𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐈𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫

17.

Miguel's breathing was silent, and his ears were tentative. Snap. He is sure El Senior's henchmen were following him. Through the dense woods, he could hear a twig snapping and leaves rustling. He thought it was his paranoia. He is well aware that fear could indeed be the problem in itself. He wondered if his dad is so pathetic to send people to murder him. Exactly three days ago he purposely circled the area and found tracks that weren't his making. He contemplated on killing them several times while on his journey. But knowing his fucked-in the head father, all of this was probably a test. He was traveling on foot for days. His feet were sore. His exposed skin were covered in dirt, poison ivy and bug bites. Yet, Miguel was committed to meeting his father.

These past days he had a lot of time to plan. To think. To remember why he is doing what he's doing. And for whom. He couldn't deny he missed his familia. Especially his wife and daughter. But he wouldn't let his mind wonder too far into them. He was struck with great guilt for putting them in harms way. Sometimes he wished he had never called her that morning. Or invited her for dinner.

Miguel stepped out the dense woods into an clearing. He walked through the field until he spotted a graveyard. Hundreds of tomb stones as far as the eye could see. The cold early morning chill froze the tip of his nose. Nostalgia was hitting him hard, and this sudden feeling of sadness filled the pit of his stomach. He could still remember the day they put their mothers in the dirt.

His eyes trailed over the grave yard, soon landing on his mother's. He frantically searched the yard for his father. His men? A car? Anything! Anyone. Panic and confusion written all over his face. Why isn't he here?! Did he do this to just fuck with me?!

Miguel let go of the breath he was holding and calmed himself. No one was there. With his feet and heart he walked toward his mother's grave.
Elena Martinez. 1970-2015. Mother, Wife, Daughter, Sister.

As if his knees went out, he fell beside her grave. His heart and his soul was crying. He was gripping the grass tightly. Tears fell from his eyes. He never missed her, although she was nothing but good to him. In fact, she was mostly absent in his life. But the times they spent together were cherished. He missed her wisdom. And he needed it right now. He loved her wisdom. This was the only thing different from his brother's mothers. His mother actually gave him something.

He snatched his necklace off from around his neck. Admiring the crystal Jesus being crucified. Sacrificed. The same admiration he had on the day it was gifted to him.

Sometimes his mother would say, "Look deeper than what people want you to see. Know more than what people want you to know. But always say what they want to hear."

Her words repeated in his head. Pulling out details and hidden meanings. Her eyes always seemed to know more than she shared. That's probably why she was his dad's favorite wife. The eyes. The same eyes, Miguel inherited.

He ran his hands down his face, lifting his head towards the sky. Fluffy clouds scattered the blue canvas. The sun warmed his tired face. He stood still, allowing the sun to darken is tanned skin and his body to heat up. His breathing evened out, and his muscles relaxed.

Nothing but his intuition told him to look down at his hands. In his palm was the Jesus necklace. Another mother fucker would take this as a sign to trust in God.

...to trust.

He wasn't that mother fucker. His head was spinning and fatigue threatening him. Content he was viewing the world through his mother's wisdom. Trusting in himself. Because before anyone he had to be content with him. He scrambled through his memories of his father. Of who his father really was. And the compassion in his eyes. Just as he found it, suddenly drops of rain fell from the sky. Raining while the sun shinned through the trees. Miguel smiled. A single tear of realization ran down his face.

He didn't move when the grass ruffed behind him. And men walked up to him. Or when a gun clicked.

"I'm weak...I know this now," his voice broke.
"...But our father knew this too. Not the man that tried to murder Diego. Not the man that brainwashed our brother and turned him on us. Not the man that threatens his people. Starves and tear families apart. Not the man that shot my wife and poisoned my daughter..."

"Brother what are you saying?" Jesus spoke. Worry and confusion heard threw his plea.

"He made us see what he wanted us to see. We were puppets in a rigged game, mis hermanos. The "raid" that killed our mothers also killed our father too-"

"Miguel you sound crazy."

"Brothers we must look deeper than what people want you to see. Know more than what people want you to know. But always say what they want to hear.... my mother told me that two days before the accident. I'm starting to realize that was no accident at all."

"And how did you know this?" Hayden hands ran down his face.

"Because. I saw the man we called father for 6 years straight. After the raid and riots our so father's doppelgänger gained power. Then a few months later called us for training. He wanted to test out our loyalties and strengths. For years...we got used to his new change in leadership practices and he studied us."

"When he felt he was losing control he acted out and tried to kill me." Diego scuffed in disbelief.

"I-I...I mean if that's not our father. Who is he? And why does he look like dad?" Marcus paste back and forth with his anxiety rising.

"Dad has a twin. Or a doppelgänger. Years ago i saw him in dads office having a meeting. The deal went bad and he is most likely responsible for the accident...."

His brothers looked shocked. Frustration deep in their frowns.

"I know this is a lot to take in brothers. But I need you to trust me...because for the very first time in my life, I trust me. Fuck logic right now. If what I saw does not feel right in your hearts don't follow me. I don't know about you brothers, but I know in my heart that isn't my father! There's no once of love in his eyes and strength in his soul. I see nothing but a power hungry killer! If you're still not convinced at all by what I'm saying, I ask if you could remember an eye for an eye. If you still believe he is our father...he killed our family. And if you're still not convinced go home...because I'd hate to kill another one of my brothers." With that, Miguel turned walking away.

He walked between tomb stones and patches of grass. This is where all of his family are buried. This is where he will be buried. Honor filled his chest to walk in their presence. Honored that they heard his voice under six feet of soil. They know the dead has ears. They can still listen and comprehend.

"Miguel!" The brothers called out in unison.

He turned around.

"So, what's the plan?"