Carmela + Amos

Chapter 13 - Carmela

Dear Diary,

           When people describe me, I've often heard words like strong, audacious, and brave, but they don't realize that I'm none of those things deep down. I put up walls. Because as long as I don't reveal those inner, vulnerable layers, no one can take advantage. Except, people still find their way in, and the last time I let my guard down, I fell hard. I gave my entire heart only to have it crushed—the life drained with a fatal squeeze.

There were days I'd cry with every recollection because of how wounded my pride was. The ache spread like roots through my bones, taking hold of the pain—reminding me how incomplete I felt without that person. Other times, I was furious and wished I could bleach them from my memory. But the worst part of it all was being lost. There were so many unanswered questions—questions I still don't have the answers to.

However, I learned that when we give our hearts to others, we're handing them the power to either treasure them or shatter them against the ground. 

I let it happen to me twice. But only twice.

Rodrigo was the first to break me.

When I entered the hotel room that night after spending time with Ben, my husband was still awake, but he wasn't alone. Cigarette smoke filled the room in a thin veil with a whiff of marijuana while playing poker alongside Melody and Leo. His eyes were redder than a fire truck when he glanced up from his deck of cards and noticed me. The groupie sitting on his lap saw me too, but she didn't budge. Instead, she smiled, emphasizing the goth makeup caked on her face, and pushed aside her cheaply dyed, fuchsia hair. 

The sweetness I had shared with Ben dissolved as my insides ignited in rage. The groupie was a friend of Aurora's, so I knew she'd report back to her, and they'd all get a good cackle at my expense. 

"My sweet thing! Get in on this." Rodrigo patted his knee. "Play with us."

"Looks like your lap is occupied."

"What's the harm in sharing? It could be hot seeing you two make out." He patted his knee again.

"I hope you're joking." I folded my arms.

"Of course, I am. Off!" he snapped at the groupie, but when she didn't move, he shoved her, and the girl went bottoms up, hitting the ground with a grunt.

"Ouch! What the fuck, Rodrigo?"

"Did you really think I'd pick you over my wife?" 

"Well, you certainly did before she walked in!" The groupie got to her feet and smoothed down her mini skirt with bangles clanging around her wrist. 

"Oh, please. You think because I let you sit on my lap and flirt that you mean anything to me?" 

The groupie arched her brow and clenched her jaw, emphasizing her underbite. "Well, I'm sure your precious wife will care that you let Melody deep throat your—"

"What?" My gaze shot from her to Rodrigo and then to Melody.

In one blurred movement, my husband skyrocketed from his seat, sending the cards and poker chips tumbling to the carpet. The girl shrieked, but he slapped his palm over her mouth and backed her against the wall.

"Shut your mouth, you washed up, filthy whore. The only thing you're good for is spreading your legs and mouth. Both of which are so used up people need a tetanus shot after touching you!"  

I'd never seen Rodrigo move so fast or speak to a woman in such a cruel way. It was vile, and his expression so lethal he resembled a snarling dog snapping its jaw. Part of me worried he might crush her neck. Did she deserve his wrath for purposely hurting me? Maybe. Yet, my stomach churned as tears accumulated in her eyes at the sting of his words.