El Santo (Saint-Sinner 1)

She sighed, disappointed by my lack of response. There wasn’t a need for her to know about my life. Hers was already tainted enough because of me. The damage was already done, and the last thing I wanted to do was fuck her up even more. I wanted to keep Amira as innocent and pure as humanly possible, for however long I was capable of. It was the least I could do, I owed it to her and her family.

She smiled again, scooting into the side crevice of my body. Wrapping her arm around my torso to rest her head on my chest. She whispered, “Don’t worry, Damien. I’ll rub your back if you have a bad dream.”

I chuckled, kissing the top of her head. Another natural endearment I had always had for her, and I didn’t have that for anyone else.

Affection.

“Aye, Muñeca, you have such a big heart. Don’t ever change. Not for anyone. Including me.”

After that night, she never stopped prying for answers. Except now they weren’t in such an elusive way. She no longer tiptoed around the subject like she used to.

About my past.

My present.

My fucking future.

It didn’t matter how many times I reverted the questions back to her. Amira wouldn’t give up. The first time she saw me, I knew she felt a certain familiarity in my presence. It was the reason she was always so comfortable around me to begin with. As the years continued to go by, it only became more undeniable that the emotion she had perceived was much more than just her safety. There were times when she didn’t have to say one fucking word, just being around her brought a sense of calm over me. She knew it too.

And no fucking good could ever come of that.

Specifically, for her.

The pounding knock on the door tore me away from the realm of my purgatory. I had lost all concept of time as soon as I stepped foot out on that balcony, crossing the threshold somewhere between reality and my plaguing thoughts. I took one last swig of bourbon straight from the bottle and shook off my demons. Needing to regain my thick-skinned, fierce composure before I walked back inside. Curious to see who the impatient fuck, incessantly banging on my door, was.

I was shocked as shit when I finally opened it.

“The fuc—”

He shoved past me, barging right in as if he was invited. Fully aware he wasn’t even fucking welcome. I couldn’t resist breathing out a snide chuckle as I kicked the door shut behind me and leaned against it. I slowly placed my hands in the pockets of my fatigues, cocking my head to the side. Watching the son of a bitch’s every move as he made his way around the open floor plan of my apartment, looking for I don’t know what.

“So you do know where I live?” I greeted, desperately wanting to get this family fucking reunion over with.

My father abruptly stopped at the kitchen island, intently eyeing me up and down. Time seemed to stand still as his stare gradually made its way back up to my face. From the moment his eyes barred into mine, it started to unravel a deep resolve within my core. While he anxiously searched for any remnants of his long, lost son, with nothing but a reminiscent glare. I could see my childhood flash before his eyes as he stood directly in front of me. Each time he blinked, another milestone from my life came into his sight. All of it. Every memory, every emotion…

The good.

The bad.

The destructive.

Leading us right back to that night as if the last five years didn’t exist. Like nothing had changed between us, when in fact, everything had. Every last one of his demons were emerging, clouding the small space amongst us. It all hit him so fucking hard to the point that the walls started caving in on him.

The answers he needed.

The truth he was looking for.

The reality of his mistakes and regrets.

They were all burying him alive, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel it. But too many lies had come between us, too many dead bodies killed by my own two hands. All in the name of what he instilled in me to do.

I was growing anxious and impatient from the mixture of emotions he stirred inside of me. I hadn’t felt them for him in so fucking long. The sentiments dwelled in the dark hollow space of my heart where he used to exist.

You see, I didn’t just lose my soul that night…

I lost my father too.

The man who made me was also the man who destroyed me. Condemning us both straight to Hell.

There wasn’t an inch of my skin that didn’t feel his love or judgmental glare, and I couldn’t fathom which one was worse. I could no longer just stand there, having him analyze me as if I was just some goddamn lab rat.

Unable to deal with this sentimental bullshit. I spitefully mocked, “Do you like what you see?” Needing to once again regain the control of my surroundings and emotions.

“No, Damien, I don’t. Quite frankly, I don’t think you do either. Am I wrong?”

“You’re not right,” I countered, pushing off the door. “Why don’t you cut the bullshit and tell me what the fuck I can do for you?”

“Jesus, son—”

I got right up in his face. “I’m not your son anymore, and I haven’t been in a long fucking time.”

He grimaced, raising his hands in the air in a surrendering gesture. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“No? Then why are you here? Just to be a pain in my ass?”

He slowly moved away from me, but I stepped toward him, not backing down. I wasn’t playing this cat and mouse game, not in my fucking home. The one I made without him, when I left his.

“I didn’t want this life for you, Damien,” he confessed, as if he could read my mind.

“What life are you referring to exactly? The one you raised me in?”

“That’s not fair.”

I shook my head, sneering, “You have some balls coming into my home, playing fucking martyr when you’re the one who damned me from the start.”

“I didn’t think Emilio would—”

“You didn’t think Emilio would what? See the boy you trained for combat? The same person who you taught to respect and admire everything he stood for? My dominant traits, my controlling mannerisms, my fucking memories of meetings, speeches, and everything in between… Christ, old man. All you did was personally create me for him.”

He instantly jerked back like I had hit him, and in a way, I had. Words had the power to cut you far worse than any knife could make you bleed. I had five years of pent-up words to suck him dry.

“Those weren’t my intentions,” he justified, never breaking his intense stare. “I wanted you to have the best education, Damien. Train to go into battle in case you were sent to war. I wanted you to be prepared, knowledgeable, and give you the life I never had! Now, I don’t even know who the fuck you are!”

“Do not raise your fucking voice at me. Ever. I’m not a child,” I gritted through a clenched jaw. My temper looming through the thin patience I had left for him. “This man, the one you say you don’t recognize, is the same man you raised. Don’t you ever look me in the eyes again and fucking deny that.” I saw nothing but the years of betrayal through the rage in my vision.

The air was so thick between us he had to back away from the impact of my words stabbing into his skin.

“What do I have to gain, lying to you? Not a damn thing. I’m here because, regardless of what you believe, I’m still your father and I love you. You’re still my son, Damien. You always will be. Nothing will ever change that, no matter how much you try.”

I didn’t even blink an eye, knowing those words were his weapon of choice that he was trying to use to slice right back into me. They weren’t working. I remained the solid man I had trained to be, unfazed by his doting performance.

“Says the man who took five fucking years to show up at his son’s home and declare that.” I slowly clapped my hands, deviously grinning. “Congratulations, you’re father of the fucking year! Now do me a favor. Get the fuck out!”

His eyes widened and his lips parted. My w

ords finally puncturing a hole deep in his heart, exactly where I wanted them to.

“You have lost all decency!” he roared, stepping in front of me again. “You’re right. You’re not my son! Is that what you want? To be dead to me?”

I didn’t falter. “You’re as dead to me as the puta who abandoned her son. But unlike you, I still fucking respect the woman. At least she left knowing she was destined to be a shitty mother. Too bad I can’t say the same for you!”

My head whooshed back from the sudden blow to my face before I got the last word out. I stumbled to the side, grabbing ahold of the counter, stunned. It took me a few seconds to gather my bearings and realize my father had just backhanded me. I couldn’t remember the last time someone got in a good hit. It had been that long.

I glared at him, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. “What the fuck! Touch me again, old man, and I will bury you. I don’t give a fuck that you’re my blood!”

“See! You’re exactly like him! Emilio Salazar’s clone! You’re nothing but a monster! Do you hear me? A fucking monster!” he seethed, his hands rolling into fists at his sides.

The rest played out in slow motion like a bad dream. My father took a step in my direction as the door to my apartment burst open, slamming against the wall. Knocking frames over, sending shards of glass skidding across the floor by our feet.

“No, he’s not! You are!”

I never expected who was standing there ready for battle, instantly coming to my defense. Almost knocking me on my ass. I should’ve known better, but once again…

I didn’t.

I never did when it came to her.

I stood there frozen, immediately realizing what I had just done. Revealing my identity that Damien worked so hard to keep off the radar, and possibly endangering both of our lives. I recognized the older man instantly. He was the one who took part in brutally beating my papi that night five years ago. His face still haunted my nightmares to this day. Except, now I knew who he was—Damien’s father. I could now see the familiarity in their eyes. The same eyes that held all my savior’s truths. He recognized me instantly, the shock evident on his face. He kept looking at me like he had just seen a ghost.

He stepped toward me, his hand extended as if he was going to touch my face to make sure I was real. “You are—”

Damien suddenly appeared out of thin air, crudely shoving his father away from me as hard as he could. Shielding my body behind his. “Don’t even think about it, motherfucker. Don’t try me,” he threatened, holding his hand out in front of him. His warning was loud and clear.

My eyes widened and I swallowed the lump in my throat, witnessing yet another side of the man I thought I knew, for the first time ever. There was something predatory about the way he was guarding me with one arm wrapped around my torso, and his hand steady on the side of my stomach. It reminded me of a lion ready to attack its prey.

“Damien, it’s okay—”

“Don’t you say one fucking word, not one,” he interrupted me in a calm tone, although his demeanor was anything but.

I didn’t know what was worse—seeing his vicious fury like the last time, or witnessing this completely opposite side to him that was eerily calm. At least with his rage I knew what I was getting.

His father slowly took a few more steps back toward the front entrance, not taking his troubled stare off mine. “What did you do, Damien? What the fuck did you do?”

“It’s none of your goddamn business, now leave and keep your fucking mouth shut. Or I’ll do it for you.”

He slammed the door shut with no intentions of leaving. “Jesus Christ, do you have any idea what will happen to you both if Emilio finds out you betrayed him?”

“He’s not going to find out, now is he?” Damien firmly stated, even though it came out as a question.

“How could you not tell me? Where has she been staying? After all this time… I thought… I thought you had murdered a child.”

Unable to control my mouth, I blurted, “You obviously don’t know your son! Damien would never do that! He has done nothing but take care of me like I was his own flesh and blood. He’s not a murderer like you!”

Damien didn’t reprimand me like I thought he would. Instead, he locked eyes with his father, who took one look at me and then back at him. He narrowed his eyes, cocking his head to the side as if he was silently asking him a question. I glanced back and forth between them, trying to figure out the answer, but it was no use.

“You can’t promise this girl protection forever. What’s going to happen if Emilio sends you somewhere else? Huh? To another city or worse, another country on the other side of the world? Who’s going to take care of her then? What about your future wife? Your kids? Do you have any idea the life she’s going to have without you?”

I jerked back, never considering any of those questions. We’d been living in our own little world, where I thought we’d stay forever. Not once thinking that reality could rip that away from me. Again. I looked over at Damien to find shelter in his gaze like I had done so many times before. His eyes remained neutral. There was absolutely no change in his composure, making me wonder if he had already considered all those questions.

“Unlike you, old man. I protect what’s fucking mine. Nothing is going to happen to her and if someone—anyone—so much as tries,” Damien forewarned, pulling his gun out from the back of his fatigues and aimed it at his father’s heart. “I won’t hesitate to pull the fucking trigger,” he paused, letting his words sink in. “Are we clear?”

My stomach was in knots, churning with each tick of the clock. I knew Damien carried several guns, he was never secretive about his weapons. But I had hoped I’d never see him pointing one at another human being again. Especially his own flesh and blood.

His father nodded, eyeing me. Feeling my anxiety radiating off my skin.

“Let me hear you say the words, Dad,” Damien ordered, never taking his eyes off the man in front of him. Even though I knew he felt my anxiousness too. “I won’t ask again.”

His hand never left the side of my stomach. His calloused thumb strummed up and down on my exposed skin from where my tank top was rising up, leaving goose bumps in its wake. Igniting a foreign feeling deep in my core and a shiver to run down my spine, but just as fast as it came, it was gone. As if he realized what he was doing and stopped.

At first, I thought it was to ease my worry, providing any comfort he could.

Though now, I wasn’t so sure.

“I would never sell you out,” he simply replied. “You can trust me, I’m your father.”

“I trust no one. Especially you.” Damien nodded toward the door, lowering his gun. “We’re done here.”

There wasn’t anything left to say that hadn’t already been said. I heard it all through the door before making my grand entrance and most likely the worst mistake of my life.

Finally, his father just backed away, shook his head, and left. Calmly shutting the door behind him. Damien’s hand lingered at my side for a few more seconds until he removed it completely. Taking his warmth and affection with him.

“Damien, I’m sor—”

He snapped, “Not right now, Amira,” locking the door before walking down the hallway toward his bedroom.

I instinctively followed him, feeling as though he needed me. “Can you just let me expla—”

He whipped around, stopping inches from my face. His warm, alcohol-infused breath assaulted my senses with a sweet smell that had a spicy kick. Making my stomach flutter. I couldn’t give it a second thought because with one look, he rendered me speechless. “I. Said. Not. Right. Now. Amira.”

I warily nodded, feeling so guilty and confused. Trying my hardest to keep my tears at bay. The last thing I wanted was for him to see me cry. I couldn’t control all the emotions hitting me all at once, the unanswered what ifs, spinning around my head. I was beyond overwhelmed with everything that had just went down, scared of w

hat was going to happen with Damien.

With me.

With us.

My family.

“Just be a good girl and go watch television in the living room. Stay inside and out of trouble. I need a minute to myself. You think you could do that?” he added, making me feel worse.

I nodded in agreement. Afraid if I spoke my voice would betray me. Pissing him off even further. He was desperately trying not to lose his temper on me again, except this time I wanted him to. I realized right then and there that I’d take his anger over his silence, any day. I watched him turn his back on me and stalk toward his room, closing his door behind him. It took everything inside of me not to run to him. He had been my only stability for so many years, that I had forgotten what it was like to stand on my own and not have the refuge he always provided for me.

I laid on the couch, listening to the shower run from his master bathroom as I gazed out the balcony doors. Hoping the sound of running water and the serenity of the night’s sky would ease my unsettled mind. My eyes started fluttering closed and the next thing I knew, I must have passed out.

“Amira, run faster! You’re so slow!” Teresa shouted, running in front of me.

“I am! I am, Teresa! But you’re too fast! I can’t catch up! Slow down!” I yelled back, trying to get to her.

“I’m not going to slow down, you slowpoke! Come on!” she laughed, about to run into our house.

I saw them before she did.

The monsters.

“NO! Teresa! Don’t run in there! Please, don’t run in there! They’re in there! I can see them! Please!” I pleaded from a distance.

My voice sounded so far, yet so close at the same time. It echoed all around me, making it difficult to tell if she heard me or not. I blinked and was back in the cabinet when I was nine-years-old, except this time everyone could see where I was hiding. They were all staring in my direction.

My family’s arms were reaching out for me while the monsters just stood there and laughed.

“Come on, Amira. Don’t hide like you did before. Come be with your family. We miss you,” Teresa whispered in an eerie tone.