Defender's Heartbeat

Chapter 40

Pedro

When I walked back home, I ran into Papa. He had been out of town for a few days on business. He asked me to come to his office.

"What's that?" he asked, looking at the papers in my hand.

"It's from Enzo's school. I think they sent it to you too," I replied.

"Maybe," he said, seemingly indifferent.

"Why did you want to meet me?" I asked, sensing there was something else on his mind. Papa began discussing business matters, some of which we had already covered. It became clear to me that he wasn't really interested in business talk but had something else he wanted to address.

"What is it, Papa? Do you need something from me?" I inquired.

"I only want to talk about business," he replied.

"But we've already covered those topics," I pointed out.

"What do you think I want to know?" he asked. I knew he wanted to know about Enzo, although he didn't mention his name directly. If he didn't ask directly, I wouldn't bring Enzo to him. Perhaps he wanted an update on Enzo's therapy.

"I'm not sure. Anyway, let's discuss the next project," I suggested, steering the conversation away from Enzo. I saw Papa's face change. It looked like he was struggling to say what he wanted to say.

Sorry, Papa, you have to ask if you want answers, I thought. But he never asked.

After taking Enzo to the shrink, I noticed that the doctor looked like he needed another shrink to deal with his stress.

"Mr. Pedro, it seems like he doesn't want to heal. He doesn't talk about anything. He doesn't express his feelings. He needs to open up and let go of his burdens," the shrink said.

"Enzo, do you want to get better or not?" I asked my brother on the way home.

"I want to," he said.

"Then why the hell aren't you saying anything to that man?" I demanded. He remained silent.

"Look at me... Look at me... LOOK AT ME... ENZO," I insisted, but he stubbornly gazed out the window, ignoring me.

After returning home with Enzo, I insisted he go to his room so I could have a private conversation with Manuel. Spending twenty-four hours a day with Enzo, Manuel might have known something about him. I suspected the only place Enzo went alone without Manuel at home was the washroom.

"Does Enzo ever confide in you about his mental struggles? His fears or anything like that? I took him to the shrink, and the doctor said he never opens up," I asked Manuel.

"About his nightmares or PTSD?" Manuel inquired.

"About anything. I think his nightmares are part of his PTSD because of what happened last month," I explained.

"No, it started way before that," Manuel replied, looking at me intently.

"What do you mean?"

"He's had that since he was 6. After he got kidnapped," Manuel revealed, shocking me.

"Since he was 6?" I repeated in disbelief.

"Yes, since he was 6. After that incident, he would get scared in his sleep at night and scream," Manuel confirmed, and I felt my throat go dry.

"Are you saying that for the past 10 years, it has happened every single day?" I asked, feeling incredulous.

"Yes," he replied simply.