2. Josiah

Ilet out a light chuckle as I watch my abuela fuss over me. "Abuela, I"m fine," I reassure her. She hasn"t stopped taking care of me, as if she"s worried I"ll vanish into thin air. She tucks the blanket neatly underneath my legs and murmurs "Cállate" under her breath.

I reach for her hand, and she stops abruptly, rambling in Spanish. I can hear the love and concern in her voice. Lines of worry etch her wrinkled face, and I can"t help but feel grateful for having her in my life.

I call out "Abuela" once again, and this time, she stops in her tracks, turning to face me. Her once golden-whiskey eyes now have lighter portions in the iris and are filled with a profound sadness that is difficult to ignore.

With a pained expression and tears welling up in her eyes, she says in Spanish, "Mi querido. You have always been in mi corazón. I never stopped praying for you. I begged your abuelo to look after you, to make sure you were never alone." Tears flow down Abuela's face faster than my heartbeat as she sits beside me. "You broke my heart." Her voice cracks, ripping my soul apart.

The room fills with the heaviness of our shared emotions as I watch her break down. The mention of Abuelo stirs up a rush of memories and feelings inside me, memories of a kind-hearted man who always did his best to save us from Dad. When Abuelo passed away, my hope of being saved came to an end.

"I know, Abuela," I respond, trying to comfort her. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to cause you so much pain," I murmur, my tone full of regret.

Abuela shakes her head. "Don't say that, mijo. I am just grateful that you're here with us, safe now."

"I don't want you to worry anymore, Abeula. I'm going to survive this," I promise her.

She takes hold of my face with her hands and gently squeezes. "I have every right to worry about you. You are my grandson, and I love you so much."

Abuela, speaking in a gentle and loving tone, moves closer to me. "You have always been so brave, so resilient. The fact that you are alive after what happened, it shows your strength—like your abuelito. I am so proud of you, mijo."

The tears clinging to my lashes, fighting to stay put, finally give up the battle and roll down my cheeks. Overwhelmed with emotion, I take a deep breath, gather my composure, and speak from my heart. "You"ve always been there for me. You say I have strength, but the truth is, you are the strongest and most loving person I know."

"Mi querido," she whispers, her voice quivering.

"You are, Abuela," I say with compassion. "You took care of Mom, Sade, and Sophia. Not many would have your strength to help them get through it, and you did it even when you were barely holding it together."

When Abuela entered the hospital room and broke down, my heart shattered. A tormented feeling ripped through me as I watched three strong women fall apart for me.

Every moment I spent away from them was torture, not knowing what they were going through, especially after Vic showed me a video of Sade's reaction as they lowered my casket. Her face was buried in Donnie"s chest as she tightly clung onto him, grasping at his shirt like it was the only thing keeping her afloat in a sea of sorrow. At that moment, I had shut my emotions off and let the darkness swallow me whole, knowing that was the only way I would survive.

"Don't you ever thank me for loving all of you." Abuela kisses my cheek and gives me a tender smile. "I will always be by your side, mi corazón. You are not alone in this."

A gentle tap resonates through the room. The door creaks open, and my mom peeks her head in. "Is everything okay?" she asks, gripping the doorframe.

"Yeah, Mom, we"re good," I assure her, my lips curling into a smile.

She hobbles into the room, leaning heavily on her cane. Her steps are slow and unsteady, but she perseveres, making her way to the end of the bed. Abuela embraces me. "Te amo, Jo," she whispers in my ear.

"I love you too," I say, kissing her cheek softly.

She cradles my face in her hands once more and smiles at me, a smile that speaks volumes of her love and affection.

Abuela rises from her chair and squeezes Mom's hand before announcing she is going to the cafeteria to grab a cup of coffee.

"Are you okay?" I ask Mom as she sits beside me on the bed, gently placing her cane on the mattress. With a heavy sigh, a small sob escapes her throat. I rush to hold her hand. "Mom, I"m okay."

Though my physical wounds might heal on the outside, I fear the terrifying struggle to maintain my sanity and my ability to control the urge to destroy anything in my path. Like there's a vicious storm of anger, pain, and betrayal inside me that swirls intensely, on the brink of unleashing its venomous fury.

Sadness sweeps over me when I think of how much Mom has suffered. Watching her limp, it's difficult to accept that this will most likely be permanent. Even though Sade says she"s been doing better, her heart is still breaking, not just for the loss of her husband, but for her children who have succumbed to violence and come near death.

"Come here," I coax her until she"s in my arms; her tiny body trembles against mine.

Tears stream down my mother"s face as she buries her head in my chest, and I hold her tight. "Oh, mijo," she sobs.

I stroke her hair and murmur reassuringly. "Shh, it"s okay, Mom. Todo estará bien."

She pulls back and looks up at me, her eyes red and puffy. "You never got the chance to be a little boy," she says, shaking her head and looking away. "You spent so much time protecting me and your sister from your father. It wasn"t right to have your childhood taken from you. I should"ve done a better job of protecting you both."

I take her face in my hands. "Mom, look at me," I say softly but firmly. She meets my gaze, and I can see the pain and regret on her face. "You did all you could given the situation," I tell her. "We are strong because of you." But she shakes her head, clearly not believing me.

"Yes, Mom, it"s true," I continue. "Look at all that we've overcome. Look at what Sadie's survived." My voice breaks at the end as I think of my sister, who has suffered so much but who is making a life for herself despite that. "It's proof of how much she's overcome that she is able to raise a beautiful little girl while working and finishing high school so she can take care of her daughter's needs."

Mom's eyes, brimming with tears, slowly lift to meet mine. "No child should ever have to suffer to be strong." Her breath catches in her throat, and she continues. "Your father should have treated you and your sister with love and care, protecting you from the demons of this world." She places her hands on my chest to emphasize the importance of what she's telling me.

I grab her wrists to hold her still. "Mom, listen to me. Yes, it fucking sucked that Sade and I were defenseless and had to grow up quicker than most kids. We had to adapt to live to see the next day, but we had each other. Look how quickly Sadie adjusted her life to becoming a mother at such a young age. You couldn"t tell by looking at her that her life wasn't filled with rainbows and unicorns, but we don"t blame you. Not anymore." Mom cries harder and leans on my chest.

I hold back my own tears, forcing myself to be strong for her. I know she blames herself for what happened. "You have no idea how much your willingness to survive meant to us," I whisper. "It gave us the strength to face all the challenges that came our way. We overcame everything because you showed us that anything is possible." I gently lift her chin and wipe away a tear from her cheek, holding her gaze so she knows how much I mean it. "So stop blaming yourself," I say, repeating Sade's words to me from her last visit. "You didn"t deserve the pain that Papi put you through either."

Her body bears witness to the battles she"s fought. The scars that mark her skin tell the story of a warrior who has been through hell and back. She has known defeat and been knocked down time and time again, but she has never given up. She faced her fears head-on for years, even though she had every reason to run away. Even when faced with the most formidable obstacles, she refused to be beaten down by life. Papi may have tried to break her, but he never had the power to defeat her. Proof that you can survive hell and emerge victorious, stronger than before—this is what my mom represents.