Chapter Twenty Seven #2
He opens his hands in defeat. “I don’t, but I know that’s not my daughter. She needs to heal. You need to heal. You can’t heal in the same environment that makes you sick, mijo. Right now, the best way to love her is to let her go.”
So many things flash in my mind. My thoughts become jumbled, leaving nothing but my emotions.
So much I want to say, only to choose silence in the end.
Nothing I say would change anything… because deep down, I know he’s right.
The worst part is over, but this is when the hard part begins.
The part where we clean up the mess, trying to find our missing pieces.
“Alexa has been worried sick, Isaac. Mijo, you both made it. You survived. And now, it’s time to heal and let go.”
At this point, I can barely contain the anger that quickly rises to the surface.
I shoot up and glare at my father. My rage isn’t necessarily towards him, even though his words irritate me.
I know he means well. Still, I can’t help but be angry, quickly making him my target.
“So easy for you to say,” I snap, spit particles flying from my lips.
“I told you I loved her, and you did this. To me. To us. And now, you sit here and tell me to put things behind me.” A shaky laugh moves past my lips.
“Should I pretend that I wasn’t forced to rape her? ”
His eyes go wide, exposing all the white, at my words before they soften. His mouth gapes open and slams shut just as quickly. While I simmer in my pain, still bleeding before him. Can he not see it? Pops pinches the bridge of his nose. “Isaac, es tu hermana por Dios1.”
“She’s not my sister… That's the woman I’ve been in love with for all these years.
The same love that you took away from me,” I say, not holding back the pain and anger I’ve felt through the years.
“You have no idea what happened down there, what I’ve felt all these years, how I hurt.
But you sit here and tell me to move on as if it were as easy as changing clothes.
Fuck you. I raped her.” I slam my hand on the side of the bed.
The pain is instant against my already throbbing wound, sending a wave of discomfort up my arm.
“I was raped. Then—” My words are cut off by my father's sudden movements.
One minute, he’s sitting... Next, his arm is around me.
The dam breaks, and I weep into his arms, like I did the night Mom died.
I cry for Ronnie. For me. For everything they took from us, but mostly because we’re alive.
We made it. She is finally free and safe.
I could die this very moment, and it would be with a smile on my face.
It’s going to take time for her, I know, and I don’t care if I'm to be her brother, cousin, who fucking cares, as long as I can be who she leans on while she collects the pieces. That I can watch her rise from the ashes, even if it’s from afar.
“He’s there with her. I don’t say to move on because I don’t know how you feel.
Believe me, I feel for you. You can’t fix this, and she can’t fix you, Mijo.
Things will take time. All I’m saying is to give things room to bleed, so they can heal.
” My father’s words are like heavy rain, washing over me, pulling at the layers of hurt I’ve masked with anger.
He pulls back, and his eyes meet mine, full of understanding and regret.
A tear slides down his wrinkled cheek. “Let her go. She’s got a long way ahead.
One look at her…” He trails off, trying to push back the tears.
“One look at you both, and I can only imagine, but she needs to fight for herself.”
“I can’t leave her, Dad,” my voice chokes. “I can’t just walk away.”
His hold tightens around me as he sighs, heavy with the weight of our history.
“You think it’s about walking away? It’s about stepping back, son,” he gently corrects me, and it brings a sinking feeling in my chest. I could argue a million reasons why he is wrong, but the truth is that he isn’t.
I did my part in her trauma, and now she carries a permanent reminder.
My memory goes back to just a couple of days ago when I asked her to marry me.
We are out now, and something inside me knows that those words died in that basement.
Those feelings have changed, and once again, I have lost her.
I don’t have a chance to gather my thoughts or my emotions when there’s a soft knock at the door, followed by it opening.
The blonde waves come into view, then puffy, swollen blue eyes. “Blondie,” I whisper.
My dad pulls away immediately, clearing his throat as Alexa walks into the room, dressed in her favorite color, yellow. She looks tired… thinner and nervous as she holds her hands in front of her. Offering me the brightest smile she has to give, followed by a squeak. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I reply softly, sitting upright and pushing the blanket off and standing to my feet as she greets my father, too.
When he turns on the lights, I can see the look on his face when he looks at her, making me feel the knife twist in my heart once more.
I know that look; that’s a pity. He doesn’t say anything else and quickly steps out of the room, leaving the two of us alone.
“I can’t believe it, Iz. Can I hug you?” she asks, her voice breaking.
I open my arms with a small smile. “Bring it, Blondie.”
She stumbles into my arms, her slight frame trembling as she wraps her arms tightly around me.
Her tears soak through my white t-shirt, but I don’t mind.
A deep sigh of satisfaction leaves her lips, her voice warm as she whispers in a hushed tone, “I missed you so much… God… you’re both alive.
” Her words break into a small sniffle. “I spent days looking for you both. Ronnie is so…” She chokes.
I caress her back, trying to ease her pain.
Her words hammer down on me, guilt rushing over me like a wave.
“It’s okay,” I murmur into her hair, regret already knotting my stomach. “We’re out now.”
She pulls back slightly to look at me, searching my face for something.
I meet her gaze, tears sliding down her cheeks.
“I thought you guys were dead. I gave up hope,” she sobs.
“I’m so sorry, I felt so guilty that night for leaving.
Maybe if I had stayed, it wouldn’t have happened. I just couldn’t pretend anymore.”
I pat her back comfortingly, trying my best to keep my own composure.
“It’s okay, really… We are here now. Alive,” I say softly, offering a weak smile.
She pulls away, tears already shimmering in her icy stare.
“Alive, but not well. I see it. I know you well enough to know that whatever you two went through was horrible.” She gives me a nervous smile.
“This sounds fucked up, but I’m glad you too had each other. ”
I nod in agreement. Wishing I could share her relief, feel the happiness that’s sparked in her eyes, but all I feel is an overwhelming ball of emotions.
I can’t pinpoint how I feel. Everything just feels wrong.
Even being so close to her feels wrong when all I can think of is Ronnie.
The only place I want to be is the one place I know I can’t be.
Alexa wipes her tears with the back of her hand.
“I'm just so happy that you’re here,” she says, trying to smile through her pain.
It’s a genuine smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
There’s too much pain there. It’s like she can sense the shift, the end of us…
the end of this situationship. My hand reaches out to caress her cheek. “I’m sorry.”
She leans into me, my touch soothing her.
We don’t speak. The fragility of the moment is almost unbearable.
The sort of silence that screams volumes, the one that unfurls a thousand unspoken words.
And as much as I hate what I’m about to do, it is something that’s long overdue.
“Thank you for everything, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be the man you deserve.
” I cup her cheeks in my hands, forcing her gaze to meet mine.
“You deserve someone who loves you, who worships you.”
She smiles. “And that man isn’t you…”
I shake my head, confirming her conclusion.
“I guess I’ll get going.”
I nod, squeezing her hand as she turns away, slowly moving towards the door.
Don’t look, Blondie. Don’t make this harder.
Keep walking, I think to myself. Despite my thoughts, my eyes follow her to the door, tracing the curve of her back and the sway of her steps.
Thankfully, she doesn’t look back, sparing me the look of sadness and the pang of pain in my chest as I break her heart yet again.
1. My God. That's your sister.