Chapter 26
Alma
Something lingers in the air. I can smell the Florida water Efren sprayed, but something feels off. It’s like I’m a little girl again, worried about what monsters will expose themselves from the closet in the middle of the night.
Every time I close my eyes, the hum of the ceiling fan blends with the frantic beating of my heart, and I feel an urge to jump up and run back to the living room, where I’m safe.
Where Efren is waiting, his strong arms open and ready to shield me from the darkness, calling to me.
A cold chill rattles through my body. I close my eyes again and imagine the warmth of his embrace until the thought finally lulls me to sleep.
Tap
Tap
Tap
I try to drown out the sound, but it only grows louder in my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut, but the sound persists. After a while, it fades, and sleep grabs me again.
I’m stuck in a dream, standing in the Nevarezes’ kitchen. Looking to the side of me, I find Missy there. She’s in her favorite dress, an all white caftan with lace trim. Her hair is down, and her eyes are filled with concern as she stares into mine.
I reach out to touch her, but can’t. Even in the dream world, she’s unreachable.
“There’s a dust storm coming,” she says.
Her tone is flat. I look around her to see myself, Esteban, and Efren. We’re sitting at the kitchen table with a half empty bottle of Jose Cuervo. I’m in a long white shirt that hits mid thigh. My hair is in a bun, and my face is bare, slightly flushed.
I remember this night. Bud and Angela were both working late. Esteban wanted to play a drinking game, but Efren refused. Turning, I find Missy’s ghost still standing next to me, watching the scene play out before us.
“There’s a dust storm coming,” she repeats.
I’m locked in whatever story is playing out, and yet I can still hear the outside world.
Tap
Tap
Tap
Turning back to the kitchen, I find Efren holding the phone to his ear as he paces around the table.
“It’s Pa. I guess they got a flat tire,” Efren says and puts on his coat.He stops at the table, leaning down until our eyes are level. “Go home, Alma.”
It’s more of a plea than a warning, and this drunk version of me laughs in his face.
“Ya dejala,” Esteban scolds.
But I can see it now—the concern etched on Efren’s face. He gives Esteban and I one last look before he exits.
“Don’t pay attention to him. That fool’s too uptight. Let’s get you another drink.” Esteban grabs my empty glass and the bottle of Jose Cuervo from the table.
He moves to the counter, his back to me. I walk toward this version of me and take her in, her flushed face and dilated pupils.
Turning, I feel my curiosity pull me closer to Esteban. He’s mixing orange juice with a shot of Jose Cuervo. The spoon swirls and clanks against the glass. He reaches into his pocket, grabbing a small Ziplock bag full of pills.
His head turns to check on me before he crushes the small white pills between his fingers. I gasp, stepping back, and bump into something. Or someone.
“They found traces of benzodiazepines in your system. This is a common date rape drug. We believe you may have been incapacitated when the shooting happened. Perhaps that’s why you don’t remember anything?”
I turn to see Detective Johnson, who has now taken the place of Missy. I gasp in horror at her. My eyes snap back to the kitchen. The restless need to run stirs from the pit of my chest.
“Run, Alma,” I whisper. “Run.”
But I don’t run. I watch myself become dreary. The taste in my mouth feels different. The sweet citrus flavor is now thick and bitter.
“You look tired.” Esteban’s tone is as smooth as the tequila sliding down my throat.
“I’m fine.”
“Alma, babe, you’re drunk.” A wicked smile plays across his face.
A slow warmth creeps up my body, thick like syrup. My limbs feel heavy, and my heartbeat echoes in my ear.
“Esteban?” I try to speak, but my words slur. “What’s happening?”
He crouches beside me, his fingers brushing my knees. “Shh. You’re just tired.”
His tone is sweet, but I can hear the venom laced in it. I watch myself attempt to stand, and the room folds in on us. Something cold grabs hold of my hand, and I turn to see Missy’s hollow face. I scream at the sight of her. Bright red blood streams from her eyes, suffocating me.
My body jolts up in bed.
I’m panting, drenched in sweat, and I think I’ve escaped the nightmare just to realize this isn’t a nightmare. It’s a memory.
Tap
Tap
Tap.
The tree continues singing its deliverance song. Clasping my hand over my mouth, I feel the warm liquid spilling from my eyes. I’ve woken up like this once before.
Disoriented.
Naked.
Afraid.
“Esteban? What’s going on?” My voice cracks.
“Go back to sleep.”
There’s a heavy feeling in my bones. As if all the blood had been drained from me and replaced with sand.
Somehow, I manage to sit up and swing my legs to the side of the bed.
Esteban is setting up a camera, but stops when he sees me moving.
He rushes toward me, pushes me back down, and pins my shoulders to the bed.
“I told you. Stop. Fucking. Fighting.”
My hands fly to his face, but he’s quick to grab them and pin them over my head.
“Stop fighting, you fucking bitch.”
My head jerks sideways, a bright white light flashing at the edge of my vision. The pain is there before I can breathe it in. He lifts his fist again—a threat to do what he says. There’s madness in his eyes, hate written all over his face.
“Please. Esteban.” My voice falters, catching on the edge of his name.
We’ve fought before, but it’s never gotten violent. I don’t know what I did wrong. Every instinct inside me tells me to run. A small prayer slips from my lips to the only person I could call to save me.
“Missy, help me.”
I gather what little strength I have and drive my knee up and between his legs.
He gasps—a sound of surprise that buys me half a second.
The sandbags in my blood drag at my every step, but I run down the hall, the walls tilting, the floor slick beneath my feet.
I barrel down the hall, fling open the first door, and shove inside.
Dashing to the closet, I yank a white shirt from the hanger and drag it over my head.
The closet is a dark pocket. Angela’s clothes hang on one side, and on the other, I recognize Bud’s shirts from the tire shop where he works. There are boxes of junk filling the built-in shelves. My eyes travel up, and I see a gun at the very top.
“Alma,” Esteban sings my name, the sound getting thinner the closer he comes.
I grab the gun, fingers closing around cold metal as his footsteps draw near. My heart hammers so hard I can feel it under my ribs, but I don’t close my eyes.
“I know you’re in here,” he taunts. “I can smell your fear.
“Come out, Alma, I won’t hurt you.”
The sound of his footsteps stops outside the door.
Fear floods my veins, but the weight of my emotions shifts, sharpening like a knife.
Adrenaline cuts through the fog, waking my body.
My fingers tighten on the gun. For the first time, I believe I might make it out alive.
The closet door swings open, and he’s standing there—not the man I pretended to love, but the predator.
“What are you going to do with that?” He laughs when I raise the gun in my trembling hand. “Sweetheart, don’t make me get rough. I wasn’t planning on hurting you as badly as the others.”
The others?
I thumb the safety the way Missy taught me and force my eyes to track his hands. Esteban lifts his palms theatrically.
“If that’s how you want to play, Alma, I’ll give you a head start. Efren’s gone. My parents are gone. How far do you really think you’ll get before I overpower you?”
My hands shake. Doubt creeps in, telling me I’m half his size. My eyes roam over his broad shoulders and thick, muscular frame. Knocking sounds from the front door, and Esteban’s head jerks to the side. Taking advantage of the moment, I push past him.
My adrenaline spikes, burning through what’s left of the drugs in my system.
The front door glows faintly ahead. My salvation, if I can reach it.
But Esteban’s footsteps pound behind me, closing the distance.
He hits me. The impact sends me sprawling, the gun skittering across the floor.
My palms scrape against the tile. He’s on me before I can crawl away, pinning my arms behind my back.
“I can’t wait to fuck your dead corpse,” he whispers, his breath sour against my ear.
A cry breaks out of me, but the darkness swallows it. His hand fists in my hair, my head lifts, and he slams it against the floor. Pain detonates behind my eyes. He lifts me again, ready to do it once more, when the front door bursts open.
There in the darkness stands Efren. I can barely see the outline of him and his cold eyes looking down at where Esteban’s body crushes mine.
Before I can move, Efren’s boot connects with Esteban’s face.
The impact throws him backward. I scream, roll onto my stomach, and crawl toward the gun glinting near the door.
“What the fuck did you do to her?” Efren’s voice cuts through the ringing in my head.
They collide. Two shadows in a storm of fists and blood.
Each hit lands with a dull crack, answered by another.
Esteban’s blood spatters across the wall, but Efren doesn’t stop.
Esteban fights back until he gets in his own hits.
He slams Efren into the dresser. A picture frame crashes to the floor, glass shattering everywhere.
“Efren!” I scream, my voice cracking in the chaos.
The gun lies only a few feet away, gleaming by the doorway.
Esteban turns toward me, eyes wild, teeth bared.
He lunges. I grab the gun. The world narrows to the space between us.
I lift my hand, and the shot rips through the air so loud it swallows my scream.
Esteban jerks mid-stride. His hands go to his chest, and for a second, I think he’s going to keep coming.
Then his body folds, hitting the floor with a heavy thud.
I drop the gun and rush to his limp body. There’s blood everywhere. Efren stands motionless, chest heaving, but untouched. His gaze flicks from me to Esteban’s body.
“I killed him!” I cry out. Over and over again, I can’t stop saying it. “I killed him.”
I cradle his body in my arms and cry. Efren picks up the gun, wipes the handle with his sleeve, and places it in his waistband. Crouching in front of me, his voice is steady, colder than I’ve ever heard it.
“You didn’t shoot him,” he says. “You woke up, you heard a noise, and then you found him like this. Do you understand me?”
I shake my head, the ringing in my ears drowning everything out.
“Alma.” He grips my chin, forcing my eyes on his. “Say it.”
“I…I heard a noise,” I whisper. “I ran, and I found him like this.”
“Good. Wait here. I’ll take care of everything.”