Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty Two
Isaac
“Mami, mira. Look at me,” I huff out, perching myself up on the very top of the slide.
A single blue butterfly flutters by my mother, the wind lifting her short strands.
My mommy used to have long brown hair, but she got sick one time.
Then her hair got so short it looked like mine…
It’s growing again. She looks happy. Better yet, she can play with me again.
“Be careful,” Mommy says. With one hand, she waves at me from the bottom of the slide, and the other holds the sunflowers I pluck every time we pass by the fields of them.
I’m not supposed to, and I’m not sure why I started to.
I just can’t help it.
Sunflowers are pretty like my mommy. They look like sunshine, and that’s what she is.
I grab the rail that sits on the top of the slide and swing myself to give myself some speed.
I count to three before I let go, closing my eyes as I slide down the black tunnel.
My screams echo through the space, and my heart skips in my chest from the excitement.
The light breaks in, and there she is, my sunlight.
My mommy. “Did you see?” She peppers me with soft kisses. “I did. You are so brave.”
My eyes flutter open, slowly adjusting to the dim light of the hospital room.
It’s not often that I dream of my mother.
It’s too painful. It’s something I unpacked and put away years ago.
The memory continues to play out in my head, bringing my pulse to a steady and calm rhythm.
I close my eyes, holding on to the warm and caring voice that echoes in my mind, my mother's voice. “You are so brave.”
Am I?
No…
I can’t be… not when I feel so weak.
Before I can spiral deeper into my head, a soft, warm body melts into me, and I pull her deeper into me.
Not in a sexual way but in a protective way, hoping that even in her dreams she could anchor herself to me.
My hand rests on her stomach, under the blanket and her shirt, on the spot I’ll watch swell as time passes by and protect it with everything I have.
If that’s what she chooses to do. I turn my head to the side, careful not to yawn in her face.
At some point between the crying and the silence, or maybe the exhaustion… we both fell asleep.
She’s pregnant….
The thought resurfaces, along with the conflicted and extremely complicated emotions.
I hate that, once again, she’s forced to make a difficult decision.
I would give anything for this to be something good, something decided on…
. something completely ours, but even this is tarnished by that basement.
A small hint of light filters through the blinds, and there’s a peaceful quiet in the space despite the constant hums and beeps from the machines that spill from the hall.
I bask in the softness of her body as she gently snores.
Trying to not wake her, I remain as still as a corpse, even though my arm is growing numb.
As uncomfortable as that is, I remain transfixed on the slow and uneven breaths she takes.
Memorizing the rhythm of it, my fingers instinctively move towards her back, trying to curl the ends of her hair around my finger.
Only to remember her long hair is long gone, and now it rests right on her shoulders, falling over my forearm like a silky blanket.
I lay my cheek on top of her head, taking a deep breath of air. Inhaling the rich scent of her, letting myself believe just for a second that things will be better. They have to be, I have to believe that for her sake. For mine….
A soft knock breaks the spiral of thoughts and daydreams. My gaze moves towards the heavy door, as if it cracks half an inch before anyone answers, my father’s voice whispers into the room. My pops. Why is he here?
“Iz…. Mijo, wake up.” His tone is low but urgent and serious, and the sound causes my pulse to spike and my stomach to churn.
Without a word, I gently move Ronnie off my arm, immediately missing the weight of her.
My nerves come to life, little insects that crawl beneath my skin.
The feeling is uncomfortable, and for a second, I wish I could go back to sleep and escape this reality.
To live in a dreamland where only she and I exist. Where none of this happened, and we can both be free. In a place where I can protect her…
Ronnie stirs when I get out of bed, her body seeking mine, but she doesn’t wake; she only rolls onto her stomach, letting out a small snore as she hikes up her leg.
My feet drag me towards the door that looms before me, making me nauseous at the sight of it.
Dread curls around my spine, snaking up my body until it tightens around my throat, causing my pulse to spike at an alarming rate by the time I reach the door.
But before I can open it, my dad steps inside, and behind him, Mariana, my stepmom.
Ronnie’s mom and the woman who looks at me with the hope that I can bring her baby girl back to her.
However, it’s not them that I focus on but the look they wear, worried and startled.
My father gives me a barely there nod, his eyes flick between his wife and Ronnie’s sleeping form, his voice barely above a whisper.
“FBI wants a word with you,” he murmurs. “Just you.”
I swallow hard, my throat dried and in need of hydration.
Just me… the words echo in my brain, my stomach turns, and I think I might be sick from the uncertainty.
That can’t mean anything good. I glance back at Veronica once more, who is sound asleep, mouth slightly open, and her face buried deep into the pillow.
A small smile tugs at my lips before forcing my gaze away at the sound of my father's voice. “They are outside.”
With a dip of my chin, I acknowledge his words and step out into the hallway.
Whoosh. Whoosh. My heart pounds in my ears.
My palms are sweaty and clammy. The fluorescent lights sting my eyes, and it takes a moment to adjust to the business of it all.
It’s fucking cold, too bright, and smells like bleach and sickness.
My stomach drops when Agent Blake comes into view, standing near the nursing station with a file tucked under her arm, lips set into a thin line.
There’s no room to question that whatever she wants to tell me, it’s serious, and that has my muscles going taut. A cord ready to snap at any minute.
“Mr. Vargas,” she says quietly. “Thank you for stepping out.”
I don’t notice the door creak open behind me, only feel the presence of my father as he comes up behind me, following us as she motions to the small waiting area near the room.
Small pink chairs line the room, and a small TV that plays the weather.
“This needs to be said privately,” she says softly.
I’m sure she’s talking to my father, but that doesn’t deter him as he takes a seat.
The phrase alone makes my vision tunnel, and causes my throat to close, almost not managing the words to say, “He can stay.”
Taking a seat beside my father, I can’t help the way my leg begins to bounce from the anticipation… the nerves. Blake exhales and opens the folder, her eyes never look down, instead she focuses on me as if bracing for impact.
Fuck, I’m bracing….
“Upon her arrival at the Valley Medical Center,” she begins softly.
“Priscilla Harper underwent a full examination.” The mention of her name settles like ice-cold weather biting into my bones, shriveling up my insides.
My pulse drops into my stomach. At this point, I think I’m on the verge of puking, I’m sure.
Holding onto hope that the words I think are about to leave her lips isn’t what I’m thinking.
She sighs and continues, “She’s pregnant. ”
What?
Did… No…
What?
The words, low and final, deliver a devastating blow. My ears ring, my ribs tighten, and the chair edges bite into my palms from how hard I grip them. Blake keeps talking like she’s narrating a horror story, and I mean, she is, but I’m the main character. The one living it.
“Gestational age confirms conception occurred during your captivity.” She lets out a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. “She claims you are the biological father.”
“No,” I choke out.
Already feeling my heart slowly giving in.
Each word that leaves her lips is a punch to the gut, ripping the air from my lungs.
My father swears in Spanish under his breath.
.. “Mijo, no. Breathe.” He turns to Agent Blake, shaking his head.
I’ve never heard my father so upset… so angry and full of emotions as his voice booms. “He is not responsible for that child.” The sound is so loud and ugly that he practically jumps from his seat, moving forward like he’s ready to tear the walls of this place down.
I don’t blame him. I want to do the same fucking thing.
“No! Not after everything. Not this. I won’t allow her to keep hurting him from even being there. ”
Blake lifts a hand, her gaze only reflects helplessness as she apologetically mutters.
“I’m sorry. But given Mrs. Harper’s statements…
and the results, we have a right to inform you, especially because of said claim.
And if that’s a possibility, we need to determine the paternity to establish custody of the child once it’s born. ”
The world tilts sideways, words escape me, and my vision blurs. My throat burns. I want to scream, but all I do is stare at the floor as it slides out from beneath me. All I hear is Ronnie’s voice as she repeats, ‘They raped us over and over… He didn’t stop... he would never stop…’