45| red

NADIA

It couldn't be. It was impossible, right? This had all been a horrible nightmare, and when I awoke, it would all be gone, right? My mother's words shattered the fragile hope I clung to. "If you don't believe your own mother over some stupid boy you've only known for two seconds, then ask your brother."

I shook my head, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "It's not about that, Mom." My mom's eyes rolled in exasperation. "Then what is it, sweetheart?"

"It's the principle, Mom," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "The principle that you kept this from me for years. Our lives are in danger... and Dad's..." My voice cracked, and I couldn't finish the sentence. The thought of my dad's situation felt like a weight crushing my chest.

My mom's expression turned stern. "You weren't there to experience it all," she said, her voice laced with a mix of sadness and frustration.

I scoffed, feeling a surge of defensiveness. "It's not like I know what it's about, right? Either way, I'm glad I wasn't." My mom's glare intensified. "Don't talk as if you know everything," she snapped.

"I'm not, Ma," I said, trying to keep my tone even. "I'm just stating facts." My mom's words cut deep, though. "The thing is, you're quick to judge," she continued, her voice heavy with emotion. "You don't even know half of it. You don't know what I've had to endure, everything I've been through, what I had to do, why I wanted you in therapy, why I wanted to keep it a secret. I wanted you to have a normal life, free from the darkness that consumed mine. I wanted better for you. And you act like this? Is this how you thank me? All because of some stupid boy who's probably using you to get his revenge?"

My body stilled, my throat dry, my eyes burning with unshed tears. The words stung, and I felt like I'd been punched in the gut.

"You're something, you know that? You really want to turn this around on me, act like I don't understand what you've been through when you've given me nothing but silence and secrets? Dad's dying, my brother's fighting for his life, and somehow I'm supposed to be the one who's understanding? Get real, Catherine." The moment I said her name, I felt a spark of defiance.

"On top of that, you want to lecture me about being understanding? When were you there for me after I found out my entire life was been a lie? When the one good thing in my life turned out to be the worst thing that could happen to me? If therapy's such a burden, fine. I'll never ask you for anything again. I'd rather die than relive those nightmares, those images that haunt me, just to satisfy your convenience.

"You know what I remember? It started when I was a toddler. You want to play the victim card, act like you're the only one who's suffered? Think again. There's a lot you don't know, a lot you still have to learn. And thanks for being there, by the way. I'm really grateful." My voice dripped with sarcasm.

___

I stepped into the guestroom where my brother lay motionless, the tension between my mom and me still simmering in the air. The awkwardness was palpable, like a third presence in the room, but we had to put our differences aside for Zeke's sake.

After cleaning his crimson-stained wound and removing his shirt, my mom had left me alone with him, trusting me to stay by his side until he woke up. I hoped he would never find out I had sacrificed my sleep for him; otherwise, I would never hear the end of it.

The room was oppressively quiet, and the silence made me uneasy. I wasn't used to it; my brother always had a witty remark or a sarcastic comment ready. I missed the sound of his voice, the banter we usually shared. I tapped him gently, trying to make a joke. "You can quit playing possum now." My voice was laced with humor, but my heart was heavy with worry.

Zeke had always teased me about my lack of humor, and I had always pretended to be offended. But now, I realised he was right. I was far from funny.

And then, a miracle happened – he spoke up. I gasped, "Jeez, even on my deathbed, you can't even be funny." I gasped again, my hand flying to my chest.

As revenge, I poured some cold water on his face, and he flinched, his eyes flying open with a glare. I quickly broke into a smile. "I thought you might need it." He shooed me away, wiping his eyes as he tried to sit up, grunting in the process.

"Whoa, take it easy," I said, adding more pillows behind him and helping him slowly. "This is not my first rodeo, sis," he said, his voice weak but laced with his usual confidence. I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. "Yeah whatever,"

"How are you feeling?" I asked, handing him a fresh glass of water. "Fine," he responded, his voice weak but determined. "But whoever did this will end up worse." My heart skipped a beat, and I pulled back, my eyes locking onto his. "Did you see who it was?"

"No, but I'm pretty sure it was a hitman," he said, his eyes narrowing. "It's clear the aim wasn't to kill me, but if not that, then what?"

"I know," my mom said, her voice dripping with familiarity. She stood in the doorway, a whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I scrunched up my face at the smell. "Can you please do that somewhere else?"

"Last time I checked, this is my house, and I can do whatever I want," she said, her tone firm. I fought the urge to roll my eyes for the hundredth time. Zeke's eyes flicked between us, his gaze curious.

"What did I miss?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

Mom and I exchanged a glance. "Nothing," she said, her voice sweet. "We were just worried about you. Isn't that right, sweetheart?" She looked at me, and I followed her lead, forcing a smile.

"I wasn't born yesterday, you know?" Zeke said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"We know," I said, trying to keep the conversation light. "But it's time for you to rest now."

Zeke's gaze locked onto mine, and he somehow managed to pull me closer. "Sis, you know you can tell me anything, right?" he whispered, his voice full of conviction. I nodded, tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. I blinked them away quickly.

"Whoever hurts you doesn't just have to deal with me but an entire army of men, okay?" he said, his voice low and deadly. "So tell me now, and they'll be gone before the sun rises."

The words got stuck in my throat. I couldn't say it. A war raged inside my head – one side screaming at me to admit it all, the other side warning me not to risk more lives.

"Don't worry," I said, trying to sound confident. "No one could ever dare to mess with me now." I forced a smile, trying to reassure him.

"That's how a Mendez speaks," he grinned, a proud smile on his face as I rested my head on his shoulder.

That whole night, I hoped and prayed for not only my dad's recovery but also that Elijah wasn't responsible for all this. The thought sent a shiver down my spine. If he was… it's be the end of us.