CHAPTER 23
Miguel turned on his heel and was ready to sprint away as fast as he could away from the scene, but a loud groan from beside him caused him to stop. He turned and looked down at his dad, who was slowly regaining consciousness. Miguel gulped in fear, his mind beginning to spin. He knew that this fight with his father was far from over. He knew that if he turned around and ran now, as soon as his father was conscious again, he would not rest until he had hunted down Miguel again, and then who was to say what would happen to not just Miguel, but the people he loved too. He thought about Manuel, then he thought about Sam, and a tremor of fear rippled down his spine. He could NOT at any cost allow those two people to come into contact with each other. Same with his mom. Same with his yaya. Same with Johnny. He needed a way to end the cycle here, and as his eyes fluttered sideways, they rested on a way.
Before he knew it, Miguel felt his right hand curl around a steak knife that had previously been lying on the table. He felt the ice-cold steel rest on his palm and as he slowly turned it towards his father, his hands began to tremble so violently he nearly dropped the blade. It would be so easy. Just a slash and Manuel would never come after him or anyone he loved ever again. Miguel felt his fingers squeeze the handle tighter and tighter and he leaned down to his father's level. His heart pounded like a bass drum, so loudly that he could practically hear it in his ears. He was having trouble breathing as he thought about what he was going to do. Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably as Miguel looked right in the man's unconscious, glassy eyes. He was thoroughly defenseless to what Miguel was about to do, not even aware about what was going on. Seconds turned to minutes before Miguel, who had the blade pressed up against the man's neck, came to his better senses and dropped the knife. He threw it aside and turned around, retching and throwing up at the mere thought about what he was about to do. He could actually see a thin red mark against his father's neck where Miguel had pressed the knife into. He couldn't believe he had actually almost done that! He had been in Juarez WAY too long, he needed to get the hell out of here!
So Miguel ran. He ran as fast as his worn, tired legs would take him. He managed to make it up to his room to grab his backpack, and then down to the garage in record pace, refusing to stop for even a moment to catch his breath. He knew that he barely had any time before his father regained consciousness so he needed to take every chance to get as far away from him as possible. When Miguel made it to the garage, he wasted no time getting into one of his father's cars. Driving was another thing his father had taught him while he was in Juarez, and Miguel counted his blessing that that was the case, as in a few moments, he found himself flying down the driveway and onto the main road. For a moment, Miguel was at a crossroads. What now? He knew that for as long as he was in Juarez, he was in grave danger, as in a mere few moments, his father could have tens of people on the street looking for him. He needed to get back to the States as soon as possible, and that meant that his best course of action would be driving straight up to the Juarez/El Paso border, and then from Texas, take a bus back to L.A. And Miguel did exactly that. Exhaustion went right out the window as he lead-footed it as fast as he could towards the border. He stopped a couple of blocks short though, and he got out of the car. He didn't want to be trying to cross into the States with an unregistered, quite possibly stolen vehicle, so Miguel decided to walk the last bit of the way. Sure it garnered a lot of suspicious stares at the border, and Miguel was definitely stopped for longer than normal. Walking, combined with the fact that Miguel looked like a bruised, beaten, dishevelled mess… his border control agent most definitely thought he was some illegal immigrant, but eventually, Miguel found himself back in U.S soil. In Texas, and 13 hours away from L.A, but home all the same.
At that moment, Miguel could feel relief coursing through him, but he couldn't afford to completely relax yet. He was still a long way from home, and it was only when he was successfully on a bus back to L.A that he could finally sit back a little and reflect on the bombshell that had just happened. He had nearly been killed! By his own fucking father! All this talk he had said about wanting to find answers… well, he had found them. They just happened to be the exact same ones his mom had predicted that he would find.
A tear rolled down Miguel's cheek as he glanced out the window at the endless street they seemed to be driving along by the New Mexico border. His whole life, he had created this image of what kind of a person his dad was. Sure his mom told him one thing, and the internet only backed it up, but a small part of Miguel always believed that it was different. That the man was a good man who had just made a few mistakes. If he had learned anything during the whole karate war it was that even those with the noblest of intentions made mistakes along the way. He had prayed that this was the case, and when he first met his father, seeing the way his dad had taken him in, he had been given a hell of a lot of false hope. He thought this was a man who had his back. A man who truly had his best interests at heart. He was dead wrong. The man was just using him while he had value, and would toss him aside like day-old garbage the second he lost that value. When he was younger, that unknowing about what his father was like had allowed him to be optimistic, allowed him to draw himself an image and live by it. But now, he knew. He would have to go to bed every night for the rest of his life not thinking what if and being optimistic that his dad was good, but instead knowing that his father was a ruthless son of a bitch who in the blink of an eye, would be willing to murder his own son.
It took Miguel many hours to truly accept this fact, truly wrap his mind around it. Sleep was a relief, but it was a far from restful one. Every couple of minutes, either a nightmare about his father or a rough jolt from the bumpy bus would jerk him away, so Miguel couldn't get more than 10 minutes of rest. It was absolutely horrible, but at the same time, Miguel eventually welcomed it as it gave him a chance to be left with his thoughts. What was next in line for him? He would go home then what? Go back to karate? No, he had no interest in anything to do with Karate right now, especially if like Johnny had mentioned, Robby was in Eagle-Fang. No way in hell would he agree to train alongside that asshole, let alone his toxic ex-girlfriend too. So that left Miyagi-Do as his other option. Ha! Fat chance Mr. Larusso lets him in after he finds out what a jerk Miguel had been to his daughter a few weeks ago! He was between a rock and a hard place and he wanted neither of them, so that left him with the crystal clear decision… he was done with Karate.
Miguel was so deep in his thoughts that he hardly noticed when the bus finally ground to a halt on the border of Los Angeles. When it did and Miguel was thrown forward in his seat due to the sudden halt, Miguel looked out the window and for the first time in 3 weeks, he finally saw familiar surroundings! He was home! Despite EVERYTHING that had happened in the past 24 hours, the ghost of a smile graced his lips as he looked around and finally saw the city he loved. He was safe, away from the clutches of that immoral man, at least temporarily. He could go back to his old home. His old bed. His old life. But while a part of him was looking forward to being home, most of him dreaded it. Dreaded what was to come…
As he stepped off the bus station and breathed in the L.A air once again, the relief he felt just being back home almost tempted him to walk all the way back to the Valley. Sure it would be unsafe, sure it would be a heck of a long walk, but he was home and he wanted to savor it. However, his greater judgement prevailed, and he eventually got into a cab, asking him to go to his compound in Reseda. The cab driver set off and Miguel sat back in his seat, zoning out for a while. His mind had been spinning so rapidly for so long that now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was absolutely exhausted. He barely noticed as the driver weaved through the streets of Los Angeles. Miguel only looked out the window after about 15 minutes, and when he realised where he was, his jaw dropped.
"Hey, um… could you stop the cab here for a moment?" Miguel asked him quickly. The driver slowed down slightly and turned to him.
"Huh? We're not at your destination yet." He said. Miguel nodded.
"I know, I know. But I need to do something here. Would you please be able to wait for me for a few minutes? I'll pay you extra!"
The driver eventually nodded and pulled over to the side of the street, allowing Miguel to get out of the car. As he looked around at the VERY familiar streets, he couldn't help but chuckle in disbelief and shake his head. What were the odds of the driver taking him here of all places? Miguel soon found himself walking up a very familiar driveway, and he stopped on a very familiar doormat. He looked down and read it…
Welcome to the Larusso Residence