Defender's Heartbeat 2

Chapter 8

Enzo

Papa was waiting outside the gate. I ran up to him and jumped onto his back, hanging onto his neck.

"Stop it, Enzo. Don't act like a toddler in the middle of town," he snapped, clearly annoyed. Sometimes I do stuff like this just to get under his skin—it's fun.

I laughed, and he gave me a playful kick to the butt.

"Ow!" I yelped, covering my backside.

"Get in, you brat," he said with a smirk.

I came home, and Juana wasn't there. She's 22 now, and I still don't get why she isn't married and out of the house yet.

Louis finally got married last year, and, honestly, his wedding was as dull as his life. I was the best man. I even had to give a speech as one of his brothers. I have no idea who wrote that garbage, but I felt embarrassed reading such stupid stuff in front of a crowd.

There's no way the speech was about Louis. He doesn't even have those qualities. But I had to memorize it. It wasn't like I had a choice—either face Papa's leather belt after the wedding or stand there reading that speech in front of a room full of people we see all the time, whether it's for weddings or funerals. My whole life has been about not having choices, so this time wasn't any different.

Louis and I never had a good relationship, but whoever wrote that speech made sure to include a bunch of nonsense to convince the guests we were the most loving brothers. I felt like cringing the whole time.

I glanced at Papa (Manuel) during the speech, and he was trying so hard to hold back his laughter. It wasn't just him either—his bodyguards were all stifling their amusement. Papa (Gerardo) had his face buried in his hands like someone had died. I knew what he was doing—laughing. The woman next to him, though, kept rubbing his back, thinking he was crying tears of joy because his son was getting married and my speech had moved him.

Of course, maybe he was happy Louis was finally leaving the house, but he definitely wasn't crying.

Pedro was staring down at his brand-new shoes, as if he were falling in love with them, biting his lip. Louis was struggling to maintain a fake smile that looked more like he was suffering from a toothache than anything else. That pig never genuinely smiled; his effort was wasted on nothing. Other guests were staring at me as if I had mistakenly given a school speech instead of a wedding toast.

When I finally finished, they clapped uncertainly. What a day. I had never felt that embarrassed before. I didn't even know who to thank for it. I wished I could express my gratitude to whoever wrote that speech with a slap.

I sneaked into Juana's room and then her bathroom. She had tons of shampoos from all over the world, each one expensive. I couldn't resist; I stole a few brand-new bottles. I had no idea where she got them. I grabbed three huge bottles and dashed back to my room, hiding them under my underwear drawer. There was no way she was going to touch my underwear.

Juana came home in the evening, calling out, "Enzoooooo!"
"Enzoooooooooo!" she screamed again.
"Give me back my shampoo bottles!" she yelled.
"What?" I feigned innocence.
"My shampoo bottles. I bought them from Paris," she insisted.
"I didn't take them. I'm not a thief. Do you think I would use your shampoo? I'm not a woman," I said defensively.

She grabbed me by my bare shoulders, pulling me closer. I had just taken a shower, and my hair was still wet. She leaned in, smelling my hair, and then pushed me away forcefully. My leg hit a stool, and I nearly fell, but I managed to catch my balance.
"What the hell?" I said angrily.
"Give me back my shampoo bottles, you wet raccoon! Oh, I'll tell Papa," she threatened.
Every month, Papa didn't forget to hit me at least once with his belt. I stared at her.
"If you don't want to get hit..."
"Oh, screw off. I'm used to it," I replied, watching her face change. I laughed as she rushed to my room, and I followed her.

She looked around my room, clearly uncomfortable. She had never been in my room before. The dark colors on the walls made it feel a bit gloomy. She rushed to the bathroom to check it out, then opened my wardrobe and searched everywhere. When she opened the last drawer, which was full of underwear, she didn't touch them, just as I had guessed.
"I know you took them," she said, pushing me hard onto my bed.

"Aw, stop it," I protested. Then she slapped me. She had never slapped me before. She had a ring on her finger, and it made a small cut on my jaw, causing it to bleed like a fountain. It wasn't even a huge cut, but she got scared.
"Enzo," she said, trying to grab my face. Although she often made Papa hit others, she never did such things with her own hands.
"Happy now?" I asked, glancing at my reflection in the mirror, shocked to see so much blood. I felt dizzy seeing all the red. Old memories flooded back. I wiped my face with a towel while she stared at me. Then, I grabbed my medicine kit. It always emptied quickly because I had to use it at least once a month, and Papa made sure to refill it with a worried expression.

"Do you want me to..." she asked.
"No, I know how to do that. I do it every time. And why are you worrying now? Aren't you so happy to shed my blood? You do it every time," I replied bitterly.
I applied the medicine like a pro on my face while she stared at me until I finished. Then, she left. Well, I guess I paid the price for stealing.

"Enzo, why is there so much blood? What happened?" Papa came to my room and saw the towel, his expression turning scared. I told him what happened, and he checked my face. There was dried blood on my jaw, and his worry for me was evident. He cared about my face a lot. Papa had a few scars on his face that somehow looked good on him, though he was mad at Juana. But he couldn't do anything about it.

It was funny that, since I was a child, I knew Papa couldn't go against Gerardo or anyone else in the family. He couldn't even stand up to me. I remembered crying my lungs out for him to pick me up when I got hurt or when Papa beat me. If Gerardo or someone else was around, he stood there like a stone, clenching his fists without being able to do anything. Sometimes Gerardo punished me in front of Papa just to hurt him. He hated that someone cared about me and that I was close to Papa. He wanted to make me lonely in this world, but it didn't work because of Papa. So he was mad about that. Tears welled up in my eyes at the thought, and I wiped them quickly before Papa could see. It was crazy that after so many years of mistreatment from my own father, I still hoped he would care about me one day.

"It's not a deep cut, but you're bleeding a lot," he said, touching my jaw gently with his rough fingers.
"She thinks I stole her shampoo," I replied.
"Why did you do that? If you wanted shampoo, you could have bought it," he said.
"So you think..."
"I can even guess where you hid them," he interrupted.
"Okay, how can I buy ladies' stuff? If Pedro finds out I bought ladies' shampoo, I'm screwed. So I had to take hers. I don't even have cash," I explained.
"So you actually stole them? That's bad, Enzo," he said.
"Wait, what? You're talking like you knew I stole them," I countered.
"It's just a guess. So you proved my guess right. Anyway, you disappointed me," he said, sounding angry, though his eyes were filled with affection.
"She has plenty," I defended.

"You better stop dating that girl," he said, looking seriously at me.
"I'm not scared of getting hit," I replied. He was worried that if Papa found out, he'd hit me.
"What if something else happened? Something more than a hit that could really hurt you," he said, looking away.
"He'll never find out," I said, but I could tell from his expression that he didn't believe me.
"I'll be careful," I reassured him.
He gave me a look that seemed to say, "Are you kidding me?"
He checked my face once more and kissed my forehead before leaving my room.