Chapter 42

BOOK II

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Warning

This episode contains scenes of explicit violence, self-harm, sexual violence and inappropriate use of language. It is recommended to read at your own risk.

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"I have always thought that infidelity does not exist. I thought you could be faithful, even having sex with other people. The body can be shared, but the soul, definitely not."

-Dominick.

1965

My name is Ricardo Larsson Soto. I was born in Barcelona Pedralbes, Spain. With a family with an average social level, but I still felt like having everything: two brothers, my mom, my dad. Everything was perfect. I entered school and well, I applied myself a lot to study and I always liked to debate or interfere in the problems of others to try to solve them or I don't know, defend people's rights.

My brothers, Ranses and Camilo and I, were always very close. Our parents, Santiago Larsson and Sheila Soto, taught us to always overcome problems together and to help each other, in everything, in every decision. It was always like that.

At the age of thirteen, things began to change a little; my dad began to have problems with alcohol, he came home very late and well, there was not as much peace as it always was, or there was simply no more peace. The smiles in the house became screams, the laughter, tears and fights, tantrums... and what was a happy family stopped being so. I grew up with that pain of having to see my father in that state, without being able to do much, since when he intervened in his fights, I ended up worse.

At thirteen I also met Andrés, he is a neighbor who lives next to my house. He is two years older than me and after several times bumping into each other on the street, we decided to talk and well, we became best friends.

At fourteen, my dad lost his job, it was my mom's turn to work, my brothers and I already had a painful situation. Many times we spent days and days without eating because there was nothing. Since the oldest was Camilo, we had food at the neighbors' house from time to time, when we couldn't take it anymore. Andrés found out about it a year later, when I told him. At fourteen, the violence began; my dad with his abnormal drunkenness often came to claim him without any sense, he simply came to fight my mom and many times I heard blows... I saw her bruised, I saw her crying in silence. And that it was love for my father turned into hatred.

My brothers and I were separated, Camilo, the older one, went with dad's brother to London, we didn't have so much contact. Ranses, the youngest, went with the family of a very close friend of mom's to Bermuda, I stayed with my mother. I had to be everything at home, hear screams, hear beatings, sobs and I could no longer mess with that situation. My mom didn't want to call the authorities because, literally there was always a preference for men somehow, always they (the adults), were the good ones.

When I was fifteen, I worked and studied hard, my mom worked less every day, since not only was she assaulted by my dad's animal, I could no longer stand the situation. I didn't want to keep seeing how my mom was tortured and I... couldn't do anything. I was always going to talk about it with Andrés, he always listened to me and advised me when necessary. The days went by and well, things only went from bad to worse.

My mom started smoking cigarettes, she fell into depression, severe anxiety, she was already starting to have worse problems and, I swear on my life, it was terrible to live that, to feel the family destroyed. Seeing how my mom got thinner, her body, only hurt herself. And no matter how much I cried and begged him to stop, I achieved nothing. Only scolding and more scolding.

One day, when I was sixteen, I got home at dinner time. I was exhausted from work, on top of that I had to fill out my homework for the next morning and I found the situation again:

"Shut up, Santiago!" The worst mistake I made in my life was to have married you! - my mom shouted at him, with her pale face, taking a drag of the cigarette. He had one of his hands curved under the other, holding the cigarette near his mouth, throwing an unpleasant smoke.

"That's how you've been throwing it in my face all these years, damn bitch?!" Santiago replies in an authoritative way in his voice. Like those who are ready to start hitting each other. I opened the door and kept quiet. I stood in front of both of them with a face of anguish and shame. Until you finally arrive," he tells me. I looked at him with repudiation and desire to hurt him a lot. But he always contained me. For some reason.

My mom didn't say anything. I gave him a look of "we need help, let's get out of this." She didn't react and that only made me worse.

"Did you bring money home or nothing as you always say?" Santiago interrupts me, looking at me with euphoria. I'm sure he was already on drugs.

"No." I didn't bring anything. It's not half of the month yet and I...

"Always new excuses!" When will you bring home something that is worthwhile and that you are grateful for? You ruin the family, piece of shit. You're a mistake. A slag.

To tell the truth, his words hurt more when he saw that my mom didn't say anything to stop him. She was more focused on her cigarettes than on her own son... her words mark me forever. I just saw the option of throwing the backpack in the middle of the living room and running out of there.

I ended up going to Andrés' house, my best friend.

"How's Rick?" he greets me and I pass him for ignored. "Rick?"

"Tell me Andrés..." I said.

"What's wrong with you, why do you treat me like that?" he asked.

"Because if having a friend is the same as being alone, I prefer not to be, period." I blurted out suddenly. A few days ago I was weird, I didn't feel the same emotion as every day I just felt that I was changing... and it was even worse.

"No." It's not like that.—he got cold. And his eyes crystallized—, Ricardo...—he came to me and hugged me I stiffened while he did it—, Sorry, forgive me...

I was silent.

"Will you stay at my house today?" he asked me. I refused. He approached and stared at me. "Has your dad done it again?"

I nodded and tears came out.

"Come on, come in, I can't see you like this," he helped me get up and took me with him to his room.

"Thank you, really." I finished telling him, the hours of the night passed and I spent the night between whining remembering the hard life I have:

My family hates me, my friend is there when they remind him what he should be and what he should be and not maybe because he feels it. I'm alone.

The night got cold. It was raining, I wrapped my arms because of the cold that was starting to get.

"Rick, are you asleep?" Andrés asks me from the other bed.

"No."

"Do you want to talk?" he asks me half nervous, turning a little to look at me.

"I don't know."

"Come on, I know that if you continue like this, you're never going to sleep again..." he told me sitting on the bed I'm on, I raise my head and look into his eyes, while I dry mine, "Why is it hard for you to trust?" he asked me bringing his hand to my leg, he was wearing his pajamas.

"Seriously, nothing's wrong with me." Only that... My situation is not the best, you know...

"Well... I know, hey Ricardo... do you know what they say out there...? - he asked me with a slightly sexier voice and bringing his hand to my chest -, adolescence is to be experienced... - he commented.

"What?" I was amazed by his comment, "What are you going to do?" I asked him since his hand was literally caressing me.

"A good fuck helps with a distraction..." he suddenly let go bringing his hand to my mouth and with the other hand he began to caress my cock.

"Mmmmh!" Mmmh!

"Do you know that I always wanted to try what you have down there?" he told me, taking off his white sweat.

"What are you doing?"

"Help you..." he said throwing himself on me kissing me on the mouth.

"MMMH!" MMM!—he shouted as he pushed him away.

"What's up, don't you like it?" he asked me when I pushed him away.

"I'm not gay!" I shouted at him.

"Me neither... So, turn down the volume, I don't want them to hear us... - he told me the latter and continued kissing me. I got out of his grip.

"Hey, that's enough!" I shouted at him, he hit me and covered my mouth again, "Mmmmh!" MMMH!—he kissed my body and jerked off with the other one.

"Come, kiss me, eat my cock!" he shouted at me in whispers as he took his cock out of his pants and forced me to put his cock in my mouth.

"MMMH!!" I screamed before swallowing his cock with a breath, "AHHG!! GGHH!

"Come on, swallow!" he yelled at me, hitting me with his penis in the face, "EAT!" he shouted, re-entering her, he started with a quick back and down and moaned with pleasure, "JO! I love it! Turn around, NOW! - he shouted.

"What...?" Please don't... Please...—he pulled down my pants along with the boxer and after turning me around to his liking, he began to hit his cock in my ass. Suddenly, he put it in and I groaned:

"JOODER!" UNCLE STOP! - I screamed while he penetrated me.

"SILENCE!" WHAT ARE THEY GOING TO LISTEN TO US! -he shouted in a whisper.

He hit me and covered my mouth while he put it in me quickly, incredible, my own best friend, he disgraced my life.

But why him?

I swear that one day they will pay for what they have done to me... everyone.

That night, my life changed...

I left that house without the sweat, and I ran, it was raining a lot, I didn't know where to go, I'm alone. I just cried, I cried all night...

Life is cruel, I will be cruel with it.

The next day I didn't go to class, I was soaked and with my arms between my legs very cold, lying in front of a ditch in front of my house. I had a sudden reaction to waking up, something liquid and cold had fallen on me:

"Wake up, you stupid bum!" Santiago yells at me, waking me up, "what are you doing there?" Won't you go to class?

I didn't know what he was talking to me. My body hurt. I went to the house and when I stood at the door I received a strong blow with some iron on my bare back. I fell with my mouth to the floor after letting out a scream of horrible pain: "You disgust me, both you and your mother are two complete damned, I don't even know why I allowed you to be born or why I married your mother's bitch. They embarrass me in front of the neighbors and don't produce anything for me.

He dragged me by the hair inside the house. I heard screams from my mother and him. I tried to get away and I couldn't, I screamed loudly in pain. At one point he let go of my hair and hit me loudly against the floor, shaking my head to react, I put my hands against the floor to try to get up, between dizziness I could notice how my dad approached my mom to hit her. I would swear I said something. At least I tried, but it hurt a lot. I don't know anything. I tried to stand up slowly, I held on to the armchair that was in the living room and with pain I was able to stand up.

"Stop..." I managed to whisper. Leave her...! In peace - I repeated with a lot of work in the speech. The blow to my back hurt and I felt like I couldn't stand still.

"Are you coming to hit your father, oh, dear son?" he said with a sensitive voice. I began to walk to him with anger, I clenched my hands forming a fist and squeezed him hard, loaded with anger I was on him and then, he hit me with that mallet I had in his hand against my face, it made my head turn quickly and I fell back to the floor on my back. The scream made me lose several seconds, everyone around me was spinning.

I heard screams, I felt liquid go down my face; it was half thick and smelled sour and salty. I was subject to something because I couldn't move; more time had passed than I thought. I was tied to a chair and in front of me was Santiago hitting my mom, shouting things at her, she was already full of bruises all over her body, I hit her with the hammer with which she hit me. She screamed, between she opened and closed her eyes because she was still dizzy, I managed to see the scene clearly: I was on top of her, with her pants half down, moving her hip in despair, moaning and she screaming to stop, I had grabbed her tight, she twisted. I wanted to scream, but my mouth was tied with something. I just wanted him to see how he did that to him.

"Learn son!" Learn! -he shouted between agonizing moans. I squeezed my eyes so as not to continue seeing. With my tongue I pushed what tied my mouth but it was in vain.

"STOP!" I shouted in the form of a plea. Stop, please! Don't follow! She doesn't...! Please! It's the only thing I have left!"

I broke down just thinking about it and not being able to shout it to the four winds, I began to cry desperately without being able to do anything. I suddenly opened my eyes to believe that it was a lie but it wasn't like that. He was abusing her in front of me. I squeezed my eyes and heard a cry of satisfaction.

"It's been good woman!" he shouted in a powerful voice, "did you see that son?" That's how it's done to women! -my vision was blurred, I felt my skin sweaty and wet, with blood still dripping on my forehead, it burned and the pain made pressure according to the friction of the movements of my facial gestures. I saw him with hatred. You want to kill him. And I would dare, I swear I would dare.

Mom was shaking on the floor, in a fetus position, with a lost look. With marks of blows on the face, on the body... I wanted this not to be like that, I just wanted to wake up, I wanted to stop crying and let out screams choked by the pressure in my mouth. But my reality was raw. It was worse than I ever thought. I just wanted to end this to what they call life. Is this life? In just two days I have been able to see human evil. In the worst way.

Santiago moved to the kitchen, brought alcohol and drank with exasperating desire. It was the only thing he knew how to do; get drunk, get high, hurt... he stopped being a father to me a long time ago.

He stood in front of me and taking a cheap drink of alcohol, he sprayed it on my face, I felt even more disgusted. My mom, half dressed, crawled on the floor, I could see her, she was becking me "shhh" with her hand. And lifting the body well, he held Santiago by the leg, which slipped and fell to the floor along with the bottle, which broke immediately. He let out a cry of surprise and she buried a large glass that had been scattered on her left foot.

He didn't stop cursinga, screaming in pain. My mom came to me and began to remove the ties that I had in the chair.

"Son, no matter what happens to me... just go." Run away! Run away as far as you can! - he told me in a desperate plea as he finished letting me go -. Your dad... made me prostitute myself to bring him money for his vices - he confessed to me. And an overwhelming cold, ran through my whole body when I heard that. I felt a pain in my chest and a lump in my throat that could not disappear. Don't worry about me, run... just - he didn't finish talking because just then, a large piece of glass was buried in my mom's neck in front of my eyes and the blood that came out of her throat splashed my face. My eyes suddenly opened, shocked and my breathing was choppy. My mom took her hand to the glass while she was agonizing moans of pain, her agony, her sorrows... her eyes filled with tears and they looked at me, that fucking look that I will never forget. They begged for help and at the same time that I ran for my life. My hands began to tremble and then my whole body. I didn't know what to do right now. His body collapsed to the ground, staining the whole place with the blood that ran through the cavity where he had pierced the glass.

Santiago spoke, his laughter could be heard. I looked at my mother with lost sight; I remembered my childhood, I saw her smile, I saw her take me to high school, I saw her bring me the cake for my birthday, I saw her being beaten, I saw her cry, I saw her die...

In a desperate attempt of anger, I jumped on Santiago and he fell back to the ground suddenly and a dry touch was heard after the fall; I suddenly screamed taking the first thing I saw in front of me, blinded by anger, I hit him several times with what I had in my hand. I heard the crunch of his ribs, my desperation to see him finished, I took a glass and put it down his throat, through his body, I opened large wounds, blood came out, blood ran and when I saw him agonizing in pain, I had no choice but to cry, do it without stopping... I looked at my blood-stained hands, I watched my father finish dying, my mother with her sight lost and already deceased, with her mouth open...

Inside me a wave of feelings of wanting to be dead, of wanting to wake up, that it didn't hurt anymore, that someone please told me it was a nightmare. That mom wasn't dead and told me that it had only been a bad dream, that this never happened, that I was crazy and that this was the imagination... I felt a knot in my chest, I couldn't breathe well. That feeling of loss, of a void that you know you will never fill again. That feeling that everything was over and that it was reality...

I fell collapsed. The back pain suddenly returned, between the pool of blood and tears that's where I had to sleep that day. In one morning, my life had already changed completely: I was alone, I was an orphan and I don't know what I was going to survive with. I fell asleep that day. I was tired. I was sore.

I opened my eyes. And there was mom, smiling at me, dad, my brothers sitting next to me at the table with a cake, candles and the number ten on top of my plate. My mom passed me the knife to take a picture like someone cutting the cake; after doing so, I sweed mom's head. The one who began to let out horrible screams. My brothers stood in front of me and began to harass me with their finger: "you killed them, you finished them off, you did it, murderer, you finished with the family." I started screaming "No, no, no, no" many times as I hit my head and mom's head was bleeding on my plate.

I let out a terrifying scream and woke up. A nightmare. Not even in my dreams can I have peace.

When I woke up completely, there were flies walking through my mom's open eyes. They came out of his mouth and entered it. I was sitting between a pool of blood. The smell was already disgusting, I shook my hands to stand up. My body and back still hurt.

I didn't know where to go or what to do. I was completely lost, I left home because of the rough forest that surrounded the front. The tall grass covered everything.

"Your dad... made me prostitute myself to bring him money for his vices"

I cried while running, I covered my eyes with my arm to wipe the tears. It was all empty inside me. A smell of wet earth, without a sweater, stained with blood... I fell into a puddle of mud. He stained my body and face throwing sparks into my eyes. I gave up and cried in that puddle. Not much happened (or so I think), and it started to rain. I walked on all fours without strength and without reason to live. I felt my body heavy, a strong headache and chest pain. He breathed agitated through his mouth and kept walking until:

"Hey, boy!" What are you doing there? - they called me while I was still walking on all fours unconsciously. I was shaking and my wrists hurt from having traveled so much in this state. I couldn't see anywhere, I looked ahead, there it was... mom was there. A silly smile took hold of my face and I started laughing like crazy, letting out light laughs that I barely heard: "I'm coming mom. Don't leave me here, mom. Wait for me... I'm coming to you," I whispered while not taking that smile off my face. My mom smiled at me and I got closer to her.

A hand touched my head. He looked at my tearful and mud-covered eyes.

"What's wrong with you?" Where do you come from? -he asked. I didn't answer, I didn't even look him in the eyes, behind him was my mom and I wanted to get to her. My wrists began to tremble and I fell hitting my chin. The tiredness was noticeable. I closed my eyes.

When I opened them, my dad was there. He came to me with my mother's head in his hands, splashing everything with her blood: "I won't let you smile. You won't smile again" mom's head that looked dead spoke to me and listened to him loud and clear in my head "You let him kill me. You let me die. I will never forgive you that" I shouted to shut up, to forgive me and to get out of my head. He beat me again and again because of the insatiable voices that kept accusing me.

I scratched my scalp and my face while begging them to stop. That they hurt me. Then... I woke up. Breathing agitated, sweating contemplating the strangeness that I was not in the mud, nor in my room. I was somewhere else. A dark and dark night was contemplated through the window to my left, it was raining and cold. Where was, opposite, the exit door. A man in a hat and farmer's clothes was sitting in an armchair to my right. There was a bedside table, it had a lamp on it with a photograph of a family. The gentleman, a woman and two children.

I had a cloth around my head, I looked at my hands and they were wrapped in bandages. I tried to get up and my body hurt, letting out a moan of pain at that. The man jumped waking up coming towards me.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked. He was worried. But I didn't say anything. He observed that he was simply silent, he returned —. You don't need to talk or say anything. I feel that something very bad happened to you so that you walked in those circumstances in which I found you.

He kept me still. Quiet. Seriously. On the one hand grateful, on the other hand wanting to die. My reality was only one: I was alone in this world. The days began to pass and I began to discover several interesting things: I was on a kind of farm, quite large that had a stable, farms and breeding grounds for other animals. Mr. Enmanuel lived all day pending on his lands. I came from time to time to eat and then late at night. He was about 55 years old just like his wife Ana Lucía. His children were 18 and 21 years old. The older one worked and studied at the university. The family in a nutshell hosted me with them, but when it came to talking or telling them about my past... I closed myself. The youngest, beautiful girl student and music lover. Days, nights, cold, heat, storms, droughts passed. A year or so or so had passed, my birthday was approaching. I had re-entered classes and was up to date with my subjects.

I was a little more integrated into the family. It was a peaceful family, there were no fights, it was what I always wanted. A family like that... for life.

"How much do you think?" Lucia, the youngest daughter of the family, interrupts me. I sketched a smile without parting my lips. You're very interesting," he told me, sitting next to me. The sunset was seen on the horizon hit his face making his honey-colored eyes shine.

"Why do you say that?" I asked, looking at him curiously. She looked at the sunset.

"Well, we know very little about you," he told me calmly. Closing his eyes to feel, perhaps, the little warmth of the sun already weak—. Even if we don't force you to talk, it's very strange that despite the time you don't want to tell us anything. Don't you trust my family yet? -he turned his gaze to me, he wanted to see if he had put on a strange face or made a gesture of displeasure.

"No... it's not that..." I said letting out a snort, looking down.

"Rick... look at me," he ordered me almost begging him. When I looked up she was looking at me with a sad face; it was strange. I hate my body, I hate to look fat or I always feel like that, I'm disgusted with myself and I have almost no friends or friends, because they make fun of me and my body. Each one suffers a daily battle in his head, in his life. But we are not alone, we are not - his words left me shocked and made me realize that life is not rosy or that, because you have a smile on your face means that you are happy or that everything is fine. I parted my lips to speak, but in an act of not knowing what to say I threw myself on her in a hug. She answered me.

"My parents died..." I whispered close to his ear. My dad killed my mom in front of me - I finished saying. Thousands of images went through my head. Remember that day, tied to the chair with my mouth tied and screaming to let go, I saw mom again and when I wanted to let go of the hug, she clung to her body to prevent me from crying.

"I'm here for you," he whispered to me and cried like a child. The days passed and the family found out, I told them and they supported me a lot. They told me that I would go to a boarding school to help me. We never told her about her, by her decision and her fear. I had already left the institute and I just had to enter the university and well, I had a job and I could pay for my things myself.

Every night I kept dreaming the same thing. My greatest horror, he was still with me. In my head.

I ended up falling in love with Lucía, who agreed to overcome our problems and traumas together. I decided to leave, without forgetting any of them. My family. I needed help to forget my traumas so I traveled to Valencia, where the boarding school that Mr. Enmanuel had told me was.

Hospital Clínic Universitari de València

It looked like a newly opened place. There were not so many patients, on the one hand it gave the feeling of tranquility, on the other hand it was as if he had arrived in a place that he had to fear. But I put that aside and entered:

"Good afternoon, young man," a girl told me at the entrance. She dressed as a nurse and held a tabloid that brought a pen with her. Are you a supplier or a customer?

"I'm new." I guess. -I replied somewhat confused-. I'm here because I have certain problems that I want to overcome.

"I understand." Go ahead, I'll show you the place.

I walked to the clinic with the nurse. I felt comfortable, I met new people who looked normal but who maybe had a world of problems in their head. After a few days, I started going to therapy. I was treated by psychologist Elisa, a woman in her thirties with a peculiar mole on her right cheek. She wore glasses and frequently came to the place with a tight knee-fitting skirt and a blouse that made it together with the color of it. He always dressed formally.

Day 1.

We had a round table with the other young people and between one or the other adult. In between, a girl began to tell her problems:

"My name is Katarina, I'm nineteen years old and since I was ten years old I cut myself off as a method of release from stress and as an escape from my problems. Since I was little I have faced family problems that make me also get to the point of cutting myself. -She moved her wrists to show us her cuts. He was all over his arm. On his legs, marks of deep strides—, I still don't know how to get out of this. That's why I'm here.

"Very good decision, Kath." I can tell you Kath, right? -Elisa speaks to him. She nods—. We will help you so that with your colleagues and I we get out of all the problems, okay? -she nodded again. He looked at the next person and this was a boy.

"I'm Mariano." I'm twenty-five years old, I've had a drug addiction since I was twelve years old. I like to inject it, eat it, inhale it... I like to smoke. If I'm not with my hands moving with something that entertains me, my arms start to burn. My head to beg me to smoke and I don't know how to get out of this. That's why I'm here - the boy had a small inflatable ball in his hand which he massaged to keep his hand moving. I thought this place would be perfect for Lucía, to be able to talk about it and help each other.

The other boys talked, in short, it was the day of the presentation... I introduced myself. The girl Kath, was in grace and already when leaving the talk she came with me where they served food. Everyone had their own room. So many just went to them and that's it.

"How did your cuts start?" I asked to remove the silence we were covering.

"My dad went to my room every night and touched me while I was asleep." Or so he thought. When we were alone, he asked me to take off my clothes before him and forced me to do erotic positions when I was barely seven years old," he shut up to take a breath and continue. The situation lasted like this until I was ten years old; I decided to tell my mom what Dad did but, she only hit me so I wouldn't say things like that and never tried to investigate if I was right. I began to cut myself and for some strange reason I felt good doing it, it freed me and I could feel all my hatred and frustration coming out of the cuts. One day I told this to a friend and that's when I thought I had friends and that they would support me, but no, she just made fun of me and soon everyone found out. That day I was unconscious of so much blood that I had spilled," he looked at me with sorrow, but I was just surprised by everything I had experienced. I woke up in the hospital and my mom only scolded me for doing that. Cut me. And I told myself: "you only know how to fight me? Where are you fulfilling your role as a mother?" - she shut up and looked at me again.

"I stopped in the bathrooms of the institute, they bullied me, he beat me for being different from them, for not having a mother or father to watch over me. They spat on me. They gave me ugly nicknames and I never had anyone to talk to about it. I lost hope of one day being able to get out of this. But if you don't start on your own, you won't be able to do anything. And well, I've been like this for years, until I knew this and wanted to give myself a chance.

That day happened. We had talked about ourselves for a long time. I think it was very late without us noticing.

Day 2.

Some of the colleagues used to insult others when they talked about their problems. It doesn't look like they had a good day. I watched them in silence. I captured his actions and asked me thousands of questions about what his life would have been like.

Elisa, the psychologist, talked to some gentlemen who wore black and did not have any organizational label. I didn't find it strange because they could come for business affiliation issues and other things. After almost half an hour talking to them, he came to us and Kath also came in, who looked strangely at the gentlemen in black who were retiring. He came with a coat-type sweater that covered his wrists. Her nails painted black, shorts that showed her cuts on her thighs and black vans.

He sat next to me smiling without parting his lips and the psychologist said good morning to us. We answered and went on to talk about the problems that characterized our trauma, be it anxiety, nerves, trembling hands, among others. He began to treat them closely while talking to them and he didn't know what was going on. I clarified that every night I saw in my dreams how they torture my mom while I am tied to a chair without being able to do anything. Only screaming and desperate to help and that, in the end, he came with my mother already dead to accuse me of not being able to do anything.

Day 3.

The men from the previous day had returned with cargo, so I assumed that they were only suppliers and that's why the nurse asked me if it was when I arrived. I didn't pay attention to it and then I went to where everyone was. There were eight of us. Each one with different problems but so similar... we feel finished at some point and without hope.

On the night of the third day at the boarding school, I received a letter telling me that Mr. Enmanuel had died of a heart attack. And that Mrs. Ana had been left alone at home. I don't know if Lucia knew anything and had gone to see them and attend to the family matter, but I had to go. It was my duty for gratitude. I had a feeling of anguish and cried a little. To my surprise at the exit they didn't want to let me go. They said he could go out the next day at night because for reasons of his security policies he couldn't go. I was upset but I trusted that everything would be fine.

I ended up telling that to Kath, we had made a nice friendship in the little time we spent together. She understood me and supported me.

When I told my past, I always omitted the part where I killed my father. It was embarrassing and also somewhat strong for me. The other patients also saw that they had made their friends, others were simply isolated, a corner from the rest. As if they were afraid. That day passed, I went to sleep and it was already dawn. Always in the same state, a scream, my mother's head and they blamed me for doing nothing. It was a torture in my mind.

Day 4.

Today I had therapy with Elisa. He said that there would be methods to overcome our fears. The men in black who had been visiting us several days ago were here again. I was happy on the one hand since the boarding school had someone as a provider and kept the record and that showed interest and I personally liked it.

There was a place I hadn't visited and it was the part of a floor below. I was just waiting to finish the therapy to leave and attend to Enmanuel's situation. Before coming, Kath told me that my friendship helped her a lot and that thanks to me she felt a control of herself. Since I advised him to stop. And I was glad he listened to me.

My thoughts are interrupted by a strong blow to my head, I felt that my whole brain moved and I fell unconscious. I didn't understand anything and the reason for the coup. When I opened my eyes, I was tied to a chair, with my mouth held by something. There was little light and a terrifying and dark place. It looked like a torture room. I started struggling to let go, but I couldn't.

I began to despair and my sight was tarnished by the tears that were taking over my eyes. In an attempt to struggle to continue pulling, I closed my eyes and when I opened them, I saw a figure: my father on my mother being raped once again. His voice saying, "learn son, learn." I moved my head so as not to see the scene, but it was there, in front of my eyes, on each side I looked there was my father, I closed my eyes again and there he was.

And a woman's voice invaded my head: Elisa.

"This is to help you overcome your fears." Your traumas, your problems won't come back anymore - I heard him tell me in a calm tone. I kept moving trying to let go of the tie of my hands, the image was still in my head, my mother begged me to run. That she would be fine. And I saw again the image of his neck being pierced by the glass. I moved my head denying in several "no". She came to me and took away what was holding my mouth.

"HELP ME!" YOU'RE KILLING ME! DON'T DO THIS! -he shouted pleading.

"I'm sorry, Ricardo. But this is the only way - he answered me with a tone of voice of someone who had given up and only had this method of solution. I heard footsteps at the exit, I guess.

"No, don't leave, please!" Don't leave me here! Please! My dad is coming to kill me! Please! Help me! -I screamed non-stop and stopped moving my whole body. One of the men in black and covered my mouth again. At one point I heard somewhere: "We didn't find one of the patients. I think he has fled."

I begged still with my mouth covered, between choked screams and moans of pain. I felt a strong blow to the face that left me unconscious again.

I don't know how much time passed. But I woke up, someone was talking to me and shouting my name. I was letting go and I couldn't understand anything yet. I heard echoes in my head and I couldn't understand what they were saying to me. He looked at me puzzled to know if I was already wide awake and told me:

"Let's go!" We have to get out of here! In a hurry!

I hurried to stand up and run with him. He was one of the patients, he had a rare mental disorder disease. He had told us that he had eaten raw animals. He was a psychopath. It was scary but I trusted him and we left the dark side of the boarding school. There were several rooms and screams everywhere. Chaos had broken out throughout the place.

"What's up with the others?" I asked him in despair. Reminding me of Kath.

"Your friend, the suicidal one, she's there." It's too late - he explains to me pointing to one of the rooms. Through the square window, secured by a glass and metal grid I could see inside. She was tied to the bed, her mouth covered with gray tape and many worms walked on her body. Many of them entered her wounds, walked inside her, she kept screaming and I didn't know what to do. I started yelling at the boy over and over again to do something, while I tried to get in struggling.

"Kath!" Kath! -he shouted at her with a shitty voice-. Do you hear me Kath?! - he turned the bolt and knocked on the door in despair. His choked screams could be heard through the surroundings. Blood came out of his wrists and they had penetrated his thighs, through his nostrils, through his ears, they saw each other walking towards his sex. It was the worst torture—. Why do they do this? -I blurted out in a weak whisper.

"The men in black are from an organization in Russia, they came here several times to bring things... they were instruments of torture. This morning when they went to my room, I hesitated without going out or not. Until I heard that one of them said that one of his patients was not easy to grab. To which he replied to use any method of torture," he explained to me. I ran away from there and was hiding until the chaos started.

"Organization? What is its end?" he asked shocked by what he had just heard.

"I attacked one of them because he almost caught me, the organization is dedicated to looking for people who are already believed to have no salvation to first torture them, gag them and then sell their useful body organs and limbs. In addition, women use the placenta to sell and create products," he told me while looking into the distance to make sure no one was coming. They get them pregnant and they provoke her abortion. When the girls are no longer useful to her, they put her in a cell to die.

Each of his words was shocking. How do we end up in this state? How did I not notice?

"We don't have time left." We have to get out of here - he took me out of my thoughts by taking me by the hand.

"Thank you..." I managed to whisper still amazed.

We ran to the exit as we could. It was a mess. Screams of suffering, pain, anguish. It was a complete chaos in revolution. I stopped at a door for something that caught my eyes, it was that boy, addicted to smoking and drugs. He had a kind of razor in his hand that he was using to scratch his arm marked with syringe punctures. After seeing that he could not find a solution, desperate, he raked to the point of taking blood, slit his arm. Without stopping, again and again and he screamed because it hurt. But it's as if I didn't understand what I was doing and I did it with more curiosity.

"DON'T HURT!" DON'T HURT, FUCK! -he shouted to his arm that shed a lot of blood. The situation moved me, it filled me with anger and the voice of the boy, Mateo, brought me to himself again. I kept running and we looked for a way out. Very split, I covered my ears to stop hearing the screams. But they were still there, they couldn't stop. My chest rose and fell from fatigue, we were both the same and I was already thirsty.

"We must escape into the forest." We can't be close, they can find us," he told me on the verge of despair. They are many and I can risk hurting them.

"No, don't think anything like that." Let's get out of here and never come back.

"BE CAREFUL!" he shouted and I turned my head to see the reason for his scream, I bent down in an impulse to cover myself or avoid something. But gunshots were heard. I ran from there. And he fell, I think he fell asleep. I stopped behind a tree that was half far from their presence.

"We have launched a paralysis. We have him here," the guy said through a walkie-talkie, "the other one who was with him has escaped, but he shouldn't go far.

"Finish him. We will not leave anyone alive!"

"Okay, sir," he replied. Returning his walkie-talkie to the belt he had, he began to incorporate Mateo's motionless body, I wanted to go do something but he was armed.

He had a SPAS-12 under his arm but he had no idea what he was going to use at this moment; since when I could move, the weapon had fired a shot flying the head in pieces leaving the brains in sight, white and pink. The guy looked everywhere and I just hid. Shocked by everything my eyes had seen at that moment. The body fell with trembling hands and feet. Just like when you remove the tail from a lizard and it stays alive for a while.

I ran. I ran as much as I could and from that moment on I told myself that someone would pay for everything that had happened to me in my short life. It wouldn't be today or tomorrow, but that day would come.

***

I tried to be strong, what happened in the boarding school never came to light. In the news or anything. I arrived sweaty at a bus stop, I asked someone for a cell phone to talk to Lucía. I couldn't contact her. It was frustrating, but in the end when I got home, she was busy with her dad. I asked him to leave me some money, which I would explain to him later. That's how it was, here the atmosphere was different. It was very quiet and only slight sobs could be heard from some people. My hands were still shaking to remember that, I was so lost in my memories and in my thoughts that I didn't even pay attention to Don Enmanuel's wake.

When I closed my eyes I had more reasons not to sleep at night. The days went by. I get the years, but that memory and feeling remained there. I felt the need to make someone pay for all my suffering... someone who was mine. To be able to end their life slowly as they ended mine.

At the age of thirty-five I found out that Lucia was pregnant. I had already graduated as a lawyer and also as a merchant. I had my own office and I was doing very well with the money. I have something to tell you what happened over the past few years, but now I will tell you the important thing: I didn't want the birth of my baby. For some reason I felt it would be a curse. Even if it was my first child, even if it was the result of love between a couple... I felt hatred, disgust and repulsion towards the fetus that was in her womb.

Seeing my wife's smile, made me stop before macabre acts of killing the fetus with some tea and things of dissolved pills and many attempts, but I stopped. Simply for that smile of light. This is the curse of loving, the curse of falling in love. The curse of wanting to stop so as not to hurt someone...

How long will my goodness take? How long will I be able to endure?

We found out there were two. Instead of one, there were two. Twins. And my head thought of the thousand ways to make one of them suffer... I was going to have the curse that had eaten me for years... the curse of suffering everything they made me live.

Adam and Dominick. That's what they were called.

One of the children was more silly than the other. He was weak, he was stupid.

My wife, when she was two years old, told me that one of the children seemed to be sick. He executed actions and forgot them, he even forgot that Adam was his brother and Lucia his mother. At that point we took him to a clinic and there they told us about the child's state: transient global amnesia, they said. He also had a lack of oxygen in the brain, caused when the breath or the heart stopped beating for too long.

The doctor told us that a concussion could cause absolute memory loss.

My head never stopped thinking about the thousand ways to end Dominick; for being weak, for having no future, because someone had to pay me and he would be that.

Sweet curse.