One night in Rafael's childhood.
It includes descriptions of violence perpetrated upon a young boy, but I decided to include this brief flashback before moving on with the rest of the story to highlight some of the trauma that Barba is trying to work through.
This will be the only flashback chapter and is told completely from Rafael's POV, but this night will obviously be brought up again in later chapters so we will learn more about what actually happened and what followed from both Barba and Lucia.
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[Sidebar] 24th February 1978 - The Bronx, New York City
It was about 2 am on a crisp February morning when Rafael woke and winced in pain. He lay quietly for several long minutes, tears welling in his eyes as he thought back to the evening before. It had taken him at least a couple of hours until he had finally managed to go to sleep. However, when his mami had sneaked in to see him less than an hour after the violent run-in with his father, he had used all of his highly developed acting skills to pretend he was already sleeping.
At eight-years-old, Rafael had already become tired of pretending that he was 'fine' and could not face dealing with the tears and self-recriminations of his well-meaning mother.
He sat up and looked around in the relative brightness of his small moonlit bedroom. Young Rafael had learned to rarely draw his curtains at night - lightbulbs attracted attention and he could usually get by without them if he was careful.
And Rafael was learning to always be careful.
He anxiously shifted and dropped his feet to the floor without a sound, he understood that most children did not need to worry about making a noise when they woke at night. There were children for whom a late-night trip for a glass of water held the possibility of becoming no more eventful than waking their parents and receiving an extra goodnight kiss.
Now Rafael winced as he stood and reflected on whether other children would also recognise the familiar pain of fractured ribs hidden under the dark pattern of bruises around his waist. He briefly considered getting back into bed and trying to ignore the scratching pain in his parched throat, but then licked his equally dry lips and closed his eyes for a moment to gather his courage.
Walking as lightly and soundlessly as possible he edged to his door and carefully turned the handle, millimetre by agonisingly tense millimetre. At this unknown late hour, he couldn't be sure whether his father would still be up.
Rafael pulled his door open slowly and winced when he heard a soft creek. He paused, his eyes closed and heart pounding in his chest as he waited and listen for any sound at either end of their short hallway.
Nothing.
He poked his head around the doorframe and looked both ways, the lights in the living area and his parent's bedroom were off so he started to breathe a little steadier as he stretched out a leg and placed one foot outside the comparative sanctuary of his own room.
Rafael slowly walked down the hallway, mindful to avoid every carefully mapped out squeaky floorboard that had already become tattooed onto his young mind. He reached the corner and lifted his hand to the wall to steady himself as he turned slowly, his unnatural stride and the pain from his broken ribs sending him slightly off balance and causing his heart rate to rise again.
After pausing for a second he nodded to himself and walked toward the kitchen, reaching up on his toes to get a glass before filling it with water and turning to head back to his room.
"I thought I told you to stay in that room!" His father barked as he appeared from nowhere and blocked Rafael's path.
"Papi, I was thirsty and…" The little boy started to explain, the fear in his heart familiarly leading to his emotions flattening out and his mind going blank.
The large man growled with frustration, "I say stay in your room unless you need a drink? Or I tell you to get out of my sight?!"
"You were asleep, I thought…" He bravely tried again.
"One day your smart mouth is gonna get you hurt!" He growled, apparently conveniently forgetting that just a few hours ago he had lifted his son clear off the floor and threw him into a nearby kitchen cabinet for daring to ask for another school book.
"I'm sorry, Papi," Rafael said quietly, looking at the floor and closing his eyes.
The man huffed with scorn as he lit a cigarette, "Sorry, Papi…sorry, Papi! All I seem to hear from you! If you ain't begging for money so you can get some crap for school you're whining and crying like a pathetic little girl! Dios Mio, I swear to God you ain't my kid!" He staggered past his son and grabbed a beer from the icebox before opening the bottle and downing half. "A waste of my time and money," he growled with disdain.
Rafael edged around the kitchen cautiously, his back to the cabinets as he walked sideways and slowly made his way toward the hallway.
"You don't need that!" The man hissed and lunged forward, knocking the glass out of the small boy's hand and then laughing at the shock on his sons face as it smashed on the ground, water and shards flying everywhere.
A large piece of glass cut into Rafael's foot and he cried out in pain.
"Shut up, you little fuck!" He growled and stepped forward with one stride before slapping the little boy across the head.
Rafael had ducked, receiving only half the power of the intended blow before turning and running toward his room. He shut the door firmly, leaning against it and breathing heavily as he waited to see if he would be followed. With each passing moment, his panic began to subside until finally he stepped back from the door and hobbled toward his bed.
A single tear slipped down his reddened face as he looked at his foot and winced. He paused, glancing out through his window at the bright full moon before dropping his head back onto his pillow. The adrenaline had made him even more thirsty. His eyes and throat burned.
However, after half an hour he dropped into a restless sleep which should have lasted until morning...
An hour later, Rafael woke to find that his eyes were still burning. He blinked and winced, then coughed before looking around wondering how long he had been asleep.
Something felt…wrong?
He glanced over and noticed a steady glow of light from under the door.
The lights weren't on before…his confused young brain tried to work through the facts…and if it were morning his room would be bright with sunlight.
Rafael heard the distant sound of sirens and tried to stand, his head spun and he sank back onto his bed.
"Mami?" He called out, for once sounding as young as his eight years.
Finally, he stood and stumbled toward the door, his ribs and injured foot protesting at the sudden movement as he arrived and opened it to find the hallway filled with flames and smoke.
"Mami!" He croaked out again as he stepped back and shielded his eyes from the heat. "Mami?" He gasped and tottered ahead, holding onto the warm doorframe with both hands as he looked toward his parent's room.
Rafael glanced to the left, he could see the fire escape from where he was standing, but he stumbled forward and turned right, walking on trembling legs toward the bedroom and stepping inside when he found the door to be open.
The bed was empty.
The room was empty and filled with a heavy double line of grey and white smoke. Rafael coughed and instinctively dropped to the floor, his eyes burning from a mixture of tears and smoke.
"Mami?" He called again weakly.
Finally the darkness and smoke seemed to close in on his tiny body as paralysing fear flooded through him.
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