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“You can hide and withhold all the information you want, El Oscuro, but I won’t give up on finding the truth. Especially if my life depends on it.” I walk past him and into the dark hallway before me, turning around to murmur my last words before I leave him standing in the doorway.
“I won’t be kept in the dark anymore, not after all I’ve been through, not after knowing how I came to be in this world.”
* * *
As I near my bedroom, I stop and stare at my mother’s open door. Walking up to it so that I can close it for her, I hear her soft sobs echoing from the bed. I whisper into the room, only loud enough for her to hear.
“We’re going to get out of this, Mom. You and I. And then we’re going to move on.” I shut the door quietly and walk into my bedroom. After shrugging off my plush robe and letting it fall to the floor, I climb into bed and lay on top of the thick duvet, my mind racing a mile a minute.
I replay every minute of today's events in my head, surprised that a single tear doesn’t rush to the surface. I am officially numb except for burning curiosity and lingering desire. I think of every time that I’ve found my mother passed out on the floor, every time she looked at me in hatred, every time she shoved down her own nightmare to face me continuously. I know I am not at fault, but I am a reminder. A daily reliving of a horror film to her.
I think of her secret and even Dante’s secret. His private vengeance that has somehow seeped into my entire existence. I think of his silence and his anger, of his lust and his denial. I think of the way that he looked at me in disgust, the rejection I should feel being replaced by hatred. Hatred for the desire he stirs in me, for how good it felt for him to kiss me like he did.
I think of the way he gripped my arms, the way he attacked my mouth like I was a meal he starved for his whole life. I think of the way his eyes looked when he stared at my breasts, the way they traveled and landed on my lips. Chest heaving with both lust and restraint.
I close my eyes and memorize every line around his small, amber eyes. Memorize the way his hair curls slightly at the ends, the way it looks wild and disheveled after he runs his hands through it with frustration. I memorize the feel of his unshaven beard against the soft skin of my cheeks, the way his whiskers scratch and rub at the tender flesh. I think of the way the cold metal of his gun felt pressed against my jaw and rubbed my hand down my throat while the other pressed down on the lower half of my stomach.
I feel a desire pooling thick in my womb as the memory of him burns bright in my mind's eye. I dip my fingers into my sleep shorts and stroke my wet and heated flesh, moaning his name as I near a quick release. When I come down off my high, the desire for him is still present, but my hatred for him burns brighter.
He’s kept me away from the true knowledge of my life. He’s watched me grow from the sidelines and did nothing to stop the turmoil that both my mother and I went through. He watched a victim raise a child in one of the poorest parts of America and only showed his face by kidnapping us and holding us hostage. All the while still denying me my right to know about my sperm donor, about the monster that made me. Maybe that’s why I don’t feel sick about wanting him. Only a monster could love a monster. If I came from the body of an abuser and a murderer, then I must have some sickness in me too.
I walk to the bathroom and wash my hands off. Brushing my teeth before making my way back to the bed, I yank the covers off and slip underneath them. The room is dark now, but I notice a small strip of light stretching out of my doorway. I look up and am met with dark, amber eyes staring at me like an animal in the night. Dante has been watching me silently from my door and instead of feeling embarrassed or angry, I turn over and face the windows, ignoring him until I hear the small click of my door closing and my eyes shut away the night.
11
Esmeralda
I'min the kitchen cooking eggs while Javier busies himself with frying bacon. He told me it's fresh and I didn't want to ask how fresh it was, fearing I wouldn't want to eat the pig I just learned was slaughtered to feed me.
"I meant the eggs. The eggs are fresh, Emmie." Javier laughs at me and I blush in stupidity. I tossed and turned all night last night, barely even sleeping. My eyes were bloodshot and puffy this morning. I had to pile on concealer to tone them down.
Once breakfast is cooked, Javier runs and sets everything up in the dining hall. I stay behind and wash dishes, refusing to even be in the same room as Dante right now. If he wants to be an arrogant dick that treats me like a little woman he can just kiss and berate, then I’ll pass on that. I made it abundantly clear last night that I’ll go to my own lengths to sort my life out.
I’m munching on a piece of bacon and wiping the countertop down when Javier comes back in and looks at me wearily. I raise an eyebrow in question, and he speaks quietly.
“Dante wants you to eat with him at the table.” I bark out a laugh and realize that Javier is hiding a smirk as well.
God bless this man.
“You can tellMasterthat I’m not hungry and have cleaning to do.” I practically shout this so that Dante can hear it from the dining room. I hear the screech of his chair as I finish wiping down the counter, ignoring his presence as he enters the kitchen.
“It was an order, Esmeralda. Not a request.” I start loading the dishwasher, not saying a word or even sparing a glance. I feel his anger heat the room and watch Javier rush outside with a basket in hand to gather more herbs.
Pussy.
Dante approaches behind me, but I keep my focus on the cleaning task before me. My stubborn attitude is hard to crack today. He’ll have to beat it out of me and even then I’ll still pitch a fit.
“Now, Esmeralda. I don’t have time for your childish antics today.”
I slam a dish in the sink, the plate cracking in half and clanging against the drain. I spin around and jab a finger to his chest, his eyes widening in amusement. He gets off on this, my anger, and it makes me want to hurt him even more.
“I’m not a fucking child! I’ll be a twenty-one year old woman in a few days and a college graduate in four months. Most importantly, I’m a full-fledged adult capable of making her own decisions without being bossed around by a sinistergangster.” He bites back a smile from my outburst, regaining his usual cynical composure.
“I am many things, pequeña, butgangsteris not one of them.” His voice is low and causes my hairs to raise and my stomach to flutter. I brush past him in frustration and walk out of the kitchen, rounding the corner on my way to the stairs that lead to my bedroom. He’s hot on my tracks and grips my wrist, pulling me back roughly to meet his hard chest. If I wasn’t so pissed at him, I might melt into his form, but he obviously hates it when I’m close to him like that, so I resist.
“You can stomp around and throw fits like a stubborn child all you want, but yes, you are a grown woman. So act like it. And don’t act for one second like you’re capable of navigating this dark world you’ve found yourself in. It’s a quick way to get yourself killed and not by my hands.” His voice is dark, and I yank my wrist back, rubbing the reddened skin.
“Go check on your mother and meet me in my office when you’re done. And remember, that’s not a request.” He hisses the last words and me and stalks back towards the kitchen. I call out after him.
