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As if I’ve been punched in the gut, I feel like I can’t breathe at the thought of the possibility that he won’t live through this. Quickly, I search for him in the monitors, going from screen to screen.
“Where are you, dammit?!”
Suddenly, I spot Montero as he moves in a low crouch toward the stables, his gun at the ready. In fact, I recognize many of the men. But Santos is still nowhere to be seen. If he’s alive, surely I’d be able to find him somewhere!
I wipe my face and realize I’m crying. Taking several steps back until the backs of my legs hit the bed, I allow myself to drop to the floor. From here, I watch in helpless horror as everyone but the man I’ve wanted to kill myself many times passes by a camera. I watch until the battle ends, with what’s left of the attackers retreating. Then I watch as the Diablos begin the cleanup process, checking bodies, assisting those who are alive.
A sob bursts from me and I drop my face into my hands as terror grips me to think I may never see him again. That I may never regain our memories and we’ll never be able to make new ones.
“Santos,” I whisper. “Don’t leave me again.”
But as more time passes without his coming for me, the fear that he truly has abandoned me once again grips my chest tightly.
Out of all the things I remember, the memory of the one night I wish to forget slams into me, and I’m flung into the pain that left me scarred beyond repair.
