My grip on the picture frame tightens. It’s been two weeks, and my parents still haven’t made an announcement. No one even knows she’s gone besides us. Three days after she passed, we had a tiny private funeral for which I’m thankful for. I’m glad it was just us and not hundreds of people who really didn’t give a shit anyway. I didn’t want their pity or pretend apologies. People only cared when it benefited them, and someone would ultimately use the gathering as a way to form an alliance or strike a deal.
I’m glad he didn’t let that happen, but I still don’t understand why he’s keeping it a secret. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised knowing that he has been keeping all kinds of truths hidden. But not acknowledging that she’s gone enrages me more than anything.
Did she matter so little to him? Does he not want to honor her memory?
So many unanswered questions are running through my mind, and the worst of it all, I don’t think I will ever get answers to them.
Placing the picture back on the bedside table, I get up, ready to leave the room when a loud crashing sound comes from downstairs. One minute, the house is completely silent; the next, all hell breaks loose.
Men are yelling, shots are fired, my sister and mother are screaming, and I panic and run out into the hallway, needing to get to them. I can’t lose anyone else. I’ll die before I do.
I don’t make it but one step out of Adela’s room before I’m tackled to the ground and pushed to the floor face-first.
“Get the fuck off me!” I throw back my elbow at my attacker, but he doesn’t budge.
My face is turned toward the open door, a knee pressed into my back as I’m helplessly forced to watch four men in tactical gear enter my dead sister’s room. The letters FBI are written on the back of their bulletproof vests.
What the hell are the feds doing here?
That question disappears into thin air as the four men start to tear apart Adela’s room.
“No! Leave her stuff alone!” I yell over the noise, but no one is listening. They tear off her bedsheets and flip over her mattress, knocking down the picture frame in the process. Carelessly, they walk all over her stuff, not looking where their heavy boots are landing. I can feel tears building in my eyes. My anger is so profound it’s all I can feel.
I might be my father’s son, but I have a heart, and it beats proudly for my family. One of them steps on her picture, the glass crunching beneath his foot, and the sound penetrates my heart. In a haze of despair and fury, I watch as they destroy her room. Tainting all of her stuff… the only thing I have left of her.
“Hey, you okay?” Ren’s voice drags me back to reality. I shake away the memory, but I can’t shake away the feelings it brought on. The loss of control, the pain, the agony of watching the last memories you have of someone being ripped to pieces.
Pain echoes through my chest with every beat of my heart.Will I ever be okay?
I think of Aspen, and that only intensifies my rage. I know it’s not her fault, that it’s her father’s, but that doesn’t change anything, not in my mind.
To me, she’s the enemy, and the stunt she just pulled put a bright red X on her back. Aspen will suffer the consequences of her actions because not only will I not be seen as weak in front of my peers. I won’t let her think for a second that she has a chance at winning control over her life back.