El Santo

by M. Robinson

  He was trying to portray our interrogation as some sort of power struggle that day. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t fucking amused by his disposition. The motherfucker hadn’t been cooperating, not even with the electrocution or the depravation of food for weeks at a time. Making him starve until he was all skin and fucking bones. Fatigued as fuck from the daily beatings, the hard labor, and the solitary confinement.

  None of it was working. So I decided to bring him a gift.

  I grinned, placing my gun down on the table with the barrel pointing directly at him, setting the black box beside it. Nonchalantly unbuttoning my military jacket before taking a seat on the opposite side of him. I leaned back into my wooden chair, making myself comfortable. Noticing his eyes hadn’t wavered from the package, not even for a second. I didn’t pay him any mind, wanting the anticipation to build. Knock the motherfucker down a few notches before delivering my final blow.

  “What did you think, Vicente? That you were going to be a brave soldier? Out to do away with the revolution? With Salazar? Attempting to go against your government, against your country. Against your own people… Killing true soldiers who were fighting for their revolution.”

  He didn’t hesitate, confessing, “Absolutely. I’d do it again, if I had another chance,” he spat with a sadistic grin spread across his face.

  I leaned into the table, arching my eyebrow with my hands clasped together out in front of me. “A real man would’ve gotten the job done the first time. He wouldn’t need another chance.”

  He shrugged, biting his lower lip.

  “Your anti-communistic way of life didn’t do shit for you, except land your ass in prison. You’re a poor excuse of a man. You failed everyone, Vicente. The conspirators you organized this attack with, your régime.” I paused, allowing my words to sink in. “Not to mention your family.”

  “My fami—”

  “You’re nothing but a disgrace to our country. To your children’s children. I highly doubt your kids could even look upon their old man with pride in their eyes, knowing he’s a fucking failure. Rotting behind bars. Your parents are probably rolling over in their graves in shame.”

  His fists clenched, his nostrils flared, and his face paled. My words clearly affecting him, far worse than any physical torture I could ever inflict. My job was to demoralize Vicente, a task I executed with joy. Breaking a man lifted me in ways I never thought possible. It empowered my rage, making me feel like fucking God. Superior to him and all the others who attempted attacks against our country.

  “I did… I’m… that’s not…” he stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. His ego eating him alive.

  “You’ve done your country wrong, Vicente. It’s a good thing there’s no mirrors in this hell hole. I’d hate to be you and have to look at myself every fucking day, knowing I’m nothing but a piece of shit. The bottom of the barrel. Fuck, it all makes sense now, no wonder why your wife didn’t put up too much of a fight. She’d been waiting for a real man to come along all her life.”

  He jerked back, breathing out, “My wife?” His manic thoughts taking over.

  I slid the box across the table, hitting his arm that was resting on the surface; it stopped a few inches away from his face. His head flew back startled, locking eyes with me. I could see his anxiety radiating off him, fueling the fiend inside of me.

  He swallowed hard, holding his chin up higher. Acting unfazed.

  Provoking me.

  “I bring you a gift, and I have yet to hear you thank me,” I mocked in a condescending tone, breaking the sudden silence.

  “A gift?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. Confused and overwhelmed all at once.

  “Did I stutter? Go ahead, open it.”

  He hesitated for a moment before reaching out his trembling hands to grab the box. The panic dwelling inside of him with each passing second. No longer the tough son-of-a-bitch he once portrayed.

  As he started to lift the lid, I added, “Someone once told me the only way to make a man pay for his sins was through the ones he loved the most.”

  “What the fuck?” he murmured in shock, grabbing the severed female finger from the box. Immediately recognizing the wedding band prominently on display.

  His mouth quivered, and his body shook. I saw him swallowing down the bile rising in his throat. I imagined the memories of his wedding day were too much for him to bear. The emotions from seeing his beautiful bride walking down the aisle were flooding back. I could see it in his eyes, it was one memory right after the other. It was crazy how much significance one small finger could have. He was visibly shutting down.

  It was time to break him entirely.

  “I know how much you miss her. Aren’t you going to thank me now?”

  His chest heaved with anger as he threw the finger back into the box and shoved it away. Quickly making the sign of the cross with his shackled wrists.

  I stood, placing my hands in my pockets. Casually making my way over to him. “The only god in this room, is me. Now confess the names I want, or I’ll be paying your wife another visit. Only next time, it will be her fucking head in that box.”

  “Maria… no… please, God, no…” He bowed his head with the shame and regret I wanted him to feel.

  “Don't worry, she didn't scream too much,” I sympathized, leaning forward close to his ear. “Not with my cock in her mouth.”

  “You motherfuc—”

  I crudely gripped onto his throat, jerking him backward in his chair. Slamming his body onto the ground near my boots. I held him down. “That’s the thanks I get for bringing you a piece of your wife?”

  He instantly grasped onto my hand, kicking his legs out from under him. I choked him harder, placing my knee on his sternum, squeezing the air right out of him. His face turned red and his eyes began to water as his life was being drained out of him.

  By me.

  “Someone needs to learn some goddamn manners, and lucky for you…” I hovered close to his face. “I’m just the man to teach you.” And with that I cold-cocked him, knocking him the fuck out.

  He came to when I was dragging his soaking wet body, by his collar, out of the lake behind the prison. Convulsing, sucking in the air I was ruthlessly denying him. Choking on the water that took up occupancy in his throat and lungs. Spitting up god knows what. He staggered to find his balance, falling to his knees on the murky shore. His hands being cuffed behind his back, along with his ankles, didn’t help his current predicament.

  I ignored him as he visibly struggled, trying to get loose. Confused by the turn in events. Still not realizing he wasn’t going anywhere unless I wanted him to. There was nowhere else I’d rather have him than at my mercy. I waited until he tired himself out. Until there was no fight left in him, and all he could do was roll over and play fucking dead. I was used to the hysteria that came along with my violent acts. It was all part of the job.

  I leaned forward, close to his ear again. Cocking my head to the side, I rasped, “Give me the names.”

  He heaved, his chest rising and falling with each second that passed. Desperately trying to regain his breathing and stay conscious.

  “I didn’t hear you,” I taunted. This time grabbing ahold of his neck, shoving just his face back into the water. Holding him under as his body fought to get free.

  As I hauled him back up, he choked out, “My Lord and Savior!”

  I viciously smiled, bringing his face right in front of mine to glare into his eyes. “How’s that working out for you? Where the fuck is he now?”

  His dark pools met mine, spewing, “You’re going to rot in Hell for this.”

  “I’m already there, motherfucker.”

  “I did what I had to do! I killed those soldiers for the good of our people! Anyone who stands by Emilio Salazar deserves to die!”

  “Is that right?” I chuckled, dragging him back under the water. Holding him down longer that time. Watching his air bubbles come few and far between. I waited, not allowing
the traitor to die. Drowning him over and over again to the brink of death, till his body pleaded with me to end it all.

  “Please…” he whispered, trying to catch his breath.

  “Please, what?”

  “Please… have compassion…”

  “Compassion for a man who murdered five of my men? Eye for an eye, motherfucker. You reap what you sow. You have one last chance to confess names, or my next stop will be your house. I’ll just wait till your daughters are home this time. I always wanted to fuck sisters,” I deviously chuckled, feeling his heart pounding against my grip on his neck. His nostrils flared while his mind reeled with uncertainty. “Count with me, one… two… times up!”

  “Maur… his name is… Maur… Mauricio! His name is Mauricio Gonzalez!” he screamed out then spit in my face.

  I abruptly let him go, causing him to sink further into the water. He froze, waiting for my next move. I looked him in the eyes and nodded toward the guard, silently ordering him to get out of my face.

  “Are you—”

  “If I wanted to have a conversation, I would’ve asked you a question. Go!”

  He breathed a sigh of relief, cautiously backing away from me, getting out of the water. Turning around once he was on the shore and walking toward Federico, the guard.

  At the last second, I called out, “Vicente!” He spun back around as I slowly wiped his spit off my cheek with the back of my hand. His eyes instantly widened, realizing what I was now holding.

  Tilting my head to the side with dark and dilated eyes, I reminded him, “You never fucking thanked me.” Pulling the trigger, I blew his head off.

  Splattering his blood and brains behind him in the sand. Immediately taking him to join all the other souls I collected in this very place.

  “Another one? Jesus, man. Can’t we keep any of them alive?” Federico nonchalantly laughed.

  “Someone had to teach him some manners,” I stated as I made my way out of there. It was close to dinnertime, and I needed to get to Amira before six; that was our daily routine more often than not.

  This motherfucker made me lose track of time, and I hated to keep her waiting. Worrying something bad may have happened to me. She was the only light in my life, but she wasn’t a little girl anymore. No longer a child I could lie to. She was thirteen, and the older she got, the easier it was for her to read through my bullshit excuses. I started to make it a point that the only time she saw me was when I knew my demons were at bay.

  When I could be the person she needed. The one who saved her, took care of her, and protected her. Yet to acknowledge that I was one of the men who tore her world apart. She was expecting me, but I was taking a gamble on who would show up for her. I contemplated that before I even got into my car.

  Amira was the only penance I had.

  Eternally battling the hell I was already burning in.

  I sat on the ledge of my reading nook in the living room, with my back against the comfy pillows and Yuly at my side. Failing miserably to stay focused on the task at hand. Homework. My mind dancing from one random thought to another.

  “Amira, Mamita, you’ve sat by that window every evening at five o’clock for the past four years. Do you really think I believe you’re studying?” Rosarío asked with humor in her tone.

  I smiled sweetly, peering up at her. “I am studying, Mama Rosa. I just happen to like sitting in the sun while I do so.”

  She nonchalantly nodded to the window beside me, stating the obvious, “It’s raining and gloomy out today.”

  “Oh, yeah... I knew that. This is just my routine. You know how I am, a creature of habit. I like things to stay consistent and stuff. That’s all.”

  She arched an eyebrow, cocking her head to the side. “I may be old, but I’m not stupid, Amira. I know you’re waiting for Damien. You claimed that as your spot since the first day Damien brought you home. Why do you think he built this nook for you? He knows you will always be waiting for him. It brings him comfort.”

  I smiled wider. It brought me comfort waiting for him too. Damien built the space for me three years ago for my tenth birthday, after he caught me waiting for him by the window one evening. It was a cozy little niche with a cushioned bench that overlooked the front yard. It quickly became my favorite place to curl up with a blanket and pretend to study. This time, I had my English dictionary open in my lap, pretending to practice the words my tutor, Charo, assigned me to work on over the weekend. Absentmindedly trying to remember the last word I read for the tenth time, but I couldn’t.

  My mind was somewhere else entirely.

  “You’re not old. You’re only forty-two. And you’re beautiful, Mama Rosa. You don’t look a day over thirty.”

  “Oh, bless your heart, sweet child. Wise beyond your years, I tell you. Though I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Mamita, but Damien may not come today.”

  “He’ll be here. He comes most days, and besides, he always tells me when he can’t because of work,” I said, cringing at the fact that Damien still had to work for the monster.

  She smirked, shaking her head. “Whatever you say. Finish up your day-dreaming about Damien, and go get washed up for dinner. I made your favorite.” Rosarío kissed my forehead and walked out of the living room, whispering something under her breath I couldn’t make out.

  To be fair it wasn’t only Damien preoccupying my thoughts. All of a sudden, I was feeling nostalgic. For some reason that day, I couldn’t help but remember how the first year had been the hardest for me here. How adjusting to my new life without my family was an experience I never imagined I would have to go through. Damien spent every second he could, keeping me company. He stayed with me as much as possible, making sure I was well cared for mentally, physically, and emotionally. Doing his best to tend to my needs, wanting to make the transition easier on me. He was the best listener too. I couldn’t count how many nights he spent with me on the porch swing out back, letting me tell him about my happy memories, or vent when I needed to. Though every time I talked about my family, I could see the pain in his kind eyes, and just as quickly as it appeared, he would blink and it would be gone.

  As much as I opened up to him about my family, he never let me in on his feelings. He had the perfect façade in place for four years now. It was like he had built a wall around his emotions concerning that night. There were no cracks, no slips. Nothing could bring it down, not even me. I knew deep in my heart he felt responsible for my family’s death. He carried this guilt around with him that weighed heavy like a wooden cross on his back. No matter how I saw it, the reality of the situation was, in his mind…

  Their three lives.

  Their three souls.

  Were a burden he would forever carry on his own.

  The night Damien entered my life was the best and worst day of my existence. I owed a lot to him for saving me. I knew he didn’t believe it or even understand it, but I never blamed him for my family’s deaths.

  Not once.

  It wasn’t his doing, he didn't orchestrate it. Emilio did. Damien played a part, but the alternative would’ve led to his death, and if he had died, I would have died too.

  So, he played the monster’s game, and we both made it out alive.

  Since then, Damien was a pillar in my life. He provided me with a safe and affectionate home, with a loving woman who was now like a mother to me. Rosarío always made me feel wanted and cared for as if I was her real daughter. From the moment I stepped foot into her house, she loved me. Always being there to comfort me when I needed to talk about my feelings or just cry. Which was typically over a big bowl of ice cream to drown my sorrows. She was adamant that food made everything better.

  Both of them would make me laugh and smile on a daily basis. Giving me hope when all I had was despair. They were the only two people I had left in this world. They meant everything to me. As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, and the months turned into years, I realized what Rosarío had told me the nigh
t we first spoke, couldn’t have been more accurate. They were my family now. They truly were the best thing that could have happened to me, after losing my own.

  Damien would spend the night at Rosarío’s often, instead of going back to his apartment. Somehow knowing I’d need to see a familiar face in the middle of the night, when my dreams turned into nightmares. He’d lay with me, playing with my hair or rubbing my back until I fell asleep again. Sometimes he couldn’t be here though, off fulfilling his obligations to the monster. On those nights, Rosarío would take his place, warming me up a glass of milk as I tried to shake off the emotions that my bad dreams usually evoked. Neither of them ever made me feel bad about disturbing their sleep, though.

  I hadn’t seen or heard from Emilio Salazar or any of his men since the night he murdered my entire family. Damien made sure to cover all the tracks, going as far as telling Rosarío’s neighbors and friends that I was her niece. Later in private, letting them know that my parents had unexpectedly died in a fire and she was now my guardian. Wanting to prevent any emotions the truth may invoke in me. I don’t know how Damien did it, but within the first few weeks he was able to provide me with a whole new identity. The only part of my past that remained the same was my name.

  Amira.

  He said it was the one thing he couldn’t take away from me. As far as Emilio and his men knew, I burned in the fire right alongside my family that night, and I guess in a way, I had. Damien didn’t just save me, he gave me a whole new life. One I would’ve never had the chance to live before. I had the best tutors and an education most people dreamed of, learning subjects I didn’t even know existed. I also had the nicest clothes, from dresses, to pants, to blouses and t-shirts. It was endless. Damien never allowed me to want for anything. Neither did Rosarío.