Chapter 27
“What did you do?” I say it quietly at first, barely a whisper. “What did you do?!” This time, it’s a roar. Jagged and clawing its way out of my throat as I whip around to look at Mami with so much rage I hope it melts her on the spot.
But she doesn’t fade away. She staggers up to her full height as she holds the axe against her chest—free of our meddling hands.
Her hair has come loose from its braid, flyaway curls dangling in front of her face.
Sweat dotting her brow. Her lips curled into a frown. We look so much alike it makes me sick.
Kai’s voice on the drive up comes back to haunt me. How gutted I felt when he told me that I looked like Mami. Maybe that’s why I’ve always loved when people tell me I look more like Papi than her—crave it, almost. A quiet confirmation that I’m not like her. I’ll never be anything like her.
She turns slowly toward me, still heaving for breath. “I protected you.”
“This isn’t protecting me,” I spit back. “None of this is about me.”
The same way it’s never been about Joel.
About keeping us safe. Not really. Because if she ever stopped to think about what she was doing, she’d know we’re not her.
That even if the story might look the same, we’re our own people.
We can make our own choices, fight our own battles.
Holding us close will never save us, no matter how much she thinks it will.
And doing this—hurting innocent people like Kai—won’t do anything to change our fate.
All it’s ever done is ruin what we already have.
“He’s a good person,” I say through the tears falling fast and hard down my cheeks.
My entire body trembles as I force myself to look at Mami head-on instead of letting my attention linger back to Kai, to where he’s crumpled on the floor.
Because if I look back at him and don’t see his chest rising and falling with each breath, I’m not sure what I’ll do.
The only thing I have left now is hope. That I’ll make Mami understand. That she’ll leave us alone. That we can still make it out of here alive.
“And even if he wasn’t, you don’t get to decide who deserves to live or die,” I explain, waving my arm to where his sister is splayed across the floor, still bleeding out and unmoving. “Why can’t you understand that?”
I’m not sure how loud I have to shout to make her hear me, but I say it loud enough to make her wince and step back slightly.
Rage courses through me—more powerful than any adrenaline rush—as I take a step toward her.
Because I’m not afraid of her anymore. Even with an axe in her hands, smeared with the blood of my classmates.
I’ve wasted enough time living in fear of her, of what she might do if I decided to take control of my life, if I ever came clean about what she did.
I’m done being afraid. Of people like Kiki and Carla and Timothy. Of the world. But especially of Mami.
“You have to stop,” I whisper to her, doing my best to keep my voice as calm and controlled as I can.
My chest burns from the urge to shout at her until she finally listens.
But I know shouting isn’t the answer. There was plenty of that the night she killed those boys.
Her, mostly. Screaming at Papi that this was what she had to do to protect our family.
Because the school administration wasn’t going to do anything.
And the cops did even less. As if getting rid of them would bring Joel back.
It was the same excuses she hurled at me now.
They hurt him. But back then we were naive enough to think this was a onetime thing. The worst kind of lapse in judgment.
For a foolish second, I hold my breath and hope that Mami will see my side of things.
Finally understand what she’s put us all through and come clean to the authorities.
Let Papi come home. Try to get the help she needs.
Instead, the wrinkles along her brow deepen as she narrows her eyes at me.
Her grip on the axe tightens as she closes the distance between us—until I can smell her evening tea on her breath.
“All I’ve ever wanted was to keep you safe.
The way my mother never did,” she says, the softness of her voice not matching the darkness in her eyes.
She’s glaring at me like she wishes she could cut right through me.
If I close my eyes, I might be able to believe she’s still the person that lives in my memories—who braided my hair with tender hands instead of tugging and pulling and rushing to get it done before running out the door.
But that doesn’t last long. “And you’ve never even cared,” she sneers, the words and her tone finally matching the harshness of her body.
“You’ve never known how horrible life can be when your mother doesn’t love you.
You’ve never understood. Never appreciated everything I’ve done for you. Never understood how much I love you.”
“If this is what love is,” I reply, voice steadier than it’s been all night, gesturing to Kai’s and Kiki’s passed-out bodies, “then I don’t want it.”
I brace myself, prepared for her to swing the axe at me. But instead she lets go of it entirely, letting it fall to the ground with a clatter that feels louder than a thousand thunderstorms. I resist the urge to lunge for it, not sure if this is all part of some kind of plan.
Mami backs away slowly. One step, then two.
Until she’s nearly back at the door to the cabin.
“How many times do I have to warn you before you listen? How many times do I have to watch you and your siblings get hurt before you understand that these people don’t care about you?
All they’ll ever want is to tear you apart. ”
I don’t protest, even though I want to. Mami’s made it to the entrance now, her hand closed so tight around the doorknob that her knuckles are pale as snow.
“All I’ve done since the day you were born is try to keep you safe,” she spits out, sounding as if she regrets it now.
Protecting me. “You think you don’t need me?
Fine.” She lets out a humorless laugh before wiping away a stray tear—accidentally smearing blood along the apple of her cheek. “See how long you make it without me.”
She kicks off her bloodstained shoes so roughly they fly across the room.
Then she steps out of the cabin entirely and slams the door behind her.
Loud enough to make me let out a quiet gasp of surprise.
I’m ready for her to come barreling back into the room, swinging at me and promising to make me pay for my selfishness, but the room stays silent.
The axe stays on the ground. The bodies around me don’t move.
All that’s left is me and the consequences of everything Mami’s done.