El Santo (Saint-Sinner 1)

“No…” She fervently shook my head. “No…” Unable to form any coherent thoughts, she stumbled on all the words coming out of my lying, betraying mouth.

“Since you’re my fucking wife and all, I’ll give you one last chance before I let a fucking bullet do the talking for you. Did you know who I was from the start?”

“Please, Damien, let me explain. I love you!”

I slammed my fists at the sides of her body on the table, welcoming the sting. It was a nice change from the one in my heart. She screamed, shuddering in terror as I eerily loomed in front of her. My hands never leaving her sides.

“I won’t ask again,” I gritted through a clenched jaw near her ear.

She intensely nodded. Her body quivering so fucking bad it vibrated the whole table. Placing my gun on her cheek, I hissed, “Good girl.”

“Damien, please don’t do this… please…”

I cocked my head to the side, taking in her pathetic pleas. Softly moving my mouth against her cheek and toward her lips, craving the feel of them against mine. “Did you think I wouldn’t have found out?” I breathed into her mouth.

“I… please…”

“Choose your words wisely, Evita. I already know you’re a fucking liar.”

Tears streamed down her beautiful face. I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything. I was too busy dying inside from the blade she stabbed in my heart.

“Please… just let me explain… I didn’t…” She couldn’t catch her breath as if the room started to spin on her.

Over.

And over.

And over.

“I swear, I love you.”

“I loved you, too, baby.”

She winced, hating to hear those words come out of my mouth. Knowing I meant them, but never said them.

“Do you have any idea what it feels like to have your heart ripped out? Because you will in a fucking second if you don’t answer my goddamn question!” I roared along her lips, aiming my gun toward her heart.

“No! Yes! No! I don’t know! I hoped… I prayed you wouldn’t have found out!” Her lips vibrated against mine, and I resisted the urge to bite them between my teeth.

“It always amazes me to see how fast people can shatter, and trust me when I say, baby, I’m about to fucking break you.”

More tears slid down her face, placing her hand over her stomach. Really wanting to hold it over her heart.

“How’s it feel to know your life is about to end by the man you were supposed to kill?”

She shook her head back and forth. “No, no, no, no, no,” she repeated, looking me dead in the eyes. “I was never going to kill you. I swear it!”

“To know that the woman I made my wife is nothing but a fucking traitor? Now, that…” I kissed her. “That I didn’t see coming.”

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… but I love you! I didn’t know I was going to fall in love with you! I was just supposed to be a mole in your life for a few months! The U.S. wanted to take down Emilio, not you! But they knew that you were the way to him! They promised me they would send me to America in exchange for any information I could provide! I just wanted to get the fuck out of Cuba! This bullshit communist country that took my parents’ lives!”

“So was anything you told me the truth? Or was it all a bunch of bullshit lies? Starting with your ‘I love you’s’.”

“I was never going to kill you! I promise!”

“Your promises mean shit to me. Exactly the same way you now do.”

She shut her eyes, she had to. The pain of my words taking her under.

“I thought I met the woman I was going to spend the rest of my life with. You. Someone who understood me, never judged me. It all makes sense now. How you always wanted to know about my day, that it never mattered the lives I took, the sins I’d pay. You were already in Hell before me. All you wanted was information on Emilio, that’s why you stood the fuck by my side, no matter what. I let you in, Evita. In my life. My home. My bed. My fucking heart!” I snarled, unable to go on with this charade of blatant treachery any longer. Shoving the end of my gun harder into her heart. “You’re nothing but a lying cunt!”

“Damien, please… I’m begging you… please…”

I kissed her one last time, needing to remember her just this way before backing away, keeping the aim of my gun over her heart. I ordered, “Get on your fucking knees.”

She didn’t. Her body was shaking profusely, unable to breathe.

To think.

To move.

“NOW!”

Placing her hands in the air out in front of her, as if that was going to make one bit of difference. She listened, sliding to the ground onto her knees in front of me.

“You can’t judge a sinner by one sin alone, and I’ve sinned enough to reap what I sow. You know what I do to people who betray me, fucking traitors… it’s who I am. It’s all I know,” I firmly stated, tears forming in my eyes. “For better or for worse, right, baby?”

Evita. Knew. Me.

She should’ve known better.

“Damien, I lov—” I cocked my gun back, and her eyes widened in panic, fear, understanding.

“You know, I always preferred the till death do us part.”

And with that… I didn’t hesitate in pulling the trigger. Ending the life of another fucking traitor, except the only difference was…

This one was my wife.

I drove my car down the winding roads in a vacant state. My body was stiff, my face showed no emotion, and I felt absolutely fucking nothing. I’d been like this for the last six months, moving on autopilot. I couldn’t remember the last time I slept for more than an hour or two. My mind wouldn’t stop reeling, playing out my entire fucking life every time I closed my eyes.

It was a whirlwind of emotions.

A catalyst of memories.

An unrelenting nightmare I was living in broad daylight.

Despite my numb state, I was still able to graduate at the top of my class and early from law school. It was the only thing that kept me going. I drowned myself in school work, classes, and Emilio. Going as far as picking up some extra shifts at the prison to take out my frustrations through torturous acts. Dreadfully trying to get through the days and nights. Knowing nothing would change. Tomorrow would be the same as the day before. They were all on constant repeat, even though I was going forward in time. I tried not to think about Evita, mindful that everything she had ever told me was yet another fucking lie. I couldn’t stand seeing, feeling, or smelling her presence around my apartment. I took care of the issue the only way I saw fit. I fucking burned her belongings.

The one woman I actually allowed into my real life, ended up being like the rest of them.

Another goddamn traitor.

Maybe it was my karma for all the lives I’d taken and the one heart I’d broken. Over and over again. Rosarío and Emilio were the only two people who knew the truth about Evita’s untimely demise. There was no getting around the truth; it was what it was.

No fucking regrets.

I did what I had to do.

As always, Rosarío provided the support I needed, being the only mother I’d ever known. Emilio, on the other hand, patted my back and laughed it off. Saying some shit about all women being lying whores.

Amira tried to reach out to me after Evita’s death a few times. I assumed Rosarío told her one thing or another, but never the truth. She left me countless messages that went unreturned but not unheard. I’d often sit out on the balcony and replay them just to hear her sweet voice that always brought me comfort in her absence and in my time of need. I tried like hell to not go to her. The last thing I wanted was for Amira to think she was my rebound. She didn’t deserve all this fucked-up shit, she never asked for it. She certainly wouldn’t give a shit about the fucking birthday present I was about to deliver.

But I did.

As much as I wished I didn’t, I cared. A lot. I had missed her last few birthdays, and it a

lmost crushed me not being there for all her important days. I spent her last birthday with Evita in my bed and Amira on my mind. I wasn’t about to miss this one too. I just needed to see her face, wish her a happy birthday, and talk to her for a few minutes, if she would allow it. Those were my only intentions and expectations as I drove over to Rosarío’s house, feeling a sense of something I couldn’t even explain or begin to understand.

Maybe it was the feeling of going home.

Then again, it could have just been Amira. The only person on the entire planet that could physically bring me to my fucking knees with as little as a look.

I didn’t deserve her.

I never asked for her.

I couldn’t have been more grateful to have her.

Amira didn’t deserve me either, but no amount of training could ever condition her out of my life. I’d conformed to a lot of things I wasn’t proud of, but Amira would never be one of them. She had always been my refuge from the chaos going on in my daily life.

She was the exception.

She was my exception.

Deep down I was hoping she wouldn’t be home, but even deeper than that, I prayed she was. My heart sped up a few extra beats when I stepped out of my car. Once again, I thought about how unprepared I was to actually see her. It felt like a lifetime had passed since we had talked, over a year and a half ago. This was the longest span of time I’d ever gone without her. My adrenaline pumped wildly through my veins with each step that brought me closer to the entrance.

To her.

With a long, deep, reassuring breath, I walked up the stairs to the porch and just as I was about to knock, the light flicked on and the door opened. I wasn’t expecting to come face to face with Amira. Her expression left me in a state of fucking shock, not really knowing what to say or how to even say it.

For a brief second, we both stood there without saying a word. I spent the last six months dead inside, and all it took was one fucking moment between us to feel alive again.

She was so fucking perfect.

So fucking mine.

She was wearing a pair of pink cotton shorts and a tight white tank top. Without even dropping my eyes, I could see her midriff where her tank didn’t quite cover her sun-kissed skin. She held a bowl in her hands with strawberry ice cream melting inside. She’d always stir it in a circle until it was a smooth and creamy consistency before she’d eat it. It was one of her silly quirks I’d grown to love. I tried to focus on anything other than the deafening silence between us, keeping me from forming any coherent thoughts. Not one single word came to my mind. When I had thousands I wanted to say to her.

She was the first to break the silence, saying, “She’s not home. Mama Rosa went to Havana to help a friend. Something you would know nothing about. I’ll tell her you stopped by.” Her trying to slam the fucking door in my face was the only trigger I needed to snap out of my hypnotic state. The best thing about my personality was my ability to act quickly, and this was my moment to strike.

My hand stopped the door faster than she could close it, and I easily held her and the solid wood back. “I didn’t come to see her. Let me in, open the door,” I ordered in a neutral, but demanding, tone.

“Why? What do you want, Damien?”

“You know what I want. It’s your birthday.”

“Yeah? I had one last year too, and the year before that and the year before that, and you didn’t bother to show up for any of those either.”

“I stopped by for your seventeenth birthday, and you weren’t here. I had a gift delivered for your eighteenth birthday, but it went unacknowledged, by you. Now I’m standing here for your nineteenth birthday with yet another gift, so please open the goddamn door.”

“What happened on my sixteenth birthday, Damien? Huh? Oh, yeah! I remember, you fucked a woman in front of me! Now, guess what? I don’t want anything from you other than for you to leave!”

Without a fight, I pushed through the door, moving her out of the way so I could gaze into her solemn eyes. “You know you don’t mean that. I fucked up, Amira. All I do is fuck up when it comes to you. But I still remember the girl who used to anxiously wait for me in her reading nook that I built just for her. You love gifts. You always have. It’s why you look forward to your birthday and Christmas, and all the times you knew I was coming to see you. I did nothing but fucking spoil you, and now all I want to do is to give you my gift. If you still want me to leave after you open it, I will. But I’m hoping that won’t be the case.”

She glanced at the package, wrapped in white paper with a satin blue bow in my arms and reluctantly nodded, letting me in. Probably because she knew I wouldn’t leave until I got my way. My hand immediately touched her soft skin on the small of her back, causing her breath to hitch. She wasn’t expecting to feel the emotions that the slightest bit of my touch could evoke. I hid back a smile, guiding her toward the couch in the living room to sit down, internally struggling to let her go.

“Damien, I don’t know if this is such—”

I grabbed the bowl out of her lap, quickly replacing it with my present. Trying to distract her from what she was going to say. “Pull the ribbon,” I insisted, crouching down in front of her to explain as she opened it.

Amira did as she was told, pulling off the bow and lifting the lid from the package. I couldn’t fucking resist, I never could when it came to her, and I took a bite of her ice cream. Knowing her sweet mouth was on the exact same spoon minutes ago.

The expression on her face pulled me away from my conscious thoughts, assuring me that she had no idea what the gift was. She took out the handcrafted box and held it out in front of her. “I don’t get it. What’s it supposed to be?”

Taking one last bite of ice cream, I traded her the bowl for the box. Lifting the silver lid, showing her exactly how it worked. “A guy in Havana makes them. It’s made from clay and when you put a candle in it, it heats up to help keep you warm.”

She sucked in her bottom lip, stirring her ice cream. Trying to act unfazed like she wasn’t the least bit interested, but I knew she was. “So what’s so special about that?”

I was unable to hold back a smile that time, her snarky little mouth always had a way of making me laugh. I reached for the candle that was still inside the wrapping and set the box on the end table next to us. Quickly turning off the lamp, needing the room to be somewhat dark in order for her gift to work.

“The special part comes when you light the candle and place the lid back on top of the box,” I told her, handing her the wooden matches out of my pocket. “Go ahead, light the candle, Muñeca.”

I hadn’t called her that in years, and it felt so fucking perfect falling from my lips. For a few more seconds, her eyes stayed connected to mine and it was clear that she was thinking the same thing I was. But she shook it off, continuing to act unfazed like the term of endearment didn’t mean anything to her, when it meant everything to the both of us. She lit the matchstick and leaned forward to light the candle.

“Look up, Amira.”

Her eyes noticeably widened, and her mouth dropped open when her eyes gazed up at me. I swear I heard a gasp escape her lips as she took in the significance and sentiment behind her gift. She opened her mouth several times to say something, though nothing came out. She couldn’t speak. She could barely even keep up with all the memories tumbling down on her from that night. I took it upon myself to speak for her, pointing to the stars on the ceiling, and connecting the dots in the same way she had in the night sky, four years ago.

Repeating her same words, I reiterated, “That’s Princess Andromeda and that’s her husband, Perseus. Do you see how they unite in the middle? You can’t tell where one star ends and the other begins, kind of like they’re holding hands.”

For a few moments, I had all of her…

Her mind.

Her body.

Her soul.

Her heart.

They all came back to me, like they had never left

to begin with.

They’ve always been mine.

“Wow… Damien, I can’t… I mean… wow…” she breathed out, running her hand over the warming box. “What are these stars?” she questioned in an engrossed tone, gliding the tips of her fingers over the blue stars and then the only silver one.

“Nine kids,” I said, light-heartedly with a grin, hoping for a smile.

I got a condescending glare, instead. “Why is there only one silver?”

“The blue ones are all boys.”

And there it was. The giggle that got me through so much fucking shit. To this day it was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. I had almost forgotten what it sounded like, and that was something I never wanted to forget. Even if it was quickly silenced, it was enough to take me a long, long, fucking way.

“Thank you, Damien, but none of this changes anything. You can’t show up here after a year and a half with a present and think everything is okay. It’s not. I tried calling you, I stopped by your apartment even though I promised myself I’d never step foot in there again. But I did it for you. I was worried about you. I mean, I can’t imagine what it was like to lose your wife. To a car accident of all things.”

I kept my composure, knowing it was the lie that Rosarío conjured up to tell her. Simply stating, “We’re not talking about her.”

“I know… I get it… To love someone and—”

“I love you, Muñeca. I’ve always loved you, and I always will.” It was the first time I’d ever expressed those three words to her out loud. I had to finally say them. They stayed dormant, pent up in me for as long as she had been in my life. She didn’t try to hide the heartwarming expression on her face this time. Even though she already knew my feelings, I think a part of her also knew how hard it was for me to express them to her.

To anyone…

But especially her.

She swallowed hard. “Damien—”