Chapter 7
SEVEN
JUDAS
It’s around eight at night when I drive to Nico’s place to get drunk, because there is no chance I can come home sober after a kiss like that.
She woke something in me I never thought existed.
And when she pushed me away, it only proved it was real.
I know she feels it, too. You can’t fake something like that.
I know this is impossible between us. I know Dad would never allow it to happen under his roof. And yet I still let it happen. I just can’t help myself around her.
I fuck around all the time. It never means anything. But with her, it’s different. I don’t want to own her body or use it. I want to possess her soul.
I sit on Nico’s sofa, the football match playing on the TV.
The crowd roars, the commentator shouts, but none of it reaches me.
All I can think about is how soft her skin felt between my fingers.
It makes me angry because I know she won’t let me come close to her again. She knows Dad would just blame her.
I laugh under my breath, staring at the floor, because if he only knew. Last month, I left her file out where he could see it.
I had gone into his office to get the keys to his Porsche, thinking about Ella and how impressed she would be.
I was already halfway out when Carmen’s file slipped from the stack and slid across the floor.
It opened when it landed. Photos. Dates.
Notes. I crouched down to pick it up and saw all the similarities.
The way her parents died mirrored mine almost perfectly.
They got murdered same way. Same unanswered questions left open.
Two cold cases, left to rot in folders. The only difference was that she got blamed.
Something tightened in my chest. I remember thinking I had finally found someone as broken as me.
I needed her closer. Not just for me. For all of us.
The day before I went there, I heard my parents fight late at night. Mom said she was lonely. Dad was always working. I was always gone. She said the house felt empty, like she had no purpose left. She said that if she had a girl at home, someone to take care of, she would feel useful again.
So I left the file where he would see it.
Carmen was sixteen, old enough. Perfect, really. Mom always said babies were too messy anyway. Too much work, too much noise.
Everything lined up. Too neatly to ignore.
Two forgotten tragedies walking into the same house.
Little sister, you have no idea that everything in your life is already planned. While they sat there mapping out my future, I was mapping out yours.
I will find a way to make you just mine.
The TV flickers and turns into static noise with no picture or sound.
I blink.
Nico walks in with a bowl of salsa for the nachos. It slips from his hands and crashes to the floor. Red sauce splashes everywhere. Over my shoes. Up my legs. Soaking into my black jeans.
He says something, but I can’t hear him.
The sight of it drags me back. I just blink, and I am seven again.
2005.
I woke up inside a glass cage.
Red light burned above me. It stained everything. My skin, the floor, the image of me staring back at myself from every side. Glass surrounded me. No doors. No corners. Just my own face multiplied.
I could hear slow footsteps somewhere beyond the glass walls.
Something tight circled my neck. It was black hard plastic. A collar with a green light that blinked against my throat.
I pressed my palms to the glass. It was cold. I opened my mouth, and the words tore out of me.
“Let me out. Let me out.”
The collar responded.
A sharp snap of pain moved through my neck. Electricity ripped down my spine, stole the strength from my limbs, and dropped me to the floor. My body slammed against the glass, then slid. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move.
I could just see the red light and glass beneath my cheek.
The man laughed.
I stared up at the red glow as a tear slipped from the corner of my eye and traced down toward my ear.
All I could think about was my parents. I saw them falling again, with their mouths open, throats sliced.
I couldn’t do anything to stop it. The news I watched earlier didn’t do anything for me.
The warning came too late. People see things like that on the news and think it will never happen to them.
But it could happen.
It happened to me.
“How is a boy so young that has no sound at all?” a man said.
His voice bounced off the glass.
“Show me,” he shouted. “Fight.”
I didn’t move.
I couldn’t.
Warmth spread down my legs. I peed myself and lay there in it, unable to move. I was afraid. So afraid.
If they died like that, would I die like that too? Would I see them again? Mom said good people go to heaven.
What if I wasn’t good?
What if I will never see them again?
I started to sob. Tears streamed down my face.
The man laughed. “Pathetic,” he said.
His hand slammed against the glass. I flinched so hard my neck burned where the collar was. He walked around the cage, clapping against the walls again and again, until my sobs broke louder now.
The collar flashed red, and pain came again.
My eyes closed.
The man won.
They called him the Silencer on the news. Now I know what it meant.
“Man, I am sorry,” Nico says as he crouches to clean up the spilled sauce and broken glass.
He glances at me, then signs. Sorry.
You know ASL? I sign.
My mom is deaf, he signs back.
I hesitate, then sign again. Why didn’t you say anything before?
He shrugs. “I thought you were just a weirdo, man. You know how many weirdos I’ve met?”
You’re weird now, I sign. The alcohol makes my eyes drift, the room slightly off balance.
“I figured you couldn’t talk when I saw you signing to Carmen,” he signs.
I laugh again, Funny, because she has no idea how to sign.
For a long time, I thought having friends would always be limited for me because most people don’t know how to talk to me. They try at first, then give up on me, treating me like a lost cause. But now I know I can finally have a conversation that doesn’t end with just me.
My eyes are closing, my head falling back.
“You don’t look good,” he laughs, watching me too closely.
I lift my hands and sign. I kissed Carmen.
His smile drops. “You did what?” He stands, then drops beside me on the couch, knees angled toward mine. “Man, why?”
I lift one shoulder.
“Is this why you’re drunk?” He chuckles, then lets out a low whistle.
I shove at his arm. Stop. My hands shake as I sign. I fucked up.
“What about Ella?” He asks it out loud, then signs it. She will chop your balls.
Ella and I are just special friends, I sign.
“Special,” he repeats, unimpressed. He nudges my shoulder harder this time.
“You know I won’t judge you. I’ve done way more fucked up shit than kissing my newly adopted sister.
But I’ve been to juvie. I’ve seen girls like Carmen.
She’s vulnerable and already broken in places.
Don’t push her away before you even get a chance to get her. ”
I stare at my hands.
She made it very clear she doesn’t want to do anything with me. I sign it slowly, like that might make it true.
“Right,” he laughs. “No one who doesn’t give a shit defends you like that at a party.”
I snort, shaking my head as I look at him.
“Alright, 1cabrón,” he says, hauling me to my feet. “Time to get you home.”
Nico drops me off in front of the house. My bike is parked at his place. He didn’t let me drive drunk, even though I wanted to speed through the shame that was crawling under my skin.
I struggle to walk. Everything spins. The garden moves in slow circles, and my stomach lifts like I am stuck on a rollercoaster that won’t stop. I see the balconies in front of me. Spinning. Moving. I can’t show up drunk in front of Dad. I can’t listen to another lecture tonight.
I am an adult. I got this, I tell myself.
I grab the railing and pull myself up, my grip slipping before my fingers finally lock.
Pain flares as my hands take my weight. I scrape my knee on the edge.
When I manage to swing myself onto the balcony, I sit there for a second, breathing hard, the house still spinning.
Then I stumble forward and ease the door open.
It’s dark. Too dark to see anything. I move by memory, straight toward the bed. I don’t even bother taking off my clothes or turning on the lights. I just collapse onto the mattress.
When I shift my hand, I feel something soft on my left side.
Pillow, I think.
I press my face into it and grab it tighter. Just as my eyes slide shut, something hard slams into my face.
A short scream follows, and the lights turn on.
I jerk upright, my head swimming. I blink once. Twice. Then a sharp slap lands on my cheek, cutting through the fog.
“What the fuck, Judas?” Carmen says.
I look around and realize this is not my room.
My legs refuse to work. I can’t move.
“Are you fucking drunk?” she asks, getting up.
She takes my hand, pulls me up, presses me against her shoulder, and somehow manages to make me stand. She curses in Spanish under her breath. My head tilts to the side, losing balance, pressed into her tank top that feels warm, with the sharp scent of soap. I am too dizzy to look up.
She drags me to the bathroom and shoves me into the bathtub. I go down hard, my ass hitting the cold bottom of the tub. My hands fall uselessly at my sides, my legs half in the air. My eyes barely stay open, just enough to see her grab the shower head and turn on the water.
The cold hits me like a slap.
I gasp, sucking in air, my eyes flying open as I jerk my hands up, trying to stop her. She doesn’t.
“This is what you fucking get when you don’t text back, you buffoon,” she snaps. “You got me worried you died or something.”
I raise a brow.
“Don’t put that face on,” she says, angling the shower straight at my face.
I shake my head, reach up, and grab the shower head. Twisting it, I rip it from her hand and turn it on her instead. Water sprays everywhere.