Her hair is a lustrous blond. Her eyes are flashing blue-violet. She is sweet and childlike.
They call her Angelina. Though it doesn't feel right. How can she tell them that underneath her innocent personality, she feels something more?
Something...
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Demons.
He was plagued by them. No matter how much tequila he consumed, he couldn't block the memory of his baby sister crying. Her pain. Her lifeless eyes stared back at him.
When will it end?
Monette.
She would have been a teenager now. Fuck! Some big brother he was. He was good for nothing. He couldn't even save her.
In the darkness of his bedroom, heavy drapes blocking the outside world, he gulped the remaining contents of the heavy liquor.
Though he was feeling the buzz of the alcohol, his mind was on full alert. Too active. Too much. Too many painful memories swirling inside his head.
He could do some paperwork to pass the time. But...
Rafael squinted his eyes, trying to read the time. Puta!
Tomorrow, he will be supervising the training of his men. In a few weeks, he will choose his new second.
Rafael's stomach grumbled. A reminder he hadn't had sustenance, except the booze, since arriving.
Grimacing, he rubbed his eyes. If he remembered correctly, Tia would always leave something for him in the kitchen for his midnight snack. He would usually sneak at night despite his mother's strict warning of no sweets and extra carbo before bedtime.
His heart gave a tiny squeeze from the memory. He shouldn't be reminiscing about the past. The hard booze had dulled his thoughts, making him fucking vulnerable.
Just for tonight. He planned to eat his fill. Be drunk. Be vulnerable in his own home. No one would notice, especially at dawn. He was all alone.
Rafael's pace was sluggish as he navigated the darkened hallways of his hacienda. He knew every nook and cranny like the back of his hand, he could even do this blindfolded.
Hearing his stomach grumble, his lips twisted and he grunted in annoyance.
At his age, he should have acquired a wife as expected of him. His to love and care for. His to protect. One his mother would have approved.
No! Never! All of those dreams belonged to the past. He was not worthy of a wife, let alone a family.
The sober mood Rafael had been sporting since he arrived had only grown darker. With the intent to grab a quick bite and retire for the night, his long, slightly clumsy strides brought him to the warm kitchen he grew up in.
Another bitter recollection made him growl. Adjusting his eyes from the gloomy darkness, his steps faltered.
Pausing, assessing. He couldn't be this drunk. Surely, an angel of God had not come down to escort him to the gates of hell.
