Chapter 41

Shay-Lee

"Are you asleep?" I asked, nudging my body closer to Camilo.

He grunted, flipped onto his side, and tucked his arm underneath the pillow.

"Not anymore. What time is it?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Three in the morning."

His brows pulled into a concerned frown before he reached to stroke my cheek. "Is everything okay?"

I nodded, leaning into his touch.

"You sure? It isn't your injuries?"

Even though my body was sore, that wasn't what kept me awake, but the questions I'd been digging into as he slept.

"Why were you sent to juvie?"

"Is that what you're thinking about at 3:00 a.m.?" He chuckled, then shifted to his back. He seemed to be in a much better mood than before we went to sleep, which helped me relax.

"Yes."

"Can't it wait until morning?"

"Absolutely not."

He snorted a laugh. "Fine… So which time are you asking about?"

"Which time? How many times were you there?"

"Three."

"You sure kept busy." I chuckled. "Let's start with the first time."

"Let's see…" He tucked his arms underneath his head while staring at the ceiling, and I took advantage of it to curl in his side. "The first time was in Florida. I told you that after my mom's death, we were sent to live there with my uncle, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"My uncle was a hideous man, the same as his brother. And unlike my dad, he didn't waste his days drinking but doing nasty jobs for bad men. Anyway, he lived in a bad neighborhood that reeked of crime. Naturally, Iván and I hung out with kids our age, only they were cruel motherfuckers.

"Those kids… teens, or whatever you want to call them, enjoyed hurting others for the sake of fun and boredom. Whether it was fighting among themselves or abusing innocent animals. It fucked me up, you know? The idea of someone hurting a helpless animal whose only crime was to be born."

And Camilo claims to be a monster himself? How can he not see how kind he is?

"One day, they found a bitch that just gave birth to a bunch of pups and decided to torture her. They kicked her body, stabbed her with sticks, and took away the pups." Camilo paused for a second before he could continue. "Iván was nowhere to be found, so I stopped them myself. I had no chance since there were five of them, and I was a ten-year-old kid, but I didn't care. They kicked my ass, but it wasn't enough, so they put me face-to-face with the bitch." As he told his story, his fingers drew circles on my skin. "You see, dogfighting was popular in that area, and that poor animal was tortured to fight in those awful pits. She was scared, starved, and had just lost her pups, so obviously, she charged at me."

My mouth fell open as I stared at him while his eyes were still fixed on the ceiling.

"You know how some people who've been through an accident say they don't remember much? Well, I wasn't that lucky. I remember every moment of the attack as if it happened yesterday. The fear in the bitch's eyes, her claws and fangs ripping my skin apart. The sound of laughter coming from those pricks while she tore me to shreds."

It grew harder and harder to listen, but I was the one who asked, so I swallowed back my ache for him and said nothing.

"It only stopped when I heard a gunshot, and the poor animal dropped dead."

When I first asked him about his scar, he said it was from a dog attack, only what I'd imagined didn't come close to his horror.

"What happened then?" I asked.

"I got up from the ground, my skin and muscle ripped apart, grabbed a brick that was there the whole time, and used it to smack the face of the guy who shot her."

I rose up and gaped at him. "What?"

"I smashed his face until he was unrecognizable and didn't stop even when the police sirens were heard, and all the others fled. I just couldn't. My vision went red, and I just… I wanted to kill him, but I didn't. The cops pulled me away before I could."

"If the brick was there all along, why didn't you hit the dog?" I asked, staring at him.

"Even though my instinct told me to fight, I couldn't bring myself to hurt her. Besides, it all happened so fast, I didn't think it through and just tried to keep my face away from her jaws."

It was beyond me how brave and mature he was from such a young age, but then again, he had no choice, considering what he went through.

Poking my nose, Camilo smiled at me softly. "Don't look so serious. It happened years ago."

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. "Why would they send you to juvie for that? I mean, you did the natural thing."

Camilo shrugged. "Not according to the court and the shrinks who decided I was a risk to public safety."

I slapped his chest. "Risk to public safety? That's bullshit."

Laughing, he pulled me on top of him while making sure not to touch my back. "I was ten years old and caved a man's face in with a brick, sending him to a year of recovery. What did you expect?"

This bullshit made me furious. Camilo did the right thing, protected the poor animal, and was punished for it? Where the fuck was justice?

"This pisses me off."

"You and I both, Llorón." He grinned, and at least he was smiling.

"Okay, what about the other two times?"

"Well." He rubbed his chin. "The second time wasn't really interesting. I was caught with a gun about a month after I was out of juvie and was sent for another round."

I frowned at him. "What were you doing with a gun?"

"Does it matter?"

I shrugged. "No."

"Good."

"Okay. The last time?"

"After I was released again, Iván and I went back to living with our dad in Cali. While I'd been to juvie, Iván was locked in jail for a few months, so when we got back home, if you could even call it that, we weren't the same. School seemed pointless, so I skipped it and wasted my time going around town when, one day, I bumped into him."

"Him?"

"The scum who raped Carmen and got away with it."

My jaw went slack, and I stared at him with my mouth open.

Holy shit.

"What did you do?"

"I followed him the whole day. I'm still not sure why I did it. I guess I was curious to see how he was still able to walk around freely after murdering my sister in cold blood. And you know what I found out?"

"What?"

"That he did it easily. The whole time I followed him, there wasn't even a second where he stopped and looked like he was holding on to some guilt—a bit of remorse. Since her death, there wasn't a day that went by without me feeling pain and regret over what happened to her. There were times I even felt guilty. But the man who was responsible for it didn't. He went to his classes in college, met with his friends, laughed, and ate like a pig. It pissed me the fuck off."

Sadly, I knew exactly what Camilo was describing. I'd been living with two devils of the same kind my whole life. After my mom's death, I often wondered how my father managed to pretend he wasn't bothered by it until I realized—he didn't have to pretend. He truly didn't care. He had no conscience whatsoever.

"That day, he went to a bar, and I followed him there, too. On his way back home, he probably sensed he had a shadow because he turned around and pulled a gun." Camilo laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You realize the irony? He was the one carrying a gun. Like he was the one who needed protection."

That was often the case. Those who most needed protection were left unarmed, while those who didn't carried a loaded gun.

"Anyway, the loser had no fucking clue how to hold a gun, and I got it out of his grip without even breaking a sweat. I then led him into an alley and forced him to his knees. I told myself that perhaps now, when he was forced to beg for his life, I'd see the remorse I sought so desperately. But there was none. His eyes were shallow and hollow, like the hell he came from."

"Did you kill him?"

Camilo stayed silent for a moment, then shook his head. "No. But I shot his dick off."

I jumped up. "Holy shit. Are you for real?"

Camilo's smile grew. "Fuck yeah, I'm real." He grinned. "He cried like a bitch, picking his dick up from the ground while screaming and puking all over the place until he was taken to the hospital."

That was fucking insane.

"Did they quickly catch you?" I asked, eager to hear the rest of the story like a child watching a movie.

"Didn't even try hiding. I stayed there until the police arrived and allowed them to take me. Turns out it was a good decision as it helped me with the trial."

"How long were you sentenced for?"

"Luckily for me, this fancy-ass law firm took my case pro bono and gave it to a young lawyer who managed to reduce my sentence to only fifteen months."

Out of words, I huffed. "Only fifteen months. You make it sounds like it's nothing."

Our bodies had become sweaty from being glued to each other, so I shifted only a little because I'd rather be sticky than be away from him.

"Well, yeah, it's a rather short sentence, considering my crime. But even if I had gotten more, I didn't care. Not back then. You see, Iván was in jail himself, so no one was waiting for me, and I had nothing to lose. Whether I was locked up in a cell or walking down the streets, it made no difference to me back then."

Climbing up, I leaned closer. "What about now?"

Locking eyes with me, Camilo touched my face and pushed my hair out of the way.

"Now I'd be losing my freaking mind."

Swallowing hard, I nodded. The mere thought of him being locked away from me struck me with unbelievable fear. I'd rather die than see that happen. Unable to control it, tears gathered in my eyes because the idea made me so lonely. And to think that a couple of hours ago, I was thinking of leaving.

"Hey, now," he whispered softly, wrapping my head in his arms and pressing me to his chest. "Why are you crying?"

"Because the thought of you going to jail scares the shit out of me," I admitted, sniffing and feeling bad because I was smearing his chest with snot.

Resting his cheek against the top of my head, he sighed. "I'm not going anywhere, so you have no reason to be afraid."

"Promise?"

"Sí, Llorón." He kissed the top of my head. "Until you, I never thought about my future. Ending up in jail seemed inevitable. Not anymore. Now, I'm willing to fight it, to do anything to ensure it would never happen, because ain't no way I'm leaving you alone."

Swallowing back my tears, I nodded, praying to God he meant his words.

"Now, then…" He tracked the wet trails on my cheek with his finger. "How about you tell me something about yourself?"

Biting my lip, I took a deep breath, already knowing where he was heading.

"Do I have to?" I asked, my voice weak.

"I already told you I'd never force you into anything. But I would appreciate it if you shared with me what he's doing to you."

"You saw what he did," I said and tried to move from on top of him, but he kept me still.

"Yeah, but why? And for how long? When did it start?"

Dropping my head against his chest, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting the sound of his heartbeat surround me.

"He's been controlling my life since the day I was born, but the violence didn't start until I was older. The first time he hit me, I was six. I spoke back to him, and in return, he slapped me on the mouth. In the following days, I was so scared to the point I peed myself when he talked to me. I can assure you that it has only gotten worse since."

"Why would he do that to you?"

That was the million-dollar question that often kept me awake at night.

"I don't know," I admitted, pulling my shoulders. "If I knew, maybe things could've been different." To assume my dad abused me simply because he hated me would be pure stupidity. If that were the case, my life would have been a hell of a lot easier because then I'd just detach myself from him. In reality, my dad had managed to convince himself, and me, that he loved me. He loved me so much it was sick.

"If I had to bet my money on it, I'd say it's the control. He needs to be in control of every aspect of his life, and suppressing me is just another way of it. He gets off on humiliating me. You should've seen the expression he had when I pissed myself out of fear that time. He just couldn't look away. It was pure insanity. He thrived on those moments like an addict who got his daily dose of drugs."

Camilo's stare hardened, and I could see the repulsion in his expression, so I forced a smile.

"Don't worry. I'm probably making it sound worse than it is."

He grabbed my hand. "Don't you dare minimize it," he said, his voice firm.

I nodded.

"What about yesterday?" he asked.

"Last night, he did what he did after finding out about the club… He had pictures from when we fucked in the public space. He was furious beyond words, and a part of me understood his anger."

"How could you say that?"

I shrugged, then focused my stare on our tangled fingers.

"He trained me well." I took a deep breath. "So well that now whenever he raises his hand to hurt me, a part of me believes I deserve it."

Straightening up, I moved to sit on his lap. "I don't want your pity, Camilo. In fact, I don't want anyone's sorrow. It's why I've never told a soul what I just shared with you, and I plan to keep it that way." He said nothing, so I went on. "My dad and I have a complicated relationship. He's a part of me, and he'll forever be a part of me. I hate him with all of my heart, and at the same time, I can't imagine my life without him. So you need to decide if it's something you can live with or not. Because if you can't cope with reality, I'd rather you just leave now—"

He shut me up with a kiss, leaving me breathless.

"Are you deaf, or are you playing stupid on purpose?" he said, using his thumb to press on my bottom lip while sliding his other hand to my ass. "I'm never letting you go." Pushing his fingers into my used hole, he opened me up, and I could feel his cum sliding out of me.

I hadn't cleaned up after we fucked earlier, and thank God for that.

I moaned, tilting my head back, and he seized the moment to sink his teeth into my neck while shoving his fingers deeper.

"F-fuck."

"Did I make myself clear?"

"Yes," I cried, already rutting myself against him. "Fuck yes."

"Good." He kissed my neck. "Because I fucking mean it." Making his point clear, Camilo then fucked me, like only he knew how to do, until morning came.