El Santo (Saint-Sinner 1)

“Amira, I’m going to walk over to Carmen’s for a bit. She needs help with her torticas de moron,” Rosarío shouted from the kitchen. “Please go get cleaned up! Oh, and check on dinner while I’m gone!”

“I will, Mama Rosa! I promise!” I yelled back as the side door shut behind her.

It didn’t take long after she left for Damien to pull into the driveway. I smiled, big and wide as he parked his car next to Rosarío’s, turned off the engine, and grabbed something from his passenger seat. Instinctively knowing it was probably something for me. I watched as he stepped out onto the pavement with a new doll firmly in his grasp, silently giggling to myself, I was right. He started bringing me gifts the day after I innocently shared that my papi use to do the same when he was away for work. Damien hadn’t realized I was thirteen and getting a little too old for dolls. But I would never tell him that.

The sentiment behind his reasoning being too important to him.

He leaned against the hood of his car, looking down at the ground, as if he needed a minute to gather himself before coming into the house. His long, curly hair hid his deep-set hazel eyes that always held so much emotion behind them. Over the years I’d grown to read what he was thinking, feeling, expressing all at first glance. He closed his eyes, shaking his head, and pushed off the car to walk toward the front door.

I would be lying if I said it didn’t seem like there were two sides to Damien. The man he was with us, and someone else entirely when he wasn’t. His personality was extremely somber and serious most of the time. Probably stemming from being a soldier and being raised by one too. His whole demeanor screamed military man, even the way he walked was stocky and abrasive.

Damien didn’t like to be teased, as harmless as it may be. He could do the teasing, but the second you turned it around on him, it was a different story. He’d get all butt-hurt about it, which only provoked me to do it more. I would mimic his stride when I knew he was watching me, just to make him laugh. I’d stand tall with my arms straight at my sides and a stern look on my face.

He’d try not to laugh until I would imitate his deep voice, saying random things like, “Hi, my name is Damien and I walk around like there’s a stick up my butt. I have no sense of humor. And all I want is for Amira to study, so she has the best education and grows up to be the smartest woman in the world. But she’s already smarter than I am, I just haven’t admitted it out loud yet.”

My teasing usually ended with him tickling me to the floor. Always using the fact that he was much bigger than me to his advantage. I’d call him a bully, and he’d call me a brat.

Rosarío would always reprimand me for acting silly and making fun of Damien, but I could see it in her eyes; she actually enjoyed seeing him laugh or smile because of my antics. Only confirming what I knew all along without me ever having to ask her. She’d been waiting all his life for someone besides her to care about him enough, to know there was more to him hidden beneath the fatigues, or what he thought he needed to be.

Whatever that was.

I jolted when I heard the front door slam a little harder than usual. Immediately looking down at the dictionary in my lap. Damien wanted me to be multi-lingual just like him. I was learning English, French, Portuguese, Italian, and Spanish. I thought I spoke Spanish correctly, so when Damien politely said it wasn’t the proper or educated way of speaking, I was a little embarrassed. I knew he wasn’t trying to hurt my feelings, he was aware the school I attended in El Campo wasn’t anywhere near as skilled as the tutor he hired for me. Charo was one of the most elite in Santiago—a sweet, older woman who reminded me a lot of Rosarío. Her hair was always pulled back in a bun, smelling like fresh baked goods. She studied in a European boarding school. A place where nuns lived, a monastery is what she called it.

Damien was very intense about my schooling, always expressing how important it was for me to have the finest education. Constantly encouraging me to reach above and beyond what was standard in knowledge, aptitude, and life in general. Saying it would make me a well-rounded young lady, which he felt Cuba needed more of.

Damien’s boots pounded against the floorboards with each step he took through the house. I sat up tall, smiling, eagerly waiting for him to enter the living room and greet me in whatever language he wanted to practice that day, like he always did. But instead, he walked in and tossed the doll on the couch near me, not saying a word. My smile quickly faded as soon as I looked up from my studies to meet his gaze, and he suddenly turned his back to me. Leaving the room without so much as acknowledging me for the first time ever and made his way toward the kitchen.

I jerked back, confused.

Did I do something wrong? Was he mad that I wasn’t really studying?

I waited for a few seconds before I stood and grabbed my new doll, following after him. Anxiously needing to know what was going on, thinking maybe I misinterpreted things. Nothing about the way he was acting was normal. I slowed my pace the closer I got to the kitchen, each step calculated and precise. My heart was racing a mile a minute, the closer I got to crossing the threshold into the unknown. Never in a million years did I ever expect to encounter…

The other side of Damien Montero.

When I walked through the swinging doors, he was standing in front of the stove with his back to me.

I didn’t waver. “Hey, tout va bien?” I asked in French, “Hey, is everything alright?” Trying to maintain our normal, calm routine. Silently hoping it would make him smile, knowing he loved it when I showed him how much I was perfecting another language.

“Amira, how many times do I have to tell you not to leave the fucking stove on?” he snapped in a tone he had never used with me before.

I winced, completely caught off guard by his demeanor. “I didn’t… Mama Rosa did. She went—”

“I don’t give a fuck where she went!” He slammed the wooden spoon on the counter, causing his back to tense and his muscles to constrict.

My eyes widened, and my body jolted again. Stunned by the drastic turn of events with his dominant, demanding, controlling presence looming over the stove.

“When I tell you to do something, I expect you to fucking listen to me,” he ordered in an eerie tone, making my lip quiver and my body tense.

I shook my head back and forth. “I… I … I do. I al—”

He abruptly turned around, rendering me speechless and was over to me in three strides, ripping the doll out of my hand. Still not fully looking at me, he spewed, “I don’t want to hear your bullshit excuses. You can’t do anything right, can you? Your pronunciation is horrible, have you even been studying? I’m not paying to have the most prestigious tutor in Cuba, if you’re going to fuck off!”

“Damien…” I gasped, taken back.

Where was the person I would catch up on every last detail of my day with? The man who seemed to look forward to our conversations as much as I did, like they were the best part of his day too. Where he’d nod his head or grin when I’d say something amusing, which was often. All while he listened intently to everything I had to share. It didn’t matter how trivial or unimportant it was. It meant something to him, because it meant something to me.

And to a thirteen-year-old girl, that meant everything.

I wanted him to fully face me. Look into his eyes like I had done so many times before, knowing they would show me everything I needed to see. But I was terrified of the man who’d be staring back at me. Adrenaline and fear surged through my veins. The thought alone caused shivers to course down my spine. I shuddered at the mere thought of making that connection.

“What?!” he roared, flexing his hands into fists at his side. His knuckles turning white from the pressure of his grip.

I should’ve run out of the room, but the expression on his face held me captive to the ground beneath me.

“Jesus Christ, Amira. Were you this needy with your papi? Always up his ass, begging for more fucking attention? Don’t I give you enough of that already? All I

do is provide for you! Bring you gifts, help you study, put food on the table, and a roof over your head. I’m exhausted tending to all your needs! It’s like I’m raising a child, and I didn’t even fucking get laid! I didn’t ask for this life!” he viciously spat, stepping toward me. I instinctively stepped back in fear, only fueling his fury. “And you still haven’t fucking thanked me for your gift! Why don’t you just go run along and play with all your precious goddamn dolls that I’ve paid for.”

He threw my new doll at my feet, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Oh my God! Who are you?” I blurted, already knowing the answer.

His gaze finally met mine, except it wasn’t his kind eyes staring back at me.

They weren’t familiar.

They weren’t comforting.

They. Weren’t. Damien’s.

I wasn’t just imagining it. It wasn’t a figment of my mind. I’d never seen this stare before, at least not on him. They were dark and daunting, empty and evil. Only reminding me of the man who took my life away.

The monster…

“Better yet,” he added, cocking his head to the side. Narrowing his deviant gaze at me. “Why don’t you go run and hide. That seems to be the only thing you’re fucking good at.”

The forceful blow from his words almost knocked me on the floor, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

Winded from his actions.

Choking from his words.

All the air from my lungs ceased to exist, evaporating from the pain.

“I’m sor—”

“Now!”

I did.

I ran on pure emotion and terror, unable to get away from him fast enough. Trying to seek shelter anywhere I could. I didn’t even realize where I was running to until I tried to open the front door. Only to have it unexpectedly slammed shut from behind me.

“Amira—”

I didn’t have to wonder who it was. Not allowing him to get another malicious word out, I took off again. Running toward my bedroom this time. I barely made it five strides down the hallway before he grabbed ahold of my arm, hauling me backward to face him.

Instinctively, I fought to get free. “Let go!” I shouted, struggling to get away from him, but he wasn’t having it. He grabbed my other wrist, tugging me forward, making me lose my footing. Slamming me into his hard chest. “Stop it! You’re scaring me! Please, just stop it!” I pleaded, my trembling voice breaking with each word that left my mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, instantly letting me go.

I stumbled, tripping over my feet, trying to regain my balance, when a strong arm wrapped around my waist. Catching me before I face-planted into the wall. Damien held me steady.

“Muñeca,” he immediately coaxed in a familiar voice, like he knew I desperately needed to hear it. Causing me to intuitively peer up at him through my lashes.

We locked eyes.

Neither one of us said a word, we didn’t have to.

The intensity surging through our connection in that moment was as captivating to him as it was to me. We were both standing there, breathing profusely. My heart pounding so hard in my chest that I swear he could hear it. Both of us lost in our own thoughts.

He knew what I was doing.

What I was looking for.

What I needed to see.

Only adding to the plaguing emotions that were placed in between us. A hint of darkness still remained in his honey-colored stare as if he was trying to break through the demons haunting him.

Battle his way back to me.

It seemed like seconds, minutes, hours went by where our silence spoke volumes even though nothing escaped, our lips. I could physically feel his thoughts raging war in his mind with no end in sight.

When he opened his mouth to say something, the front door opened, cutting him off, and Rosarío walked in. “I’m sorry I took so long. You know Carmen, once she starts talki—” She stopped dead in her tracks, taking in the scene in front of her. “What’s going on?” she questioned, glancing from him to me, down to his hands that were still holding onto me.

I didn’t hesitate, shoving off his chest, breaking his grasp on my hips, and stepping back and away from him, blurting, “Ask this imposter, maybe he won’t treat you like you’re nothing but a burden.”

He grimaced. It was quick, but I saw it. With that, I spun around and left, walking back to my room.

“Amira, what—”

“Let her go, Rosarío. Just let her be,” I overheard Damien interrupt her, as I slammed my door shut behind me.

Once it was closed, I leaned against the cool wood, taking a solid, deep breath. Refusing to cry, even though I was beyond hurt and confused. The fear I felt subsided, replaced with something I never felt before. I don’t know how long I sat there, dazed and confused by his behavior.

Did he really mean those things? Was I too needy? Did I not do anything right?

I crept up off the floor with my heart aching and my mind burning. My reflection in my vanity mirror only made me sadder. I peered around the room at all the dolls on the shelves that he had gifted me over the years. Along with the shelves lined with nothing but books of stories that use to bring me so much happiness. There wasn’t one thing in this room that Damien hadn’t given me.

“All I do is provide for you! I’m exhausted tending

to all your needs! I didn’t ask for this life!”

His cruel, but true, words echoed in my mind. He didn’t ask for this life…

He didn’t ask for me.

I was his obligation, and that was the harshest reality of all. I took one last look around the room before I grabbed a bag from under my bed and threw it on the comforter. Opening my drawers and closet, only grabbing a few necessities I would need. My eyes blurred with tears every time I shoved another piece of me into the suitcase. Thinking how I would never see him or Rosarío again.

“All I do is provide for you! I’m exhausted tending to all your needs! I didn’t ask for this life!”

I repeated it over and over again in my mind, letting it sink into my soul. Fueling my determination to leave them both behind. I didn’t know where I would go, but I wouldn’t stay somewhere I wasn’t wanted.

It wasn’t fair to him.

To either of them.

I zipped my bag and pulled it off the bed, quietly opening my bedroom door to get to the bathroom, and grab a few last things.

“Damien, you have to stop blaming yourself for what happened. Amira knows it wasn’t your fault,” Rosarío declared, stopping me mid-stride as I was about to walk into the bathroom.

I tip-toed down the hallway, hiding behind the wall. Peering through the crack of the kitchen’s swinging doors so they wouldn’t know I was eavesdropping. I still hadn’t learned I wasn’t supposed to do that.

He scoffed, shaking his head while he stood in front of her. Rosarío was sitting in one of the island chairs.

“Only because she doesn’t know any better. I fucking lost my shit on her today, Rosarío. I screamed at her. I scared her. I was maliciously cruel for no fucking reason, other than the fact that I couldn’t shut it off. The man I am, the same man I vowed to never let her see,” he countered, disgusted with himself. He started to pace the kitchen floor, tugging his hair back away from his face in a frustrated gesture like he wanted to rip it out. “I fucked up. I should’ve never come over tonight. I fucking knew it, but I was selfish. I wanted to see her. I needed to see her.”

“Damien, that’s not you. She knows that’s not—”

“That. Is. Me,” he argued, halting in place and sternly looked over at her. “What do you think I do every day, eh? You know whom I serve. You know what I am. Don’t play dumb, Rosarío, you’re no fucking good at it.”

“Did you ever stop and think that you aren’t like them? That you—”

“You mean before or after I took part in murdering her family?” he callously relayed, leaning against the counter with his arms folded across his chest. The impact of his

words caused me to wince back in pain. His revelation and guilt weren't a surprise to me, but it still hurt to hear him admit it out loud.

“You know it as much as I do… She’s not a little girl anymore. The older she gets, the more she’s going to learn the truth. One day soon, I won’t be the man who saved her. I’ll just be another fucking monster that haunts her dreams.”

I grimaced, not expecting him to say that. His response made my heart hurt for him. Probably in the same way his heart always hurt for mine.

Rosarío sighed, taking a deep breath. “She was never a little girl, Damien. She’s already seen and gone through too much for her age. It’s made her grow up faster. But you want to know what I see? I see her laugh and smile with you, more than I ever do with anyone else. Including me. She plays, she runs, she acts like the carefree young girl she’s supposed to be. When she’s with you… she feels safe. That girl doesn’t hate you for anything, it’s the exact opposite. She loves you, and you love her too. You love her so much that it terrifies you that one day, she may not look at you the same way. Not because you’re a monster, but because you made her think you’re one by pushing her away.”

He didn’t hesitate, his kind eyes shifted toward the door I was hiding behind. Like he could sense I was standing there the whole time. “Muñeca, if you’re going to eavesdrop, you should make sure your shadow can’t be seen under the doors.”

I groaned, feeling apprehensive that I got caught, but I quickly shook it off. Confidently walking into the kitchen to face them. Both their eyes simultaneously went to the bag I was holding in my hands. The realization of what I was going to do swiftly replaced the concerned expressions on their faces.

Damien didn’t falter, not that I expected him to. “How far do you think you would’ve made it, Muñeca, before I found you? You think I would ever let you walk out that door? Let you leave so that something bad happens to you? I couldn’t live with myself, knowing I was the cause. For four years, I’ve made it a point to never let anything harm you. You’re mine, Amira. My responsibility. I can't imagine you’d think I would ever allow you to run away. You have to know that. Tell me you know that.”