Sweet Collateral

And yet I know I won’t stay away from her, as clearly as I know the sun will rise tomorrow.

10

Anna

I sit on the edge of my bed, watching the morning light streaming through the windows. I glance at the bright yellow post-it note still stuck to the bedside table, reading over the words again.

Sleeping pills for you.

Rafael.

His writing is bold and elegant, big looping swirls of ink, not unlike the ink that covers his body. I’d woken up from yet another nightmare in the middle of the night and found the note, along with two little white tablets and a glass of water. After everything I said and did last night, he left me sleeping pills. He wants to help me. I press my fingers to my temples and rub small circles over them. I don’t understand this. I don’t understand him.

There’s a knock on the door, pulling me from my thoughts. The door opens, and Lucas comes inside.

“Hey, the boss said that from now on you have to come down to the kitchen for breakfast.” He shrugs skinny shoulders.

“Why?”

Another shrug. “Dunno.” He pulls a packet from the pocket of his hoody and takes something from it, popping it in his mouth. He notices my glance and pauses before offering it to me. “Want one?”

I peer at the collection of multi-colored candy. I haven’t had candy since I was a child. Taking one, I pop it in my mouth. A fruity sweetness bursts over my tongue, but it’s quickly chased by a vile sour taste. I spit the sweet back into my hand and Lucas starts laughing. “Probably should have warned you; they’re really sour.”

“Why would you eat that?”

He keeps laughing. “I like them. If you’re quick, you might get some bacon before the guys eat it all.”

I get up and go to the bathroom, throwing Lucas’ vile candy in the bin and washing my hands. I then follow him from the room, still limping, but the pain is lessening each day.

We enter the kitchen but I falter when I see a guy sitting at the breakfast bar. It’s the same guy who was with Rafael when they came to get me, the one who shot Psycho. I’ve seen him around the house—from a distance, not like this. Her slightly lifts his chin at me, though I can’t make out his face beneath the hood and ballcap.

“Ah, you’re here,” Maria smiles from the pan of frying food. “Carlos, this is Anna. Anna, Carlos works for Rafael.” The way she says, ‘works for Rafael’, it’s as if he’s a legitimate businessman with employees. He kills for Rafael, and Rafael runs drugs, guns, and women for business. I simply nod my head and follow Lucas farther into the kitchen. He’s the only one I really trust here. And maybe Maria.

I take the seat furthest away from the hooded man, and I catch him smiling over the coffee mug clutched in front of his face. It’s not a warm smile, more amusement that I clearly don’t want to be near him. He has a quiet yet ominous air about him. He watches me, and I watch him.

Maria places a plate in front of me and huffs a breath. “Carlos, stop.” She clips him around the back of the head, and he ducks.

“Ow!” My eyebrows hike up. This tiny woman just hit the guy who looks like a serial killer, and he’s smiling at her like she’s his favorite person. “I’m just looking.”

“You’re making her nervous.”

He flashes me a quick smirk. “Sorry.”

“You’re not making me nervous,” I say. It’s true. I’m aware of him, of what he’s capable of, but I’m not scared. I never am anymore, just numb.

“Ignore the boys. They’re harmless really.” I almost choke on my coffee. She does know what they do, right?

Carlos snorts, then snaps a newspaper open, that amused smirk remaining on his lips. “Little bro.” Carlos scruffs Lucas’ hair. “How is guard duty?”

“Fuck off,” Lucas groans. “It’s fine.”

“Good. I’ll tell mum she can stop shouting at me for dragging you into my ‘gang’.”

I glance between the two of them, noticing the resemblance. Both have warm whiskey-colored eyes and a smile that says they get into trouble often. But where Carlos looks like he’s the one who starts that trouble, Lucas looks like he’d accidentally start it and then run at the sight of it.

“Carlos and Samuel live here,” Maria says to me, ignoring the guys. “Samuel’s gone to the warehouse with Rafael, but Carlos here is a night owl.” The woman talks and talks, but I find I don’t mind it. The sound of her cutting vegetables, bubbling pots, and chatting away almost to herself is somewhat soothing. I glance around the enormous kitchen with its marble counter tops and tall windows. For a second I allow my mind to wander to a fleeting memory: a big house with a kitchen similar to this. My mother cooking, my father kissing her neck and making her laugh, and my older sister sitting next to me, rolling her eyes. I smile at the memory and then snap back to reality. That was once normality, and now, well, even this isn’t my normal. I can’t help but feel the novelty though, and so for a moment, I revel in the simple act of sitting in a kitchen, eating bacon and drinking coffee like so many normal people do.