“You came to smash shit up,” I repeat, nodding a little as I casually saunter toward them. “And you chose a church. Of all places to do it.”
“You were here,” Batboy says.
“Oh, so it is me you’re after,” I retort, narrowing my eyes. “You know, we could’ve taken this outside so the church would remain intact, and done it the easy way. No one would get hurt.”
“No one?” Batboy laughs.
“Except you,” Gunboy says, laughing too.
I smile at them. “Keep saying that to yourself, and you might start to believe it. After I kick your asses into next week.”
“Ha … funny you’d say that,” Gunboy says, pointing his gun at me. “Too bad only one of us is carrying a gun.”
“Is that supposed to compensate for something smaller?” I jest, looking up and down his small frame. When I see his face contort, I grin, and he comes at me.
Guess I’ve gone and done it now.
They picked the wrong preacher to mess with, though.
Right when he’s in front of me and his gun is in reach, I push his arm aside with a flat hand. The gun goes off, and a bullet ricochets off the wall before landing on the floor. I quickly grasp his wrist and force him to drop it.
He squeals in pain, and then his buddy rushes at me with his bat out like it’s some kind of giant meat-stick.
Kicking Gunboy in his balls and then smashing his face against my knee, I push him aside and grasp the bat before it hits my face, holding him back with sheer will. I might be a little bit drunk, but that doesn’t make me weak … It only makes me more of an asshole.
I push it back so hard it smashes into his forehead, leaving him dazed.
Meanwhile, Gunboy gets up without his gun and starts punching the air, trying to hit me. I’m avoiding both easily, and I laugh while I do it.
“Too slow!” I joke, getting on their nerves.
I can tell. Their faces are bloating and turning red like a hot air balloon. Looks great.
Batboy tries again, and this time, I manage to snatch it away from him. I smack it right into his ankles, breaking one of them. He whimpers and falls to the ground, crying like a little bitch, while his tiny-dicked friend is still trying to punch me. This time, he even throws in some kicks, trying to hit me with all four limbs like he’s some kind of martial arts expert. It looks silly, to be honest.
Like they saw some shit on TV and decided they could do it themselves.
No.
Real fighting happens on the streets. You don’t learn it from a one-day course, and you certainly don’t fucking learn it from watching it on TV.
You learn it by fighting.
Day in and day out.
We don’t fight fair here. Rules don’t apply to criminals. We fight while carrying our life on our sleeves. We fight with our heart out and with death breathing down our necks.
Just like I’m doing right now.
I throw away the bat because I hate using weapons. I’d much rather use my own fists.
With one quick punch to the gut and another one between his eyes, I manage to knock him to the floor. He tries to get up again, but I know he’s dizzy because that’s exactly what that move is for. So I stomp on his belly so hard he almost throws up.
Meanwhile, Batboy’s crawling out on one leg, still whimpering like a little baby.
“Where you going?” I growl, marching toward him. I lean over and grasp him by his hair, pulling his head up. “Think you can run away?” I burst out into laughter. “Oh, wait … can’t run when your bones are crushed, can you?”
I stomp on his broken ankle, and he cries out in pain.
“Hurts, doesn’t it? You know what else hurts? Breaking shit in my damn church!” I smack his face down against the floor, hoping he bleeds.
Then I turn my attention toward his buddy, who’s attempting to flee by running past the left side of the pews. “Yeah, you run to whoever sent you. Tell him I’ll be waiting right here. And I expect payment for the destruction of property!”
“Don’t leave me!” Batboy yells at his buddy, but he ignores him.
“Aww … there goes your boyfriend,” I muse. “Must be tough seeing him give no fucks about your life.”
“Shut up!” he yells. He turns around to face me while still crawling away on his two hands like that will work.
I grab his throat with both hands, and he claws at my wrists to try to breathe properly. “Listen, you little shit, who are you and your buddy and what are you doing here?”
“Can’t breathe …” he chokes out.
“Then try harder!” I growl, getting up close with him as I sit down on top of him.
“We’re no one …”
“Of course, you’re no one, but someone sent you,” I say, squeezing harder.
He whispers, “Julio …”
The mere mention of his name makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand.
Julio. ‘El Campeón.’ The brawler. Rumor had it he killed a thousand men with his bare hands, hundreds of those with just two fingers. Of course, those are rumors … but terrifying nonetheless.
He’s also the man who killed my wife.
“Why?” I hiss back. “After everything he took from me, he’s still not done?”
He still struggles under my grasp. “Because he wants you gone.”
“Why? He would’ve done it sooner if he just wanted me gone!” I smack him harder to the floor. “Didn’t he want me to suffer? Huh? Tell me!”
He softly hisses, “You’re hanging out with his daughter.”
My eyes widen, and my gaze instantly darts to Laura, who comes out of her hiding spot behind the chapel wall. Her eyes bore into me. If only she could hear his words.
Or maybe it’s better that she doesn’t.
Laura Espino … Julio Espino’s daughter.
I can barely believe it, yet it all makes sense.
She said she was on the run. Maybe he’s tracking her. It would explain why she doesn’t want to discuss her family. And then his lackeys saw me with her, and now, he wants me dead.
Of course … because I could use her against him.
As the realization dawns, I loosen my grip on my victim, and he immediately pushes me off him, scrambling away on one foot. But I don’t care anymore. I know he won’t show up here again. He’s learned his lesson the hard way. Working for Julio and fighting me will give you broken bones, that’s what.
He scrambles while my attention focuses on Laura.
I’ve been staring at a ghost of my past this entire time, dancing with fate itself.
She’s his daughter. A girl he loves most dearly.
And it would be the world’s worst pain to him if she died.
If…
Would I ever be able to?
Am I that person? The one who wants vengeance so badly he’d even kill the only girl who gave him his spirit back?
Slowly, but surely, Laura comes walking toward me, but I’m not sure I’m prepared. The choice between good and evil is currently dividing me into pieces. I don’t want to lose her … but to see that motherfucker’s tears is my dying wish.
How do I look at her the same way without feeling that pain?
“Those guys … What did they want? Why did they trash this place?” she inquires.
Grinding my teeth, I hiss, “Please don’t …”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t come closer.”
She frowns in confusion. “Why?”
“They were after me,” I say.
“So?” She still tries to come closer, but I take a step back. “Why are you acting this way? Just because you hurt them? I don’t care about any of that.”
“It’s not that,” I growl, taking a deep breath.
She stares at me, the flame in her eyes growing weaker. “Those guys … I knew I recognized them from somewhere.” She grabs herself like she wants to hug herself instead of me. “They work for him … but you already know that, don’t you? That�
��s why they were after you.”
She’s so smart. Too smart for her own good.
“My father wants you.”
“It’s complicated,” I say, swallowing away the lump in my throat.
“He must’ve found out about us.” She rubs her lips together. “He always hated seeing me with a man. And I hated his controlling urges.” She sighs. “But that doesn’t have to come between us. He can’t decide who I’m with. That’s not up to him.”
I don’t reply. I don’t know how or what I should say. She doesn’t even know the full story. The real reason for our mutual hatred.
“Can’t we—”
“Please … just leave,” I say, looking away.
“Frank …”
“I can’t,” I say. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”
“I know my father is an asshole, but that doesn’t mean you have to let him win and—”
“That’s not why I’m asking you to leave,” I interject, staring straight at her. Her teary eyes make me weak. Malleable. And it crushes me.
If anything could break me, she could.
“Tell me why?” she asks. “At least give me a reason.”
“You’re better off not knowing some things,” I mutter. “But right now, I really wanna be left alone.”
She grimaces. “If that’s what you want.”
It pains me to see her turn her back to me and walk out.
Not soon after, Mother approaches me from behind and places a hand on my shoulder. “She’ll be back.”
“I don’t know if I want her to come back.”
“Yes, you do. I know what you feel. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”
I glance at her over my shoulder. “She’s his daughter.”
Her lips quirk up into a soft smile. “Love knows no bounds.”
And just like that, she’s managed to completely unhinge me.
Her wise words always manage to dig deep into my skin and make me rethink my resolve.
Even if I wanted to, just to see the look on his face, I could never kill her.
Even if it means he and his men will kill me first.
But if she only knew the truth … she’d kill me herself.
16
Nine years ago
I’m the bad guy.
I knew that when I began dealing, and I know it now.
I know full well what I chose when I signed up for it. When I decided to shake people down and beat them up just for a bit of money. When I began to kill.
I knew every step of the way that I was as bad as could be, but I didn’t care. Never do.
All I wanted was recognition. Someone to tell me that I finally made it. That I was the guy who they all wanted.
Except it’s never enough.
Nothing I do will ever make this gang happy.
They’ll always want more, more, more. To the point of making me do the impossible. Something unspeakable. Something that creates a point of no return.
That one night … when I broke my own rules … that was when I turned my back on the gang.
The moment a woman crossed my path. A woman who didn’t know any better. A woman who wasn’t supposed to be there.
Yet she was.
And the moment I pulled the trigger, I already knew I made the biggest mistake of my life.
I didn’t want her to die. It was never part of the plan.
But I was always taught to protect myself at all cost. To shoot before you look. To eliminate the threat before it even exists.
But she was never a threat.
She was simply … there.
An unlucky chance of fate.
It was her house I was robbing, but I was told no one would be home. And when I found out I wasn’t, I fired a shot without even looking to see who it was.
A fatal mistake.
It was a woman.
And she was pregnant.
In my shame, I ran to her body and began to pump her chest in the hopes of bringing her back to life, but it was to no avail. She never even breathed. Not a single whimper. Except the one coming from me.
I tucked my gun back into its holster and grabbed her arms, dragging her out of the room. I hauled her all the way back to my car and shoved her inside. In the dead of night, I drove with tears streaming down my face.
There were two golden rules. Never kill a woman and never hurt a child. And I did both.
My mistake will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Ten minutes.
That’s how much time has passed between then and now as I park my car in an alley and pull the body out. A trail of blood flows on the ground as I haul her body across the road. I don’t know what to do. Where to go.
I can’t go back to the gang. It’s done. It’s over.
I’ve hurt enough people and caused enough pain.
This is where I crossed the line, and I refuse to go back.
But I have no friends. No family. No one to go to for help.
Except for one place.
The church where I grew up. The same place I’m hauling a dead body to right now.
But the closer I get, the more my guilt weighs down on my soul, and dragging her feels more difficult with every step I take. How can I ever make this right?
In these past few years, I’ve lost touch with myself. With the church and Margaret. And with God.
How can I ever face Him now?
And still, somehow, for some reason, I find the will to persist as I haul the dead pregnant woman up the slippery stairs of the church.
Rain falls down on my face as I fight to get her to the top, but I don’t give up. Not until I’m right in front of the door where I collapse in agony over what I’ve done. My breathing is ragged and my muscles hurt, but it’s nothing compared to my heart.
At least I can be sure the rain will wash away any trail of the blood.
I bang on the wooden door as hard as I can, like a final cry for help, and within minutes, my prayer is answered.
As the door opens and light pours out, inviting me in like the end of a tunnel leading to heaven, I stare up into the face of judgment.
“Help me … please …” I mutter, tears and rain streaming down my face.
At first, Margaret’s silent as she eyeballs the woman in my arms.
But then she closes her eyes, sighs, and holds out her hand.
I gratefully take it, and she helps me up from the ground. Together, we drag the body into the church, and she slams the doors shut. When she turns, she takes a deep breath and asks, “What did you do?”
I shake my head and whisper, “I’m so sorry, Mother. I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Is she alive?” she asks, approaching me and the body.
“No.”
She sighs again, looking back and forth between me and the body.
“It must be kept a secret. Someone will come looking for her.”
“I know,” she says, and she passes me. “Come.”
I quickly grasp the body by the arms and drag it all the way with me as I follow her to the back of the church and then outside. I place the body on the frigid ground and let out a few breaths.
Suddenly, Carl appears in the doorway, staring at us and the body.
A moment of silence passes, and I wonder if he’s going to run and call the cops.
“Help us …” I mutter.
He licks his lips, glances over his shoulder, and then rushes toward me.
I breathe a sigh of relief as Mother grabs two shovels from a shed in the far end of the yard and hands one to each of us.
“Dig.” Her voice stern, as I remember it to be.
Without question, I take it and start digging a hole together with Carl.
I don’t complain.
I ignore the pain.
I refuse to cry or get mad.
After all, I did this. I should be the one to carry the burden.
Under Mother’s watch, we dig a hole deep enough to bury the body and
cover it with earth. The same place where I’ll bury my sins and keep them hidden forever.
Right before her hand disappears into the ground, I quickly grasp the ring that was on her finger, and I put it on my own finger. I need to wear this as a reminder of what I’ve done. So I’ll never forget this body lying here in the ground.
When it’s done, I place the shovel in the dirt and stare at the soil in front of us. The woman is gone, but this night will always remain.
I gaze at Mother and then at Carl.
“This will be our secret,” I say. “You know that, right?”
Carl nods.
“If you go to the police now, you’re an accomplice. You helped me bury her.”
“I know,” he says. “But I’ll always help you.”
I nod. Even after all these years, he’s still fiercely loyal. The little boy who grew up to be quite the reliable kid. Surprising, to say the least. And now we’re bound to each other.
“You will never go back to those people,” Margaret suddenly snaps, her arms folded. “Understood?”
I nod, looking her straight in the eyes. I don’t want to insult her by looking away even though I fear her judgment more than anything in this entire world.
“You belong to this church. Agreed?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Good. Because this is one debt you won’t easily fulfill. But you can begin by cleaning up the blood.” She points at the trail behind me, leading all the way back into the church.
I lick my lips and nod again. I’m not going to go against her wishes. I fucked up, and she saved me yet again.
After all this time, all these fuck-ups, the betrayal … and she still helped me.
There’s no way I can ever repay her for that.
But I will try.
I will try with every last breath in my lungs and beating of my heart.
I will work toward gaining her trust.
I will learn to love this church and God once more.
After forsaking this church for so long only for a bit of recognition, I owe that to her. To myself. To God.
I will repent.
Now
My eyes open and I’m instantly awake. God, what an awful nightmare.
Sighing, I look at the clock. No use in going back to sleep because it will be time to wake up soon. Besides, I hate to bring up more memories, and they always come when I go to sleep sober.
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