and that means something to the people here.
Squaring my shoulders, I lift the small pistol and aim it at the tree. The tip of my tongue is clenched between my teeth as I raise my other hand and grip the gun as best as I can.
I’m going to look like a fool when I miss it.
I’ve never shot a gun before, and he knows it. He’s going to make fun of me and tell everyone that Ana Sofia is a chicken if I don’t do this.
Closing my eyes tightly, I let my finger find the trigger, and I squeeze it, jumping slightly at the sound.
“See?” he says with a laugh. “You completely missed.”
When I open my eyes again, I let out a heavy sigh and drop my hand to my side, finger still on the trigger.
From what I can tell, I didn’t even hit the bush next to it.
“Perdedora,” he mutters under his breath as he turns to walk away.
But I’m not a loser, and he can’t call me names anymore. It’s not nice, and I’ll tell Papa if he keeps being mean to me.
“Pedro!” I bark after him.
When he glances at me over his shoulder, I raise the gun again and point it at him.
He laughs as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Go ahead, Sofi. I bet you don’t have the cojones to do it.”
The tears that sting my eyes are bitter.
The feeling swelling inside of me is telling me to show him that I’m better than the bothersome little girl he sees me as.
But I remember how Mama and Papa looked when they were shot down in the Culiacán state of Sinaloa, and I don’t think I could stand to see that again.
“Corre pequeño conejo,” I say to him in a low tone.
“For what? I’m not afraid of a little girl,” he huffs as he turns his back to me and starts to walk away.
The tears that were only just brimming begin to fall down my cheeks. I’m so angry that my body is shaking, but I can’t do it.
Instead, I throw the gun at him, and when it hits the ground, a loud bang greets my ears, then the sight of Pedro walking funny.
He stumbles a little bit, back and forth, almost like he’s drunk before he hits the ground with a dull thud.
The hot water that rolls off my back helps the ache of my bones. It took longer than expected to put Mateo to rest, but now that it’s over, I don’t have to worry about him anymore.
As I turn and begin to rinse the shampoo from my hair, I wonder if it’ll be possible to have a quiet day today.
I’d like to stay home like Papa told me to, but I know that being alone with Tatiana will put me in a bad fucking mood.
I’m tired of her taking things that belong to me.
I’m tired of helping her hide her bullshit while trying to hide my own.
I’m just … tired.
But I won’t leave Papa.
I’ve broken my third kitchen knife, and I’m sure that Anabella will have no choice but to tell Papa that the silverware is missing. I take in a deep breath as I use my bloodied hands to push my hair behind my ears. I’m hot, tired, and sweating, but I have to finish, so Papa doesn’t find out what I did.
I’ll tell him I’m sorry and he’ll make me go to Pedro’s house and tell his parents. I know he won’t spank me because he never does, though I know he’ll be upset. I hope he doesn’t send me away, I think frantically as I run toward the house.
I don’t go inside because what I need is in a small shed near the pool.
I look over my shoulder as I run, hoping that I can get by without being seen.
So far, so good.
The shed is unlocked as it usually is around this time of day, so I know that Anabella will probably start cleaning the pool area soon. I push the door open, leaving small smears of blood on the door, but I know I don’t have enough time to clean that up. I push my hair out of my face again as I look around at the different tools inside.
Where is it?
I drop to my knees, then to my tummy, as I extend a hand under the large table inside. Papa doesn’t like things like this left where we can get our hands on them, but—I got it!
I