My photographic memory forever etched their abuse in me, but somehow it managed to still protect me from remembering it too vividly.
So Roland is alive for now, not that I don’t deliver a blow here and there when he runs his mouth too much for not bringing him alcohol.
He was going insane without it for a week when I withheld it for fun, enjoying his suffering and the amount of begging he was willing to do for it.
He recently proposed me a deal. If I convince Uncle Lucian to let him stay without working till he dies, he will tell me.
Fuck that shit.
I will find what I need one way or another. I’m starting to think I need to use torture in order to make Roland talk.
Too bad there is no one to teach me this excellent skill.
For now at least.
My phone vibrates again.
Do we have a deal?
Usually I ask for more details about my opponents, but five grand is an opportunity I won’t pass up.
Yeah. I’ll be there tonight.
Putting the phone in my back pocket, I quickly finish and clean the table, heading out to the main house, already despising the task ahead of me.
I stomp my dirty boots while sweat dripping down my back dampens my shirt, but I have no time to take a shower.
Rock music blasts through the speakers around the guest house as I walk toward it, bobbing my head to the rhythm, thinking about what other bullshit Santiago will tell me today.
He came back to us three years ago, all bruised and badly scarred. They took him to the hospital right away. I couldn’t wait to see him; my happiness knew no bounds.
The guys and me bought his favorite chocolate and books, deciding to visit him together for the first time.
My best friend came back; he survived! I couldn’t believe it all the way to the hospital, amazed by his strength and resolve. I heard some of the shit that was done to him when the FBI showed up.
My happiness was short-lived, though, as he refused to see us. Uncle Lucian and Aunt Rebecca tried to reason with him, but he flat out yelled “no,” and they had to respect his decision.
Florian and Octavius proposed to give him some time, letting him adjust, all things considered, and decided not to push.
I said fuck that and pushed. I snuck inside his room and talked his ear off while he ignored me, staring at the window.
I showed up every single day, bringing games and books and even movies, since he had a huge-ass TV in his room. However, all my efforts were met with annoyance or an anger I didn’t recognize.
Some asshole replaced my best friend, and he warned me he’d get a restraining order, so security had to escort me out, and that’s when I stopped.
He studied with tutors the first two years, catching up on the material he missed. So he’s lucky to be just a year behind us, but it was difficult to talk to him.
He was hell to live with, constantly had nothing but sarcastic jabs for us all, and continued to ignore us and just soaked up knowledge or disappeared who knows where.
The only people he was nice and semi-warm to were Aunt Rebecca and Jimena. Even Uncle Lucian got shit from him.
Overall, there was this deadly, almost vicious vibe around him that fascinated me in ways I couldn’t explain. A certain darkness surrounded him, and I wished he would make me part of it instead of pushing me out.
Because I have my darkness too.
Lately, I’ve tried a different strategy, letting him be, but today I can’t do it, since the stupid idea the principal came up with requires his cooperation.
Knocking on his door three times, I barge inside the guest house that he claimed as his for some reason, despising staying in the main house. I open my arms wide. “Amigo!” I greet him.