The Demon's Half

Chapter 45

I was four when mami and papi decided to leave Copan to come to Moonveil. Mami hated it here, but papi said we were safer here.

One day, daddy took me to the old lady's house. Yo no quería ir. I didn't like the way the house looked. Todo era muy feo y viejo.

The house was crooked and dark, like it was falling over, and the windows were dirty so I couldn't see inside when he knocked. The old lady opened the door, and I didn't like her either. She was wrinkly, like a raisin, and her skin was so pale it looked green, like she was sick. Her hair was gray and thin, and smelled weird.

Daddy kneeled down in front of me, his hands on my shoulders. His eyes were red, like he'd been crying, and his voice was shaky. "Morgan Lucía," he said, "you have to stay with this nice lady for a little while, okay? Es vieja, and she needs someone to take care of her. Tú eres valiente, ¿cierto? Could you do this for me?"

I didn't understand.

Why did I have to stay with her?

Why couldn't I go home with him?

I didn't like her. She looked scary.

But daddy's face was so sad, and he was crying. I didn't want him to be sad, so I nodded. "Okay, papi," I said, even though my stomach felt funny, like I was going to throw up.

He hugged me tight, so tight it hurt a little.
And when I stepped forward to follow him, the old lady's hand clamped around my wrist.
Her fingers were cold and bony, like sticks. "Come inside," she said, her voice was scratchy, like a crow. And just when the door closed, I heard the lock click.

The house was dark and smelled like dust and old things. There were no toys, no color on the walls, just a big carpet in the living room with weird patterns on it.
The old lady didn't talk much. She just stared at me with her black eyes and told me to sit still.

The first few days were the worst.

She didn't give me much food, just little bits of bread and water. I was so hungry my tummy hurt all the time, but when I cried, she yelled at me. "Stop your whining!" she'd scream, her voice so loud it made my ears hurt. "You're weak! You need to be strong!"

I didn't know what she meant.
No one ever taught me how to be strong.

Then, on the third day, she made me pull my shirt up. I didn't want to. But she yelled at me again, so I did it.

I stood on the carpet in the living room, shivering, while she got a knife from the kitchen.

"Lie down," she said, pointing to the carpet. I was too scared to say no. I lay down on my stomach, and she kneeled beside me. The knife was cold when it touched my back.

It hurt so bad I screamed, but she didn't stop. I moved and moved. She yelled at me to stop moving but I couldn't, it was so painful. She slapped my head to keep me still. And I kept moving until she had her full weight over me.
She carved into my skin, over and over. I could feel the blood running down my sides, warm and sticky. I cried, but she just pressed harder, her hands shaking as she worked.

"This is for your own good," she said, her voice was so angry it made me even more scared. "You have to be ready."

I didn't understand.
I just wanted my daddy and my mommy.
I wanted to go home.

When she was done, she wiped the blood off my back with a rag and put a bandage on it.

It still hurt, but she didn't care.

She just told me to get dressed and go to bed. I cried myself to sleep that night, and every night after that.

The old lady did the same thing every three days. She'd make me lie on the carpet, and carve into my back with the knife. It never stopped hurting. I never got used to it. But I stopped crying after a while.

I never knew why dad left me here. All I knew was that I hated her.
And I hated him for leaving me with her.

But I was brave.
Just like he said I had to be.