Chapter 50

Shay-Lee

"Come here, ni?o. I'll help you with your hair," Rosa said, holding the hair dryer while she waited next to the dresser in the bedroom.

"That's why you're my favorite lady." I smiled at her, and as usual, she rolled her eyes at my cheesiness.

After I sat on the stool, Rosa stood behind me to blow-dry my hair, which had grown quite long. I often cut it right above my shoulders; now, it fell below them. Camilo loved running his fingers through my hair, and I loved it when he did, so I kept it longer. I never brought it up to him, but I was convinced touching my hair relaxed him.

"Are you excited about today?" Rosa asked, taking my mind away from my perfect man.

"Yeah, sure."

She smacked the back of my head.

"Don't treat it so casually." Her hand moved to my shoulder, giving me a slight squeeze. "Be proud, ni?o. Graduating high school is a big thing." She then put the hair dryer aside and looked at me through the mirror with her soft eyes. "Your mother would have been very proud of you."

The mention of my mom was a stab to the heart. After so many years with her gone, the pain wasn't about longing but the acceptance she wasn't here. But it wasn't just pain but guilt that twisted my guts. After all, she was killed because of me. If I had just listened to my father, she'd still be alive. But I didn't listen, and now, she was six feet under. But that was a secret.

My secret.

And I planned to keep it that way.

"You think so?" I asked Rosa, shifting my mind away from that darkness. "Because I'm not sure she'd be proud." A part of me was relieved my mom wasn't here to witness the things I'd done. No matter how much I tried to redeem my past, nothing would ever change the way I'd hurt others. I was a bully, and throughout my four years of high school, I'd ruined the lives of people whose names I didn't even know.

Taking a section of my hair in her hand, Rosa began brushing it. "Why would you say that?"

"I've done bad things."

"We all have. The question is, are you sorry about those things?"

I nodded.

"Will you repeat them?"

I shook my head. "No. At least, I hope not." Camilo made me want to be a better person.

Her lips curled. "So, you are all good, ni?o. Because this here"—she patted my heart—"was good ever since you were a little boy."

I'm sure as fuck going to miss her.

Moved by her affection, which I didn't deserve, I broke our stare and coughed. It was hard to believe anyone saw any kindness in me. Especially someone as good as her.

"So, who is paying for this place?" Rosa asked, changing the subject while looking around.

"A guy." I paused, then rethought my words. "A man would be more suitable."

"You always knew how to charm hearts."

"Can't argue with that." Although, I no longer cared about charming any heart other than Camilo's.

"But you also always knew how to break them." She chuckled to herself. "Like that cute boy you once brought with you."

Confused, I turned to look at her. "What are you talking about?"

"The beautiful young man with aquarium eyes."

I knew a lot of people with pretty eyes, but only one matched that description. "Are you talking about Jordan?"

"Yes, Jordan."

What in the world made her bring him up? With Iván's death and the hatching of my revenge plan, I had little to no time at all to think about Jordan. In fact, since the night he returned and found out about Camilo and me, I hadn't heard back from him. It wasn't that I didn't care for him, but he simply wasn't a priority with everything that was going on.

"You know, he's been staying at the house for the last few weeks."

"He what?" I jumped to my feet.

Jordan just became a priority.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

Rosa took a step back, her expression confused. "Oh, for some reason, I thought you knew that he'd been living in the guest house."

I stared at her with wide eyes. "He what?"

"Don't worry, Shay-Lee. I know Se?or Rogers is treating the boy well." Her efforts to calm me down were useless.

Never in his life did my father treat anyone well, and there was no reason for him to start now. Was this his plan all along? To bring Jordan back and use him as bait to lure me in?

Grabbing my phone from where it was tossed on the bed, I quickly dialed Camilo. I had to tell him we needed to get Jordan out of my house immediately, but he wasn't answering.

"Damn you," I hissed and tried again. After being sent to voicemail for the second time, I tried reaching someone else.

"Shay-Lee?" He sounded surprised and out of breath as he picked up.

Right before I could speak, the doorbell rang. Checking the time, I saw there was still an hour before Dion was supposed to arrive, so what the fuck?

"Hold on just a second," I said to the other line, placed my phone on the dresser, and looked at Rosa. "Wait here, okay?"

She nodded.

The bell rang once more, so I increased my pace. With a grunt, I reached for the handle. "Jesus Christ," I said while opening the door. "We said we'd meet in an hour—Orson?" My lips twisted in a snarl as I hissed his name and placed my hand on the doorframe, forbidding him from stepping in. "What are you doing here?"

"Is that how you greet your guests?" he tsked.

"Is my father here?" My brows pulled close. "If so, tell him I won't see him until later. As we scheduled." For my plan to work, my father needed to be here only after I was with Dion, or else what was the point?

Orson made that awful sound with his tongue while rubbing his jaw with a gloved hand. "You see… there was a change of plan." He smiled and then pushed me into the apartment, forcing his way in.

"Get out," I snapped as he closed the door behind him.

"Now, why would I do that?" He smirked.

My body tensed as my panic rose, yet I wasn't about to back down. Assuming Orson was probably just trying to mess with me like he often did, I straightened my posture. "I'm not alone," I warned.

"Is that so?" Still standing by the door, he flicked his suit jacket open, revealing the black shirt underneath.

"Yes, so you better leave."

"I don't mind the company."

He didn't react the way I wanted him to, and it rubbed me the wrong way. There was something different about his attitude today, but I couldn't tell what, so I tried the method that usually worked.

"You better get out, or I'll tell my father." I pointed at him, but Orson remained unfazed with a smile still glued to his face.

What's going on?

The bedroom door opened, and Rosa walked out.

"Is everything okay, ni?o?" she asked, and I turned around to tell her to go back inside and wait when a popping sound pierced the air, and in what seemed to be like a split second, Rosa's head was thrown back, blood splattering on the wall behind her as her body dropped to the floor like a rock.

My eyes widened with shock, and my mouth opened as I continued to stare at the blood covering the walls and then down at Rosa's body. Slowly peeling my eyes away, I moved my horrified stare to meet Orson. He was standing with his gun pulled out, the silencer still pointed at where Rosa had stood just a few seconds ago.

"W-what have you done?" I swallowed hard.

"I told you I didn't mind the company."

"R-Rosa?" I whispered, my voice cracking. Too afraid to look back, I did anyway, only to see she was really dead.

My mouth opened in a voiceless cry as I stepped back, trying to get away from Orson, only to stumble on my feet and fall inches away from Rosa's head. Her eyes were wide open while blood was pouring out of the bullet hole between them.

"Oh God." It felt like I was kicked in the chest. "Oh God," I cried, unable to breathe.

"This is a nice building." Orson walked toward me while looking around, unfazed that he'd just killed someone. "New, no neighbors. Makes it a whole lot easier."

"Stay away!" I screamed and tried to crawl back, but then my hand touched something warm and sticky, and I brought it up to see it was red.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

My stomach flipped a moment before I threw up. The awful taste, mixed with the strong scent of vomit and blood, made me hurl more. And while I was breathlessly heaving, Orson laughed from above me.

"Really? Over some blood? I expected more from you."

Brushing my mouth with the back of my other hand, I tried to stand on shaky legs, only for Orson to kick me from behind. I fell face-first on the floor.

"We're tired of your little games," he said, then crouched beside me.

"Get away!" I yelled, trying to slap his hideous face.

"Very tired." Pushing my hand away, he grabbed my hair and yanked my head back.

"D-don't touch me," I somehow managed to spit. "He'll kill you if you do. You know that." Right. I needed to use the only card I had left. "My dad will kill you for doing this to me." I spoke fast, my lips curling into a nervous smile I couldn't control. "So you can't touch me. You can't."

Orson's brows curved close, and he gave me an amused look. "What are you talking about?" He clenched his fist harder around my hair. "I'm here under his orders."

Hearing him say that was like listening to my own death sentence.

"Oh, look at you, looking so frightened." He caressed my jaw. "You truly are gorgeous." Biting his bottom lip, he then ducked his head down and tried to kiss me, but I pushed him away and got out from underneath him.

I stood again and dashed for the door. With trembling hands, I unlocked it, but before I could escape, Orson yanked me back forcefully, then tossed me to the floor.

I gasped as he kicked my back, the pain spreading through my body, and cried with pain as once again he gripped my hair and pulled it from the roots.

"Stop, please, stop," I begged, tears running down my face. "Dad, please, I'm sorry." My screams ripped my throat. "Please, Dad, I know you can hear me." It was my last hope. If Orson was here, it meant my dad was too. "Dad, please, I'll be good, I promise, please."

Orson laughed, but that didn't stop me.

"Dad, please! I love you, I'm sorry. I'll do anything, just please—" Choking on my own words, I began coughing.

My vision blurred, and my head pounded. I was scared, fucking terrified, but my fear helped me with nothing because my dad didn't suddenly show up, and Orson didn't miraculously stop. Far from it, even. While I was crying like never before, Orson was laughing his heart out.

Pressing his shoe to my face, he nudged it aside so I'd meet his stare, then hovered above me. "You know, he and I made a bet. I said it would take you at least an hour before you'd start screaming for him, but he said it would take no longer than ten minutes." He checked his watch. "Looks like he won."

My face burned with shame. I didn't want to call out for him, but he was all I had. Since the day I was born into this horrible world, my father was the only thing I had. He'd kept me safe until I foolishly pushed him away, and now, I was being punished for my stupidity.

No.

This isn't true.

I had Camilo.

Right?

Camilo was mine. I knew it. Deep down, I knew it.

Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine his face and somehow succeeded. The warmth of his touch gave me a little bit of comfort, and I moved my hand to my necklace, his necklace, remembering our promise to get married and live a happy life. This fairy tale was washed quickly away as I opened my eyes and spotted Rosa's body.

Struck with nausea, I shifted my head aside and hurled again, gagging when I choked on my own vomit.

"Eww," Orson hissed. "Are you going to keep doing it the whole time?"

I coughed, cleared my mouth, and shook my head.

"No, no, please," I pleaded again, not caring for being as pathetic as they thought I was. "Please, Orson, please. Let me speak to him. I'll do anything. Just let me speak to him."

Orson gave me a pitiful look before his lips quirked up, and I saw him for the monster he was.

"I'm afraid your father is unavailable at the moment."

When he moved to grab me, I punched him in the side of his face. He backed off, and I took advantage of the situation and once again darted toward the door, but he tackled me, and I fell down on my stomach. The hit knocked the wind out of me, and I gasped, even more so when he kicked the side of my body.

"You little shit," he snapped, then grabbed my ankle.

"What are you doing—" My words were cut off by a snapping sound. Sharp pain shot through me like lightning, an unbearable amount of pain. My stomach swirled, and I puked, crying and sobbing through the burn in my throat.

"Jesus, you going again?" Orson mocked while twisting my ankle even more, and I screamed like never before. Forcing myself to look down at my ankle, I saw it was twisted in an unnatural way. My vision darkened, and I began to lose consciousness when Orson slapped my face.

"Nah, you're not falling asleep on me," he said with unbelievable pleasure, then scrunched up his nose. "You smell like shit."

He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt before he started walking, dragging me behind him. My ankle hurt with each move, shooting waves of agonizing pain through my body, and I screamed with the slightest touch. Once we reached the bathroom, Orson tossed me into the shower and began spraying me with water as if I were an animal ready for slaughter. Perhaps that was what I was.

"We need to wash all that vomit off of you."

Shielding my face from the cold spray, I sobbed. Bucked up against the tiles and curled into myself, I somehow thought it would help, only it didn't. Turning off the water, Orson showed no mercy and pulled me out. Ignoring my leg, he stripped me naked. My screams and protests did nothing, and by the time he tossed me over the bed, I had no more power left to fight him.

"Please." I didn't even sound like a human. "Please."

With blurred vision, I saw him putting his gun on the dresser before he began taking off his clothes. The room turned black, and when I opened my eyes again, he was above me, half naked.

"Now I see why he's so obsessed with you," he whispered, dragging his tongue along my neck. "You're impossible to resist." He kissed me. "God, I've waited years to do this."

Feeling his breath over my skin hurt just as much as my ankle, and I was ready to give up when I remembered my promise to Camilo that I'd be safe. With power I didn't know I had, I punched him off me and rolled off the bed. I couldn't walk, so I crawled on the floor, desperate to escape.

"You keep putting up a fight, even when you know it's pointless." Orson's voice came from behind me, but I didn't stop. I had a future with Camilo, one I wasn't about to give up on.

But my life never went the way I planned, and when Orson grabbed my other leg and twisted my ankle until it broke, too, I nearly died on the spot. The physical pain alone I could have somehow borne, but not combined with the pain of knowing I'd just lost everything.

I had played a dangerous game and lost. Now, it was time to pay a price I couldn't afford.

Throwing me on the bed, he flipped me to my stomach, every movement of him sharp and aggressive. "This will do the job," Orson said after he tied my hands behind my back.

My face was sunk into the sheets while both my ankles throbbed. It felt like all the blood in my body flowed to my legs and stopped there. It was hot but also cold. So fucking cold.

"You really thought you had us, didn't you?" he sneered, moving his hand down my back until reaching my ass.

I stilled.

"You thought you'd manage to escape." I heard the sound of a zipper being lowered. "Sorry to tell you, but you're going nowhere," he whispered in my ear. "Your father said I'm free to do whatever I see fit as long as I keep you alive and your face untouched."

His erection rubbed against the small of my back.

"You deserve everything that you're about to get."

He pushed in, and I wished I had the luxury of passing out again. But I had no such privilege, and I was wide-awake from the second he forced his way into me and throughout the whole time his body panted on top of me. His weight, his scent, his breath, his thrusts—all were enough to ruin everything that I'd managed to build with Camilo.

With every movement, he ripped another part of my soul, so much so that I doubted anything was left.

Did I deserve this? Maybe, even though I doubted any human deserved this kind of punishment. But then again, I didn't feel like one. A human, that is. Because the second he forced his way in, he stole it—my humanity.

Orson took it away without a hint of remorse.

They both did.

And while this wasn't my first time being taken against my will, it was the worst one because, unlike before, now Camilo was all I thought about.

His touch, his lips, his hug. All those things that made me feel so secure came back to haunt me as I was being torn into shreds. Everything we'd said and promised to one another turned out to be pointless because here I was, lying on my stomach while Orson moved above me, his sweat and cum desecrating my body.

My eyes were already dried out of tears, and my throat was empty of screams.

My mind kept trying to go back to Camilo, but I kept refusing it and forced myself to remain here in this hell. I couldn't bear to mix those precious experiences with this never-ending nightmare. Those sacred moments were the last bit of sanity left for me to hold on to, and what would happen to me if I lost them, too?

But then something happened.

Two shots had pierced the air, and the unbearable weight had lifted off my body.

Opening my eyes, I saw the sheets were painted red. Scared, I looked aside to find Orson's body half tossed on the bed, half on the floor with one bullet in his head and another in his chest.

A hand touched my shoulder, and I froze before someone turned me around. The whole room spun, and it wasn't until I blinked several times before I saw who it was. The second our eyes met and I saw the darkness lurking in his stare, I knew it was the end.