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“That's it,pequeño. I need you to understand what you did wrong.” I sit back down on the couch, crossing my legs. He hasn't been holding himself up for long and is already trembling.
He opens his mouth and closes it again, wiggling himself closer to the wall until his nose is buried into the plaster. His arms lift above his head and he isn't wearing his prosthetic. He's all him today, not once worrying about his appearance. If only he didn't feel he had to hide this part of himself so much. Without being self-conscious, he places his post amputated hand on top of his other arm, and I smile at how safe he feels with me.
Because he is and always will be. No matter how hard I might be on him at times, it's only ever for his own good. He runs around in circles constantly and I do my best to help point him in the right direction.
“Do you know why you're being punished?”
“No,” he says, sounding fully convincing. He's good at making people believe what he wants them to. He forgets that I'm the one person who can see straight through all the bullshit.
“I'll ask you again after your punishment ends. I bet you'll be able to tell me then.”
Draping the blanket over my lap, I turn onBuffy the Vampire Slayer. The show, not the movie. A small laugh comes from him as the theme song plays.
“I'll add to your time for every sound that comes from you,” I say, increasing the volume. Doesn't matter how loud it is, I swear I can still hear his eyes rolling in the back of his head. It's going to be a long hour—more for him than for me.
I swing my feet up to rest on the coffee table, knocking off a few crossword puzzle books. My wife and I used to do them together whenever she became bed bound. It was a great way to help occupy her mind. I continued to do them after she was gone and accidentally made it a thing between Enrico and me whenever he had short hospital stays.
During one of his hospital visits, not fully thinking it through, I pulled a pocket-sized one from my jacket and set it on his lap when he couldn't stop glancing up and counting ceiling tiles. It was to distract him from everything he was going through and keep him from going stir crazy.
Enrico releases a few drawn out breaths. His legs are shaking and his hand grips onto his other arm tighter from the bottom. It's only been fifteen minutes. He’s good at hiding his pain and discomfort from everyone but me. I see right through him, and not only when he wants me to but also when he doesn’t.
Loudly tapping my wrist, I remind him of the remainder of his time, along with what happens when he sets his arms down or breaks form. He shakes a few times and rocks back and forth but always stays in position the best he can, never moving his nose from the wall. Sweat drips down his back during the last few minutes and trails down his spine. I yank my eyes away before it can reach the cleft of his ass. Sucking in a sharp breath, I glance at the clock on the wall, not exhaling until the small hand lands on the seven.
Turning off the TV, I slowly stand up and walk toward the wobbly, panting man. When I get close to him, I trail my fingers down his side. His breaths are shallow and his back muscles tense.
Grinning, I bend my body low enough to blow warm air along his neck. A small sound crawls up his throat before my lips can reach his ear. “That's long enough.”
He crumples to the floor, his arms flailing beside him. Tears spring from his eyes as he rests his cheek on the wall. I pull him up from the floor and guide him to the couch. “There, there. You did it. It's over.”
I pull him down on the cushions with me, dragging him into my lap, his legs hanging over the side of mine. Cupping the back of his neck, I bring his head to my shoulder and he presses his nose into my neck. I stroke his back, whispering one of his favorite poems into his ear. I've heard him scream it out more than once before ending a man's life, the way a religious person would ask God for forgiveness before committing a large sin.
As I continue to rub my fingers along his tense muscles, his breathing evens out and the trembling eases up. A few minutes later, he opens his eyes and lifts his head from my shoulder, glancing around the room before his tired eyes focus on me. “Why'd you do that?”
Sighing softly, I wipe a tear from his cheek. “You know why.”
Shaking his head, he pushes himself off my lap and lands roughly beside me. “It was cruel.”
“It was what you needed. Now tell me why. We can't leave this house until you do.”
Chewing on his bottom lip, he drags a small blue throw pillow into his lap. “Because I was bad.”
Lifting my hand, I spread my fingers his way to gesture for him to go on.
His eyes go from mine to his lap. He fidgets a few more times before puffing out a long breath. Opening his mouth, he pauses and closes it again. He does this a few times before finally speaking. “I went against your rules.”
“Bueno. Go take a shower and get your clothes on. We have a long day ahead of us.”
Today would be longer than usual. One of our trusted drug mules OD'd yesterday while on the way to deliver an order to a very important client. They took too long to get her to the airport and some of the drugs dissolved inside her after the rubber holding it together busted. We can't have it happen again. One time is unacceptable. The second time is not an option. The man wrapping the drugs was part of the problem but so was the driver.
I'll be making the next delivery myself with a new volunteer who hasn't had much time for training. He owes us a favor and is one of the few on the list who doesn't mind the risk. He does this one job and he's free of his debts and so is his family.
Enrico scurries off the couch, his legs not fully stable. When I quickly shoot to my feet to help him, he shakes his head, holding his hand out. “Don't. I can make it there just fine on my own.”
Nodding, I wait until he’s in the bathroom before rushing to my room to grab some clean clothes. I still don't know where he put my other ones and don't have time to worry about it. The bathroom is filled with steam as I open the door. To my surprise, he didn't lock it. Enrico mumbles something to himself while I wash up in the sink. By the time I'm done brushing my teeth and hair, he’s shutting the water off.
“Since you're out there hovering on the other side of the curtain like some damn pervert, you mind handing me a towel?”
Glowering, I open the cabinet above the toilet and retrieve a towel. He opens the curtain enough for me to squeeze it through and snatches it from my hand.
