him a blow to the heart, and that’s not something that will be easily forgiven or forgotten.
As I nestle into the blankets that he’s wrapped so tightly around my body, I glance out of my bedroom window and sigh.
Tomorrow, I’ll put the rest of Mateo into the ground, and the sun will shine a little brighter because I’ll bury the damaged part of me with him.
Chapter Eight
The early morning Mexican sun is hot on my back. It has me sweating more than I thought I would be, but thankfully, I’m almost done.
I made sure to wake Tati up extra early so that I could get this done without Papa seeing, and I’ve made her my official water girl until I’m done.
It’s almost seventy degrees already, and I swear God is trying to wear me down. He wants me to confess mine and Tati’s sins to our father, but I won’t betray her. I promised her that he’d never find out what she does when there are no eyes on her, and my sin is etched into my soul.
I’m a killer, plain and simple.
She just steals the scraps from my table whenever I leave any behind and uses them for her own pleasures.
You’ll have to try a little harder to break me.
I stand up and bend my back a little as I hold out my hand for a bottle of water.
After I drink down what’s left, I toss it at her and throw Mateo’s head into the ground.
“Should we pray for him?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.
“Why?” Tati inquires in confusion.
“So he doesn’t take the taste of your cunt to Hell with him,” I snap at her, rolling my eyes as I begin to pack dirt into the hole.
“It’s not my fault. You left him where I could find him,” she grumbles as she plops her ass down into the dirt.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that she can’t help it. That something inside of her is programmed wrong, and that one day, she’ll fucking snap out of it.
Although I know that some things linger in someone’s soul for far too long to ever be completely shattered, I have hope for Tati.
“What’s wrong? You look like you just tasted something sour,” she remarks curiously.
I shake my head and shoot her a small smile. It’s nothing I want to talk about because she takes offense to it.
If only I hadn’t told her about how I felt the first time I killed someone—the feeling of fear, then the exhilaration that washes over you … Maybe she wouldn’t be this way.
Besides, I was nine, and it was a complete fucking accident.
“Look what I’ve got!”
Pedro lets out his breath in a loud sigh as he walks over. He’s never been impressed much with anything that I do; if anything, I think he just knows me as Tatiana’s annoying little sister.
“What now, Sofi?” he demands in a loud voice.
I bite my lower lip nervously.
Maybe I shouldn’t show him. Papa would be angry to know that I left the house with this and even more so that I took it without asking his permission first.
But the feeling of being scared leaves me almost as quickly as it came when I see how he’s looking at me. With a bored look on his face, like me even being here bothers him.
I’ll show him, I think as bravely as I can.
I lift the bottom of my shirt and pull out the small gun. It belonged to my new mother before she left and made Papa sad by not coming back.
“Where did you get that?” he asks, his voice taking on a touch of excitement.
“It belonged to Mama,” I reply with a shrug. When he reaches for it, I take a step back and swat his hand away.
Pedro is older than Tati and me both, but I know how much they like each other, so I do my best to treat him as I would anyone else in my new family.
“You can’t touch it,” I hiss at him.
“But you can? You probably don’t even know how to fucking use it,” he replies with a smirk on his face.
“I do too!” I shout stubbornly.
“Go ahead. Point it at that tree,” he uses his chin to point to the one a few feet away from us, “and let me see if you can even hit it.”
I give him an angry look.
He must forget that he can’t speak to me like I’m no one now. I’m a Cancio,