Defender's Heartbeat 2

Chapter 29

Enzo

"Enzo," Papa's voice sent a chill through me as soon as I stepped into the house. An icy shiver ran down my spine, knowing I had broken one of his rules.

"Come here," he demanded angrily. I felt a lump forming in my throat. Slowly, I made my way to the library, the room I hated the most. It was filled with nothing but bad memories. Ever since I got shot, I'd avoided setting foot in that wretched place. As I entered, it felt like the echoes of the gunshot and the crack of a leather belt still haunted the air. The library even smelled terrible, though I wasn't sure if it was real or just in my head.

Papa held out his phone. I leaned in closer to see a photo—Mia and me, kissing and hugging in the park.

"What is this?" he asked sternly.

"Just for fun," I tried to shrug it off, but my voice faltered.

"For fun? Sneaking out of the house, risking everything just to meet a girl?" His words were cold, like ice pressing into my skin.

Another shiver ran down my spine. "I was just bored at home," I mumbled, hoping he'd drop it.

"Someone told me you've been seeing this girl for about a year now," he continued, his words hitting me hard, almost like a physical blow.

"Who told you?" I asked, my mind racing to figure out who had betrayed me, who had mentioned Mia to Papa.

"She's in your school, in your class. Her father is a teacher, and she has a sister too," he replied, making it clear that he already knew everything about Mia.

I stared at him, the exhaustion from his interrogation weighing me down. "What are you trying to say?" I finally asked, barely able to keep my voice steady.

"Just stop dating her right now. She's not suitable for our family," Papa demanded.

"What if I don't?" I challenged him, my frustration finally boiling over. His response was immediate—he slapped me hard, causing me to accidentally bite my lip.

He looked shocked by my defiance. "Are you going to beat the crap out of me, Papa? Or are you going to shoot me like last time?" I spat out, my anger taking over. His expression turned furious.

"You know what, Enzo? I've had this thought for so many years. Now I'm going to tell you this because you are the most despicable son in this family: I always wished it was you who died instead of her in that accident. You're bad luck, Enzo. We never expected you. We never wanted a fourth child. I never wanted another son. She wanted to go out shopping for you. If it weren't for you, she would've never left the house that day," he said, his eyes blazing with anger. His whole body shook with rage. I felt disgusted by him, by his words.

He was right, wasn't he? I didn't need Papa's (Gerardo's) love. Why had I spent so long seeking love and acceptance from him, knowing deep down he hated me? Why did I keep hoping he might accept me one day? What was I thinking? I left the library, staring at the floor. I didn't want to look around. I felt sick. I wanted to cry, but no tears came. I was in shock. He said he wished I had died instead of Mama.

I climbed the giant staircase to my room, the most isolated part of the house. Even now, I wanted Papa. I wanted to hug him, to have him comfort me. But as I entered my room, still looking down, I saw him standing there. I could only see his legs—his black shoes and light blue denim.

"Papa," I hugged him immediately, shutting my eyes. Papa wrapped his arms around me, and I began to sob, overwhelmed by the comfort I felt. I was relieved to have found him at the moment I needed him most. I waited for him to kiss my forehead or cheek, as he always did. Instead, he simply stroked my hair gently, not even asking why I was upset. That made me feel even sadder.