CHILDHOOD ❥ ON MY BLOCK [OSCAR DIAZ]

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Oscar felt as if he wasn't able to see anything other than the pure color of red. Sound became distant, muffled as if his head was being held under water. He has experienced anger in the past but nothing ever this serious. Oscar couldn't bring himself to speak, not knowing what he could even say to the news. He placed a hand over his lips, bringing it down his face as he sighed. Marisol stared back at him, with her dark brown eyes, waiting for a response.

All he could think about was someone hurting her, daring to put their hands on her. The Santo thought back to the night at the hotel. He honestly tried his best to not go back to that night out of fear. Not from the fear of what occurred but how he reacted and the lack of remorse for what he did. Oscar beat the man for hours, never growing tired of watching him struggle and hearing him cry. That part of him hadn't made an appearance since he had first gotten to prison, especially at a young age.

Oscar's vision faltered for a second, the girl in front of him merging into a blur. He began to feel his stomach emptying like a pit, his insides sinking into himself. Oscar abruptly pushed past the girl, causing her to stumble over as he opened the door. He dashed down the hallway and Marisol's screams for him to wait became inaudible.

When he finally got inside of his car, he had no hesitation starting the engine, not even bothering putting on his seatbelt as he backed out of the driveway.

Oscar slammed his fist on the door, causing the wood to shake with its hinges. A distant scream was heard from inside, telling him that someone was coming. The young girl swung open the door, her usual annoyed expression on.

She stuck her head outside, "Why the fuck are you banging on my door like you're the police?"

The Santo immediately noticed the drastic change in her appearance. Her face was bare and makeup free, making her skin look more youthful. Oversized clothes hung low on her body, different from the tight clothes she usually wore. Slippers kept her feet warm instead of the expensive shoes she normally chose.

Oscar looked up from the sweatpants she was wearing, "Where does that pinche Prophet live?"

Athena's eyebrows came together on her forehead, displaying her confusion, "Who?"

"You know who."

The girl noticed the tone of his voice and the look in his eye. His chest was heaving up and down as he breathed, his face a subtle shade of red. Athena glanced down to the palms of his hands. They were balled into fists, so tight that they were shaking. 

The young girl let out a deep breath, leaning her shoulder against the door frame.

She crossed her arms over her chest, her neck sticking out, "Why?"

"You know why," Oscar sneered, having the same sense of anger towards her as well. She was Marisol's cousin, her blood, they were meant to look out for each other. Athena's features loosened as her face fell, her shoulders relaxing when her arms dropped.