El Diablo (The Devil 1)

I shook my head, defeated. “All I did was love you. After everything you put me through. All I did was fucking love you… How could you do that to me? Flaunt your relationship in front of my face like that? Like I meant nothing to you. Jesus Christ, I guess you treat all women like shit. They just keep coming back for more. Damn you! You really are the Devil, aren’t you?” I bellowed, trying to keep my voice from breaking.

“I never claimed to be anything else.”

“Did you cheat on me? Were you seeing her the entire time? Were you fucking her and coming home to me?”

“No, you have to be in a relationship for it to count as cheating. We were never together, Lexi. We couldn’t be. We were damned from the fucking start. Everything about us is fucking wrong. I tried to stay away from you. For years, I tried. Watching you from afar, protecting you the only way I knew how. You were never supposed to be in my life. I was never supposed to be in yours. But fate brought us together and it was only a matter of time before destiny destroyed us. You want to know the truth. I’ll finally show you the goddamn proof.”

He leaned back, releasing me from his grasp. Getting out of bed, throwing on the black slacks that were on his floor. Not bothering with a shirt. He swiftly walked out of the room, leading me to his office. I followed close behind, never in a million years expecting what I was about to learn.

As soon as I walked in, he nodded toward the files that were placed by his gun. The same files that never left his desk.

“The truth has been hiding in plain sight all along,” he stated, looking from me to the files. “Go, cariño. You want the pieces to my puzzle? Well I just laid them all out for you. Solve the mystery. It’s time for you to find out who the fuck I really am.”

I walked around the desk, pulling back his chair, taking a seat. My stomach fluttered and my heart pounded, making it hard for me to breathe.

“What is this going to change?” I found myself asking, looking up at him. Stalling, terrified to find out the truth.

“Everything, cariño,” he simply stated, closing the door, sitting in the chair in front of his desk. Leaning back to set his ankle over his knee. Our roles reversed. He nodded to the folders again.

I swallowed hard, slowly opening the first file. Gasping at the first photo. I looked at him, shocked, and back down to the photo, picking it up. “This...” I paused, choking back tears. “I haven’t seen this picture since I was a kid. Why do you have a picture of my mother?” I ran my shaking fingers over her beautiful face.

“Keep going,” he replied in a neutral tone.

I did, looking at each and every one of them, stacked on top of each other. One by one, laying them all out on his desk. Her face consuming me, she was alive in these photos, smiling, happy. Nothing like the woman who raised me.

“How do you have these? My dance recitals, me at my bus stop, my first day of school… What the hell is going on? How did you get these? Are these how you knew where I grew up? Did I know you? When I was a kid, did I meet you?”

He narrowed his eyes at me, rubbing his fingers over his lips. Contemplating how to approach the subject.

“Answer me! Where did you fucking get these?” I slammed my fist down on his desk. Welcoming the sting. Trying like hell to keep my emotions in check.

“I’ve known you since the day you were born, Lexi. Since your first breath, I knew who you were.”

My eyes widened. “How? I don’t understand.”

“Open the next folder.”

“Not until you answer my questions.”

“A picture is worth a thousand words, little girl. Now. Open. The. Next fucking folder,” he ordered, speaking through his fingers.

I pulled out the file from under the scattered pictures, opening it. “Oh my God,” I whimpered, letting the folder fall to the desk like it had burned me.

The truth was too much for me to take, pictures flew everywhere on his desk. My eyes glued to every last photo, I couldn’t decide which one to focus on more. Seeing all the pictures of them together, kissing, smiling, laughing together. Seeing the man I always knew still lived inside of Martinez. Realizing that the man behind the expensive fucking suit…

Once belonged to my mother.

“She was your girlfriend,” I stated as a question. Letting a few tears escape, but quickly wiping them away.

“No,” he said, bringing my attention to him.

We locked eyes. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. Looking me dead in the eyes, adding, “She was my fiancée.”

“No…” I fervently shook my head. “No… you’re lying. You’re a fucking liar. Is this some kind of sick joke? You think this is funny? No…” I wallowed, my voice breaking. Unable to form coherent thoughts. Stumbling on all the words coming out of my mouth.

“Sophia wasn’t always the depressed woman that raised you, Lexi. I did that to her. I turned her into someone who couldn’t get out of bed, who hated her fucking life,” he sadistically spewed, not caring I was physically breaking down in front of him. “I guess it’s the price she paid for loving me.” He smirked. “I took her virtue, just like I took yours. I guess the two of you have more in common than you thought.”

I jerked back, his truths stabbing, slicing me all over. I would be nothing after he was finished. “Why are you doing this to me? I don’t believe you! You’re lying!” I screamed, loud enough to break glass.

He callously chuckled. “Do you know how many times over the years I had to catch myself from calling you Sophia? Stop myself from groaning out her name, instead of yours when we were fucking. All those years you’ve been asking me what cariño means. It was always your mother, Lexi. She was my cariño.”

Tears streamed down my face. The dam was broken. I didn’t care if he saw them anymore. I didn’t care about anything. I was dying inside. Words could cut you deeper than knives, and his were mutilating me. “Please… please stop… Alejandro I can’t…” I couldn’t catch my breath, the room started to spin. Around, and around, and around.

“Oh, come on, cariño,” he mocked, standing up.

Causing me to take a step back, coming in contact with his bookshelf behind me. I welcomed the sting, needing something, anything to take away the pain from the salt he kept pouring on my open wounds.

“I thought you wanted to know who I was, Lexi?” He cocked his head to the side, arching an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what you’ve been begging for? Wanting me to let you in on my life? For you to know everything about me? My demons…”

More tears slid down my face, placing my hand over my heart. Trying to hold it together. “Did you break her too?” I wept.

He scoffed, shaking his head. “No, she broke me. She left me. Not the other way around. And she spent the rest of her miserable fucking life regretting it. But don’t worry, sweetheart, your father made sure to stick the final nail in her fucking coffin.”

“My father? You knew my father?” I tried taking a deep breath, but there was no air for me to take. It had all been knocked out of me.

By him.

“Oh, I more than knew him. I fucking hated him. Your daddy always had a thing for your mom. My girl. Even when we were together, he watched her from afar. He’s part of the reason she fucking left me. But I didn’t hate him for any of that.”

I shook my head back and forth. “No, no, no, no, no,” I repeated, placing my hands over my ears like a child, not wanting to hear anymore. I had enough, I’d reached my breaking point.

Why was he doing this to me? What did he want?

“Michael, the piece of shit, cheated on my sister, after they were fucking married. Your daddy fucked your mom behind my sisters back.”

The truth hit me like a bucket of freezing cold water. “Please… please… stop…” I begged not being able to hear anymore, the room closing in on me, coming in and out of focus. My body shaking profusely, feeling myself drifting away. His voice echoed in the distance. I slid down the bookshelf, my legs giving out on me./>   I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Sophia and Amari were best friends. Your father saw a moment of weakness, of loneliness, and it produced you. Michael cheated on Amari when Briggs was barely fucking walking.”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” I yelled out, uncontrollably. My hands going to my hair, wanting to rip it from my fucking head. “Please! Stop it!” I panted. “I don’t want to hear…” heaving, “Another… fucking… Oh, my God…” gasping, “Word!” I managed to scream. Barely being able to see his silhouette through the rage.

“Is it making sense now, cariño? Are the pieces fitting together? Why your mother hated herself? Why she became so fucking depressed? Why she couldn’t leave your goddamn house? She hated herself for the shitty decisions she made. Her choices ruined your fucking life.”

“Please… Alejandro… Please… I can’t… I can’t listen anymore…” I pleaded, looking at him through blurred eyes.

He leaned over the desk. Shoving all the pictures in my direction. They flew everywhere, falling all around me. I was finally surrounded by nothing but the truth, exactly how he wanted.

“I was there the day he met you. Hiding in the shadows, in the dark. Where I’ve been living all my fucking life. Watching him hold you for the first time. Seeing Sophia’s broken face when he told her he wouldn’t be a part of your life. That you were a mistake, an accident. Your daddy never wanted you. And your mother spent the rest of her life battling her demons every time she looked in your eyes.”

I shut my eyes, I had to. The pain taking me under.

“You look me in the fucking eyes when I’m talking to you,” he sneered.

I slowly opened them back up, realizing that I was truly coming face to face with El Diablo for the first time.

“It was bad enough that he cheated on my sister, but the motherfucker didn’t even have the balls to stick around and help raise his bastard child, nor admit his mistakes and come clean. I gave him time, I was hoping he would own up to his shit, but he never did. Still pretending to be everything my sister ever wanted,” he rasped. “So I made the decision, I gave the order… to have Michael. Your father… murdered.”

My mouth dropped open, sucking in air.

He snidely grinned. “I killed him, Lexi. No one else, but me.”

“What? But Briggs said they were in a car accident. You killed your sister, too? No… NO!”

His eyes glazed over, the pain breaking through his glare only for a second. He shook it off, blinking it away. He stated, “Why not, I killed my own father… Now, allow me to introduce myself, here’s the man behind the expensive fucking suits. Is he everything you thought he would be?”

They say crimes of passion can happen in an instant. If you blinked, you’d miss it. A person can be pushed to the brink of insanity. Teetering on the edge. I just wanted him to stop talking. I didn’t want to hear any more of the vile he was so viciously spewing. I begged him, pleaded with him to stop. I never intended to hurt him.

Or maybe…

I did.

Before I knew what I was doing, I dove for the gun on his desk. Aiming it directly at him. Trying to still my trembling hands.

He didn’t move.

He wasn’t surprised.

It was as if he expected me to do it, like this was what he wanted in the end.

He leaned back, nonchalantly placing his hands in his pockets. Standing taller, prouder, ready for anything. Eyeing me up and down with a menacing regard. “You ever held a gun before?”

“Please… Martinez… please… just stop…” I coaxed, hanging on by a thread.

“Your hands are shaking. First rule of holding a gun. Never let your enemies see your fear. It just makes you a fucking pussy. So, what's your next move? I’m right here.” He spread his arms out at his sides. “This is your chance to get rid of me. To avenge your mother’s death. Do it! Pull the fucking trigger, do it!” he baited.

“Stop! Please! Fucking stop!” I screamed, sobs raging through my body.

“I'm a bad man! I've done unforgivable things. Here's your chance! Fucking take it! Send me straight to fucking Hell! Now!”

I jerked back, almost falling to the ground not realizing what I had just done. My eyes widened, my heart dropped. A loud popping sound ricocheted off the walls followed by his body falling to the ground with a thud.

“Oh my God,” I breathed out.

I didn’t have time to go to him, to help him. The door to his office slammed open. His niece, my half-sister, Briggs coming face to face with her uncle, lying in a pool of his own blood.

“NO!” She lunged into action, falling to her knees. “NO! NO! NO! PLEASE NO!” she screamed, placing her hands over his wound. Blood gushed through her fingers as she applied pressure.

“Briggs!” Austin yelled, barreling into the room after her. Stopping dead in his tracks, peering from her, to him, to me.

The rest proceeded in slow motion.

She looked up never expecting to see me behind the smoking gun.

“Lexi?” she said with a horrified look on her face.

I immediately released the gun. It dropped to the floor with a bang. "I... oh my God... what happened... oh my God, oh my God, what did I do?” I was in shock, my eyes never leaving him. There was so much blood.

“Fuck!” Austin shouted, instantly grabbing the gun. Placing it in the back of his jeans. “Go!” he ordered, looking at me. “NOW!”

“What?” I replied, confused.

“Austin, what are you doing?” Briggs asked, bringing my attention to her.

“It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. Fuck! Go, Lexi! Now! This place will be swarming with cops in a few minutes! GO!”

I shook my head. “What—”

“Daisy,” Martinez sputtered, coughing up blood. She peered down at him with nothing but love in her eyes. “Let her go. I deserved it. Let her go…” he added, his eyes fluttering. Going in and out of consciousness.

“Get out of here! NOW!” Austin shouted.

I looked around the room one last time. Overwhelmed, confused, regretful, and fucking terrified.

Why are they letting me go?

I didn’t give it a second thought.

I ran.

Trying like hell not to look back.

Six days, six hours, six minutes, since I pulled the trigger. The devil’s numbers, the irony wasn’t lost on me. I walked into my apartment, kicking the door shut behind me. Placing all the newspapers, magazines, and the picture on the living room floor. Turning on the television in front of me.

“Alejandro Martinez, notorious crime boss of New York City is being laid to rest today, after he was gunned down in his downtown Manhattan penthouse a week ago. The investigation is still open, and there are no leads at this time on who is responsible for taking the life of the man, most commonly known as El Diablo. We will be going live from his funeral site in a few minutes. People are gathering from all over the world for this significant moment in time. Where justice has been served. Proving that the good guys can win, in the end. I’m Maria Castello, reporting live. Please stand by.”

I grabbed my stomach immediately feeling nauseous again. This whole thing made me sick, on the brink of throwing up. My conscience. My heart. My soul. Eating away at me. I don’t think I slept the entire week, barely leaving my apartment until today. I did, only because I had to. I’d been struggling with turning myself in, walking to my door, reaching for the handle, telling myself today was the day I’d confess. But I couldn’t. I needed to pay for taking a life that didn’t belong to me. I was no better than him.

Why did they let me go?

Even Martinez let his demise go.

Me.

Why were Austin and Briggs even there?

They never came to visit. It didn’t make any sense. Nothing did. I was more confused now than I had ever been before. I didn’t know how that was even possible. I kept expecting the cops to start pounding on my door

at any point in time. Constantly watching over my shoulder, still feeling his strong presence all around me.

His ghost.

Would he ever go away? Is this what it felt like for him? All those years of feeling the lives he took around him? Is that why he never slept? Their souls haunted him? How can I still love him? Grieve for him after everything he told me? He was with my mom. He was her demise. How do I move on from that?

I looked down at the newspapers. All the headlines were the same.

“FBI raid, Jimmy ‘The Boss’ Sanchez’s mansion. Arrested by FBI.”

“Notorious drug lords from around the world brought to justice.”

“Biggest organized crime bust in world history in wake of Alejandro Martinez’s death.”

“Crime Bosses across the U.S. being questioned. Amongst the names, ‘Benjamin ‘Boss Man’ Robinson was taken into custody.”

“Colombia’s Most wanted, Franco ‘Frankie Smalls’ Vasquez shot by the FBI.”

Since Martinez’s death, organized crime families were going down all over the world. And it was the only peace of mind I got out of the whole ordeal. At least he wasn’t going to be rotting in prison.

Maybe I did the right thing?

Then why did it feel so fucking wrong?

I honestly didn’t know how I felt. I would go from bawling, to numb, back to sobbing again. I was on an emotional rollercoaster going up and down, twisting all around to the point of making myself sick. I couldn’t keep up anymore. I knew one thing for sure. I couldn’t stay in New York anymore. Too many haunting memories lurked in the shadows.

“We are back, reporting live from Alejandro Martinez’s funeral,” the newscaster’s voice brought my attention back to the television. “They have just pulled the casket out of the hearse—” I got up, running to the bathroom, hurling all the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Unable to keep it down. Heaving it down the porcelain basin.

“Ugh!” I let out, throwing up some more. I spit, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as I flushed the toilet.

I sat there for a few minutes, resisting the urge to do it again. Rubbing my stomach, breathing through the nausea, the emotions, the feelings, the tsunami my life had turned into. I stood, going to the sink. Splashing water in my mouth, spitting it back out. Looking at myself in the mirror.