Blood On Her Hands

Chapter 6

I needed to get out of the house.

It was an itchy sensation that I felt underneath my skin. It was an itch that could only be scratched by fresh air and space from Julio's words.

A day later and still I could not stop thinking about what he said. It was certainly an effective way for him to get me to stop pressing him about his drinking habits and rebellious streak. All I could focus on instead was trying to discern if he truly meant what he said and if it held any truth.

Respect was such a foundational aspect of any relationship. If my family didn't respect me, then certainly I would have felt that sooner than Julio would have taken notice. Certainly it would have caused riffs that would have sent me out to live on my own despite the economic strain it would have put me in.

"Where are you going?"

I was a foot from the door, shoving my laptop in my bag to take with me to the library. I couldn't work at home. Not while knowing Julio thought so lowly of me and that there was a gun in the house everyone but me was supposed to know about.

There was a permanent stain on all of my family members and I. A stain of never drying worry and concern for me left by mother's blood. Julio was my very first fresh start. He wasn't alive when it all happened. He didn't have the capacity to understand that I had needed extra care while growing up and that it somehow meant I was weaker than the rest. His wide eyed gaze looked up at me and saw his awesome cousin who could blow bubbles like a pro and tucked him into bed the best. I knew it would change eventually but not this dramatically.

It perturbed me to know that Julio saw me as naive, unsuspecting, and helpless. I was not the big sister figure who could burst through the closet doors unafraid of the monsters that may have been hidden in there but the victim.

Nancy waited for my reply with a hand on her hip. Lately she'd been so hard to keep track of. She would go missing for hours on end and then materialize with an intensity that was scary.

"I'm going to do some work at the library." I pulled my coat on, feeling her gaze weighing me down.

"You already went out yesterday for a coffee run. Don't you think you should relax after having been through such an eventful last couple of days?"

"I'm fine." If I had a penny for everytime I uttered the phrase, I would have had a house of my own. "Julio was off getting drunk while your husband was shot and you didn't give him any problems about going back to school or work."

The sentence was uncalled for but I was mad. I couldn't stop myself.

Nancy rolled her eyes. She fed off my tone. Subconsciously or not, she took my attitude as a contest. "That's different. You have trauma revolving around guns. I think you should talk to someone just in case. I can set that up for you, if you want."

"And what about you? You've just been widowed and instead of grieving you're parading around announcing you want to go live all on your own!"

I bit my lip. The second I finished I wanted to take it back but Nancy was already teary eyed and fuming.

"Don't call me if you have a mental breakdown in public or start wetting the bed again!" With that Nancy stormed up the stairs, her stomps resounding in the house until she slammed her bedroom door. I remained frozen in front of the door with hands trembling at my sides.

I'll fix it later, I told myself. Nancy and I had bigger fights before and we'd make up everytime. This one wouldn't be different.

I'd give her time to cool off while I worked. When I came back I'd apologize.