I'm about to play the game 'cause I'm runnin' out of time.
Drop your knees to the floor, hands to the sky,
Give a round of applause for the great Miss Y!-Miss Y Marina and the diamonds
1944, Spain
Three years into the war. Four years after the birth of Raphael.
The strange occurrences started when Raphael turned four. In the first year of their marriage Chiara had gotten pregnant and on December 10th, baby Raphael was born. Chiara insisted on naming him after the famous Italian painter. Raphael looked exactly like his father and at the age of four he was almost a perfect mirror image. Aside from the eyes he inherited from his mother, a set of gold eyes.
He was a trouble maker and insisted on being independent from his parents. Raphael was everything to Chiara, she couldn't imagine how she was able to live life before Raphael (even only being 19 she couldn't help but get attached to him). Life without him now was unimaginable. Raphael had also taken Antonio's heart, it was obvious Antonio had always wanted a son and Raphael became the apple of his eye.
"Mamá, I'm hungry!" He had said one afternoon, it was June of 1944 and the radio was on, Spanish news filled the kitchen. All the windows were open since today was a fairly nice day. Chiara was cleaning the kitchen, listening to the news. Antonio had managed to teach her basic Spanish and was now able to communicate with the town beyond their small home.
"Oh, you're hungry?" She straightened up from scrubbing the counter, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "And what do you want me to do about it, mister?" Her son whined, running over to her and hugging her leg through her skirt.
"Mamá, make me some food!"
"Excuse me?"
"Mamá, make me some food, please!" He corrected himself, hugging her leg tighter. She laughed, and ruffled his curly hair.
"There we go! Was that so hard, hermoso?"
Raphael shook her head. "No Mamá."
"Now, what do you want to eat?" She asked drying her hands on her skirt. Raphael fisted his mothers skirt with his hands, peering up at his mom in thought.
"Hmmm...I want some chocolate cake!"
"Hermoso, we don't have anymore, you ate the last slice the other night, and we can't get anymore." Her son pouted.
"But Mamá..."
"I'm sorry, but you can't have any."
"Fine...I want a sandwich, please!" Chiara smiled and kissed his forehead. "Alright, you can play outside while I make your sandwich, I'll call you when it's done." Raphael nodded eagerly before rushing out the door to play. She watched him out the window before busying herself with making her son food. She paused however, eyes flickering to the stairs. She scowled.
"Good afternoon sleeping beauty." She turned back to cooking. Antonio stomped down the stairs, shirt tousled, pants wrinkled, a morning stubble evident on his face; he clearly was having a hangover. And he knew his wife was pissed off.
Hell has no wrath like a women's fury.
"I hope you had fun drinking last night with those friends of yours." She started off cooly, grabbing a knife to chop up some lettuce for the sandwich she was preparing. "That was fun waking up to you at one am, you woke Raphael up, took me forever to put him back to bed." Antonio ignored her making his way to the medicine cabinet, shoving past his wife. She hated him when he drank too much, he was a different person when he got drunk.
"Are you even paying attention to me?"
Again she was ignored, she felt her patience thinning down to a nub. "Answer me, Antonio."
"Seriously, do you ever stop talking?" He snapped at her after downing a glass of water with a pain killer. "My head is pounding and your annoying voice is making it worse."
"Not my fault you drank your heart out," she snapped back, "it's your fault your head hurts and I'm making it worse just by talking."
He dropped the glass cup into the sink, the glass luckily not shattering.
"You're so annoying, just shut up for once."
"I'm not cleaning that cup. Wash it."
"All you do is nag, and nag, and nag..." Antonio groaned out, he did not want to wake up to his nagging wife. Fuck, his head was hurting like hell...
"I'm not cleaning that cup." She repeated harshly. "Wash it."
"It's your job to clean, you wash it." Antonio's jaw clenched.
"No."
"No?"
"That's all I fucking do around this house! I take care of your fucking kid, this fucking house and what do you do? You get fucking wasted and come home angry!" She stabbed the knife down onto the wooden cutting board, furious. Antonio knew from the start that Chiara was an exotic bird that could not be caged, but there was times where she needed to realize being caged was good for her. It was only to keep her safe from the feral cats the licked their lips at her as they flicked their tails, watching her murderously.
"Oh yeah? Well I'm the one that works, I'm the one that earns money that plays the bills so you can call your sister in Italy, and that ain't cheap!" He retorted angrily. "I'm the one saving lives and you? You live off my money! Taking care of this house and my kid is you repaying me for doing all this for you!"
"As if I wanted to be married to you! Your mother was the one who wanted our families to get married, it was either me or my sister, and you got stuck with me!"
"I wish I got married to your sister instead! At least she isn't as bitchy as you are!" The world seemed to still at that statement, even the hungover Antonio had saw what he had done, his eyes widened. When they got married Chiara had confessed to feeling inferior to her little sister. Always being compared to her had destroyed her self esteem. She was okay now but it still hurt, and Antonio had promised from that day on he would never compare her.
He took a step as she stormed up to the sink, grabbed the cup and threw it with all her might, causing the clear glass to shatter upon impact on the brightly painted wall. She was shaking with anger.
"There! Now no one has to wash the damn cup!" She angrily grabbed the sandwich she had prepared for their son and stormed to the front door.
"Raphael!" She slammed the door close, the frame shaking at the impact; leaving Antonio with the shattered glass. Antonio swore he heard a woman's voice speaking frantically; but figured it was his wife getting their son. He felt slightly guilty as he marched back up the stairs to sleep away his headache, all the windows were open. Raphael must've heard everything.
The strange occurrences started out small, so small that could be easily set aside of forgetfulness actions and the thought, 'oh maybe Raphael moved that'. Now, Chiara was not a believer of the supernatural so she always dismissed it with logic but after a while she couldn't explain it. Once, she was cleaning around the house and had closed the curtains when Antonio had crashed onto their bed after a long night of helping a woman giving birth to a new generation of Franco's España. Child birth was a tiring process for the doctor and mother, especially when the mother went into labor at one am in the morning. When she returned to their room to hang up their clothes their curtains were wide open.
Antonio had whined out sleepily: "Why did you open the curtains?"
"I...I didn't open the curtains." She replied setting the freshly dried clothes on her side of the bed. "I was getting our clothes...maybe it was Raphael who opened the curtains?" Antonio rolled over to face her sleepily.
"Raphael is taking a nap right now, cariño." She paused and folded one of his shirts, glancing at the opened curtains.
"I must've opened them without realizing it then." She mumbled out not looking at him. This had been the most they had spoken since their fight the other day, sure, they still slept in the same bed but they hadn't had sex since then.
"Cariño..." Antonio began.
"What, Antonio?" She asked, viciously folding one of his dress shirts. She was obviously still holding a grudge on him for the fight. It showed by how suddenly hostile she was to his clothing.
"Look...I'm sorry for what I said the other day." He started out gently, he was tired of the silent treatment she gave him. He loved her smile and laugh, they way she melted into his arms when he returned him and gave her those bear hugs that secretly delighted her (he could read past that scowl). She still ignored him.
"Cariño..." He reached out to touch her arm but she pulled back, as if his touch would burn her flesh.
"Don't you dare touch me."
"Cariño, please." He begged, "I'm trying to say sorry, I didn't mean it..."
"You know you did." She stuffed his shirts into the dresser, slamming it shut. Antonio drowsily sat up, patting the space beside him.
"Sit here."
"No, I don't want too."
"Chiara, please. I'm begging you."
"I don't see you on your knees."
"Chiara–."
"Fine!" She stomped to where he was as sat beside him.
"Happy?" He smiled sleepily at her and crawled behind her, hands moving to her shoulders, massaging them.
"Antonio–."
"Sh-h-h, cariño, just relax." He started working on some knots on shoulders, making her relax. When he saw this he tested the waters by pressing his lips against the back of her neck. Pleased when she didn't give a negative action he moved his hands down her back. She soon became putty in his hands. Being a housewife at such a young age pushed her sometimes.
After a while he moved his hands to the front of her body, first on her stomach before moving them to where her chest was. This made her give out a soft whine of approval, now if he could just...his fingers went to the buttons of her shirt–
"Did you see that?" Chiara asked suddenly, pushing his hands away. Her eyes were locked to the door.
"See what?"
"Raphael's door...it opened."
"¿Qué?"
"I think someone is in the house."
Fuck.
Antonio cautiously pulled his hands away from his wife, slipping off the bed, he got to his knees. He leaned down and reached underneath to grab the rifle he hid underneath, just in case. Chiara tensed at the sight, she never liked the rifle underneath the bed. She always had a bad feeling about it...
"Careful." She mumbled out shakily as Antonio loading the rifle, as silently as he could. Chiara watched from the bed as Antonio crept to their sons room, aiming the gun. His arm relaxed as he motioned for Chiara to come over, deeming it was safe. She quickly rushed over to her sons room, to see Raphael playing in his room, he glanced at his parents, eyes wide an innocent.
"Daddy, why do you have that gun?" He tilted his head to the side, he suddenly brightened. "Are we playing soliders?"
"Rapha, was there anyone in your room?" Antonio asked, eyes flickering to the open window. Rapha nodded.
"Sí! Marina was in my room!"
"Marina?"
La malinche?
"What does she look like, hermoso?" Chiara asked as she walked around his room, trying to find said Marina.
"Well, she's very tan, much darker than you and Daddy! Also she had brown eyes, long black hair and has a pretty white dress! But it's bloody on the front."
"What?" Antonio and Chiara snapped their attention to their son.
"She said she got hurt really badly, but she's okay now! She said she hasn't been able to go home to wash her dress, says she's too far away from home." He shrugged. "Daddy scared her so she left using the window. That's how she gets in here."
"Marina is an imaginary friend." Antonio decided, Raphael had fallen asleep at eight and left Chiara and Antonio to talk. They were at the dinner table, the rifle placed in the middle of the table. "I've checked the all the way to the well, there's no 'Marina' nor a Mexican woman with a bloody dress."
"An imaginary friend then?"
"Must be." He sighed out, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.
"You're tired, you didn't get that much sleep, didn't you." It wasn't even a question. It was a statement.
"Sí." He admitted out tiredly.
"Go to sleep." She said standing up. "I'll lock up."
"Gracias cariño." He stood up sleepily.
"Take your pills too." She added, he nodded.
He was too tired to notice he had taken two pills instead of one.
When Antonio woke up the next day, he hugged his wife tightly, telling her that he loved her so much. That dream seemed too real, it was so vivid. He gagged at the thought of it.
"Did you hear that?" Chiara asked on a sunny afternoon, Raphael was on the floor playing with his toys while Chiara cleaned.
"Hear what, Mamá?"
"That voice..." Her head was pounding, she had to grip the counter top to keep balance.
"Mamá?"
"Such a sad ending, only twenty three, she had so much ahead for her."
"Is he okay though?"
"In a coma, doctors don't know if he'll make it."
"He shot him up good."
"Who's there?" Chiara suddenly shouted, gripping the counters edge tightly, balance wavering.
The voices giggled and vanished.
"Mamá?" Raphael said, more panicked. "Maybe it's Marina, is it Marina?" Chiara felt sick, fatigued, and her head was pounding. She shook a little.
"It was Marina." She responded shakily, "she came to say hello."
That day Chiara found all the curtains were torn down from the windows and neither her nor Antonio knew where they went.