Page 22 of Birdy

At least that’s what I’m trying to convince myself as they’re trying to cuff me.

Tryingbeing the operative words because I’m blatantly refusing to let him put those cuffs around my wrists. Every wiggle and thrash of my body compresses his hold on me by the second. I know the whole lot is watching this go down, but I don’t care. I’m not going down for this.Ican’t!

“You can’t do this!” I yell! “You can’t just roll up on me and arrest me without probable cause!”

“Wedohave probable cause, plenty of evidence from following you around!” the one who apprehended me yells back.

“Bullshit!”

“Stop resisting, Villanueva! You’re making it worse for yourself!”

No, no, no! This can’t be happening! This can’t be fucking happening!

“Stop resisting!” another barks, but I don’t relent, tears now blurring my vision as the beer rushes up my throat.

I swallow it back, barely, and keep at it. I keep thrashing, keep wiggling, keep fucking crying until I find myself face-front on the ground, knocking the wind out of me with an audiblewhoosh.

I’m immobilized. Three sets of powerful, intent hands hold me down until I feel the cool metal touch my skin, my eyes bulging as they dig painfully into the bones of my wrists. I’ve never been cuffed this tightly; I wince as they pull me up onto my feet.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you…”

That's when I see it, from the corner of my wet eye, droning out the rest of my rights: his car.He’s here. He came. "Ángel!" I screech at the top of my lungs, sobbing his name like he’s the hallelujah to my silent prayers. “Ángel, help me!”

But he wouldn’t be able to help me. Not then or when they shoved me into the back of the car.

It was too late.

I was going down for this, and I’d go down hard as hell.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I can’t do anything other than sit behind the wheel and watch them stuff her in the back of one of their cars, her screams for me still rattling the glass of my windshield. My jaw tenses, teeth grinding as the trembling sound echoes through my eardrums.

It may ebb away once they drive off, but I already know it’s a sound I’ll never be able to erase from my mind.

What the hell are you doing? Get the fuck out of here,man, my instincts scream.

A shake of my head and I keep driving, rounding the next block like I were any other person and not the one she was just manically yelling for.

Or the one who should really be in those cuffs.

?Locked Up (Remix) Akon & Styles P

One month later…

They gave me seven years.Seven. Fucking. Years.

Originally, it was supposed to be ten to fifteen. Twenty was thrown around at one point, too, because of the amounts and varieties they found at the warehouse. They knew this operation exceeded anything I could do alone. They knew about the Upper Echelon and that it was somehow tied to me, and they wanted names. I gave them none. I refused every single time. I’m not a rat—never have been, never will be—regardless of the time and possible deportation hanging over my head. Because yes, they threatened to deport my ass back to Cuba, too.

Thankfully, Alex was able to talk them into dropping it down to seven years since I wasn’t running the show alone. I’ll be thirty-five when they finally set me free unless I manage to accumulate good behavior and get out before then. Good behavior will depend on how these bitches at Max act, though. My mama didn’t raise nopendeja,and if they think I’m going to be an easy target as fresh meat, they’re in for one hell of a rude awakening. I’ll run that fucking block like I ran those goddamn streets.

La Jefabows to no one.

That obnoxious buzzer sound bounces off the walls, signaling the cell block’s main gate. Through it comes one of the two female guards, her expression as emotionless as the day they booked me in.

“Ladies! Visiting hours are about to get started. When you hear your name, you know what to do.” She starts sounding off names after that, prompting me to return my attention to my game of dominoes.

---