The Dead Among Us

Had enough

 Pedro's POV

I'm exhausted beyond words. I'm not as young and agile as I used to be, and I'm reminded of this every time I get up.

Last night, getting the power back on in the middle of the storm took everything in me. Finding out it did no good, and all my hard work was in vain crushed my spirit.

Today was spent fixing all the storm damage, and I'm covered head to toe in mud and soldering dust.

I just want to take a hot shower and go to bed I probably won't even eat dinner.

I park my motorcycle, so glad to be home so I can rest. However, fate had other plans. The second I cut off the engine, all I hear is screaming inside the house.

I dismount slowly, mentally preparing for whatever the hell's going on.

I open the door and am met with pure and utter mayhem.

Benji is screaming at the top of her lungs, running from Jason, who's wielding his belt in the air like a medieval whip. He knows that's not how we use discipline. I've told him before not to treat the kids like that.

Kenji is frantically sweeping up glass that I'm now coming to realize is scattered throughout the living room.

Not only are there shards of glass, but the living room is a disaster. I quickly see why; Benji is hopping on the couches, knocking over the throw pillows to avoid Jason. She's breaking my biggest pet peeve rule: I can not stand shoes in the house, let alone on the couch. But there's also blood splattered about.

When I look at Miss Fabia, she's like a statue, just standing there. Her eyes are bulging out of her sockets, unsure of what to do. And then I see Manny behind her over the kitchen sink spitting out blood.

 I scream as loud as I can, "Enough!"

The room falls into a sudden stillness as every gaze fixes on me. The sound of my own voice, as I shout, resonates deeply within me, causing my hand to clutch at my chest involuntarily. Despite feeling utterly drained, I'm aware of my responsibility as their father. Dispensing discipline to my children and order in my home is a weighty responsibility, one that I must fulfill even when I'm tired.

I catch my breath, looking to Manny, "¿Que esta pasando?" I ask, nearly wheezing but keeping it under lock so as not to worry anyone.

They all understood me, even Jason. When I met Jon, Jason was an older boy, so teaching him Spanish was hard, but he did pick up a few things.

Since they all understood me, they all fucking answered; in unison.

The room erupts in explanations, and the main thing I'm picking up in the disorder being bombarded at me at once is Benji, Benji, Benji, Benji. Why do I not doubt that?

"I said Manny!" I shout again. My furious gaze pounces on everyone before finally landing on Manny.

He spits out a glob of blood again and just points at Benji. Her jaw drops open in shock at his accusation.

She gets ready to argue, screaming, "Kenji was—"

"Benji, not another word," I warn, taking in a deep breath. Apparently, I need to be more specific.

"One, why is there glass on the floor?" I ask slowly. I can actually feel my blood pressure rising at this point, and it's unpleasant.

"Benji knocked Jason into the side table and knocked over Mami's lamp," Manny explains; his voice sounds like his mouth is full, and sure enough, he rushes back to the sink to spit out blood again. Furthermore, he just revealed the source of the glass.