as I was after Mateo took his last, gasping breath, and this is my way of punishing myself as much as I can for that.
Maybe he’s right.
Maybe I am a liar.
I was born with the devil inside of me, and he's been trying to claw his way out since the very first breath I inhaled, to the last one I can see on the horizon.
I don’t like to think of myself as a bad person, but I must be if I haven’t shed tears for him yet.
For any of them.
Not a single life that I’ve taken for El Señor has affected me in one way or another, yet this should have been different.
I may not have grown up with Mateo, but he did hold much more meaning for me than any other pig I’ve slaughtered.
I break my submersion, pushing my hair out of my face before resting my cheek on the side of the tub. I move his head down a little to see the side of his face and do my best to commit what he used to look like to memory.
I guess in a way, this is my funeral for an old friend that became a traitor.
A soft knock at the bathroom door startles me, and as I sit up, I accidentally end up splashing some of the water onto the floor.
“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath as I glance over the side and sigh. I lean down and rub the tips of my fingers against the small puddle before I settle back into the bathtub. “Come in,” I call out.
The door creaks open slightly as Anabella, Papa’s maid peeks into the room. Her eyes immediately settle on Mateo, and I can see her startle before she shakes her head and looks at me.
“This one is special, huh?” she asks in her broken English, and I give her a small smile in return.
Most people think that “the maid” knows everything that happens in a household, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. That’s not how Papa runs his house, and those of us that live here know when to keep our mouths shut regardless of how much his hired help may see.
“A little bit,” I reply softly.
She smiles kindly at me as she walks over to the linen closet and pulls out a fluffy, white towel, spreads it out, and waits patiently for me to exit the bathtub.
I rest my head back against the cool, ceramic structure for a moment before raising my fingers and looking at how shriveled they’ve become. I guess getting out of the tub would be a good idea at this point.
With a sigh, I push myself up to my feet and step out, careful not to knock Mateo’s head over and step into her waiting embrace. She wraps the towel around my body and gives my arms a warm yet gentle rub before she glances around me and takes him in again.
“Do you want me to dispose of that?” she asks uncertainly.
“No,” I reply, the small smile returning to my lips. “It’s for Papa.”
Anabella nods as she dries my wrinkled skin quickly. I like her; she’s in her mid-forties, has beautifully natural tan skin, keeps her straight black hair in a neat bun, and doesn’t question things further than she should. She’s a foot shorter than me but treats me like a little girl when she thinks I step out of line, and I don’t mind it.
It’s nice to have a mother figure sometimes, especially since no one knows what happens to Papa’s wife.
She left one day to run errands and never came back.
Tati said she thinks she ran away to be with another man, though I doubt it. And if she did, maybe her disappearance wasn’t an intentional thing on her part. But if it is true, the worst thing she could have done was remain in Navolato because if I find her, I’ll kill her for abandoning Papa.
“I’ve laid your dress out on your bed,” she tells me as cheerfully as she can. “It’s one you haven’t worn yet. I’m sure that Señor Cancio will love it when he sees it.”
I give her a sharp look, but it almost instantly fades when she begins to chew her lower lip nervously. My father is never to be addressed by his name, first or last. Had anyone else but me heard her, she knows that she’d be turned out on the street and hunted like a dog.
“I can finish this,” I say,