’s eyes darken as he remembers exactly how well I know his precious daughter will bend to my will.
“Yes, well, see to it that you don’t fail, Rey. I didn’t bestow you King Skull for no reason.”
He waves his hand in dismissal before looking back down at his desk. I turn and catch the silent Cain Del Toro leering at me like the sick fuck he is. I shoot my drink back before placing the glass down carefully, my eyes never leaving Mateo’s father.
If he were smart, he’d know the danger he’s in.
Quicker than he’s prepared for, I lunge for him, my pocketknife already out with the sharp tip pressed against his lower eye socket.
“Keep giving meojo, and it’ll be your eyes cut out next. Tú no eres nada para mí, hijo de tu perra puta madre.”You’re nothing to me, son of a dirty whore.
He curls his lip, but he can’t hide the fear in his eyes. I chuckle and shove off him, giving him a quick slap as I step back.
Roberto grins at me with pride, a look that would have made me proud a long time ago. Now though? Fuck that.
I give him a look of disgust before walking out.
THIRTY-THREE
* * *
‘THE LIFE WE LIVE’ PROJECT PAT
Syllabus day isa real snooze fest. I bite back the millionth yawn and force my mind to focus on the droning voice of the professor. I bet Val’s class is much more interesting than this. I decided to major in music, but I still need to have a plan B so I’m taking business as well. I’m rethinking it now that I’m fighting to stay awake in this fucking lecture. I look around at the other students, noticing some are doodling or fucking off on their laptops.
These silver spoon kids can afford to screw off, mommy and daddy will just pay for their way through life. I on the other hand have no one to fall back on, not that I’d do that anyway, it's not in my nature to depend on anyone but myself.
