Paralyzed

La Promesa

God did let him live another day—a painful one, but he lived. After the beating, Andrés retreated to his room, seeking solace in the only thing that helped him escape from reality: painting and drawing. He began with the first images that came to mind—dinosaurs and memories of Sergio. For hours, he painted, pouring his emotions onto the canvas.

When he finally finished, he stared at his artwork, lost in thought about his little brother. He recalled Sergio's illness and how desperately he wanted to help him. This time, however, if he was going to provide support, it would be solely for Sergio. Andrés realized he had to steal again to provide for his brother—his only family and one of his few friends. Clenching his hands into tight fists, he got up, grabbed his backpack, and snuck out through his window.

Andrés knew that if he wanted to help his brother, he couldn't steal toys anymore; he needed money. As he walked down the street, he spotted a drugstore. He entered and headed straight for the aisle where the medications were stocked. His eyes fell on bottles of aspirin, but just as he was about to take one, he noticed a woman at the end of the aisle. The edge of her wallet hung from her coat, and an idea struck him.

As she passed by, Andrés pretended to trip. The woman quickly grabbed him to prevent his fall, helping him regain his balance. He thanked her profusely and exited the store. Once outside, he discreetly pulled her wallet from beneath his shirt. Inside, he found three €10 bills and three €20 bills—a total of €90. He pocketed the cash and dropped the wallet on the ground, making it appear as if the woman had inadvertently lost it. With that, he continued on his way, acting as if nothing had happened.

As the years went by, Andrés's criminal life worsened. He graduated from pickpocketing to stealing medicine from drugstores. He sent both the money and the medicine to his brother, hoping to help him. As a result, he grew closer to Sergio, bringing him more presents, but it was a constant struggle. They spoke on the phone regularly, but each time, the conversation followed the same pattern: his mother would answer and beg for forgiveness, while Andrés threatened to stop sending money unless she handed the phone to Sergio.

Despite the tension, they managed to see each other occasionally. When they did, Andrés always let his brother win at every game they played, allowing Sergio to enjoy the victory. He would occasionally win a game, just enough to keep Sergio from suspecting that he was always winning out of kindness rather than skill.

Andrés confided in Sergio about everything: how he made the money, his desire to help, and his commitment to being the best brother he could be. When Sergio was eight years old, tragedy struck—his father, Jesús, died while robbing the Spanish-American Bank. Andrés was there for Sergio during the funeral and burial, offering comfort during that difficult time.

After Jesús's death, the bond between Andrés and Sergio grew even stronger. When Sergio finally overcame his illness, he urged Andrés to stop sending money, and Andrés complied.

Now at fifteen years old, Andrés had escalated to stealing electronics, captivated by the adrenaline rush and the thrill of evading authorities. He had nearly been caught multiple times but was too crafty for the police. Every store owner in Anchuras knew of him; they recognized his cleverness and his knack for finding a way to enter a store and take what he wanted, with no one able to stop him.

One night, the two brothers shared supper in a park. Sergio noticed that Andrés seemed lost in thought. Concerned, he asked, "Are you okay, Andrés? You look a little distant..."

Andrés sighed, "It's just that for all these years, I've been stealing to help you. Even though you don't need money anymore because you're cured, it still feels like I'm not doing enough. I feel like I have to do more..." He looked at Sergio earnestly. "Hermanito, I promise you, I'll do anything for you."

He pulled his little brother close and hugged him tightly. As Andrés felt Sergio crying on his shoulder, he tried to comfort him. Sergio was confused by his brother's intense promises and his unwavering presence. They didn't even share the same biological father, yet Sergio didn't complain. A wave of guilt washed over him; he felt as if he were invading Andrés's life and didn't want his brother to feel obligated to care for him.

Concerned, Sergio asked, "Andrés, what do you mean by anything?"

Andrés met his gaze and replied, "When I say anything, I mean anything—literally."

"So, if I'm in trouble or in danger, you would be there for me?"

"I'll do anything to protect you, Sergio. Even if I have to die for you, I'll die to make sure you're safe."

"But we don't even have the same biological father; we're only half-siblings. Why are you doing all this? Don't you want to live your life? I love you, Andrés—don't take it wrong. I just feel bad because it seems like I'm invading your life, like you can't do anything because of me."

"Sergio, don't you dare say that. First of all, even though we don't share the same father, my biological father is a piece of shit. He's never been there for me and has only ever beaten me. That's been my whole childhood, and it's still happening. Compared to my father, yours did everything he could to help you. He robbed for you! Do you know what that means? You were his priority. Look at me—I'm nothing to anybody. Not to Mom, not to my dad. Hell, I don't even know if I mean anything to you."

"Andrés, you mean the world to me. Now that Mom's sick and I don't even know if she's going to be okay, I heard the doctor say it's very bad and I—"

Andrés cut him off, his heart racing. "Wait, Mom is sick?"

"Yes," Sergio replied, his voice heavy with sadness.

"What does she have?"

"Helmer's Myopathy. It's a rare degenerative neurological disease. It's terminal... which means she can't be cured."

Andrés's eyes filled with tears. "How long?"

"It's been a couple of weeks. Mom tried to contact your dad for help, but he didn't..."

"What the fuck? My father knows Mom's sick?"

Sergio gulped, nodding. "Yes."

Andrés stood up, snatched his jacket, and stormed off. "Where are you going?" Sergio called after him.

Without looking back, Andrés replied, "I'm going to talk with my dad."