Caged: Retribution

Chapter 4

"Don't be afraid, mí amor… don't ever be afraid of who you are. I love you. I love you… I love you…"

"And who on god's green earth do you think I am, Delgado?" El Diablo Blanco asked the fates, the gods, the blackened watery skies, as he sat on the old dresser, barefoot, jeans only. Unbuttoned but for a couple still clutching the denim.

Who. Am. I.

His knees were up, and he leaned back against the window frame, the window wide open. One foot turned on top of the other, creating heat. The last-of-night's rain was steady but light, and cold as hell. Could have pulled Rico's purple hoodie on but Abram was stretched out on the floor on top of it and Todd didn't want to disrupt that damn dog's snoring happy sleep. Could have grabbed something from his own pile of shit in the room but the chill made everything inside of him run low like a cold motor. And he needed that despite being post-heroin-bliss, post...post… fuck.

He puffed on a cigarette, strong Cuban shit, watching the smoke drift up, watched ash fall out the window when he flicked it. He studied the water, trying to see the individual drops. Followed some, fast, fast. Water beaded on his arm and he rubbed the wet into his skin sometimes. Daybreak was coming, the approaching sun lightening the cloud-covered sky. He glanced at the bed...peered through stringy grey-brown locks. That queen bed. A bed for a Queen.

La Reina Puertorriqueña.

Téa Delgado, with the bun in the oven, lay on her side under the blanket in her blue-almost-black knit dress, facing away from Rico who over the past hour had slowly inched to her, seeking her warmth. Now he was flush up against her. The three had fallen asleep to the gentle noise, the thunder and lightning dissipating across the ocean, all wrapped up in each other… like a pack of wolves. But then… awareness came over Todd, the drug having fully drifted away, and he crawled over Rico and got the hell out of bed. Got on the dresser. Breathed in the air before choosing tobacco.

He shivered with cold, closed his eyes a moment. He'd say he had a strange dream. A dream that he'd let Rico suck him off and while that happened, Téa was tight on top of him, wiggling on him, rotating and rocking her hips, delicious noise coming from her, the kind that made him want to own her… but he didn't dare reach for that… settling for pushing fingers into her, forcing his mouth onto hers, their tongues intertwined in a deeply familiar connection. He'd say he dreamt Rico reached for her to touch him until he was coming, that Rico was then on top of Todd and moving hard in an unabashed hurtful chase. Her scent remained on Todd's fingers... but so did his own scent and taste in his mouth… and Rico's on his chest. He'd say it was all a fucking drug dream but... that would be a lie.

Tell me not to be afraid.

He slid down, scratching skin against the weathered wood of the frame, hunching shoulders, dropping the cigarette butt out the window. He rubbed his bearded face with both hands, leaving them there, covering... covering. Hiding in the black. The edges of familiar panic rolled through him like distant rumbling thunder. He breathed slightly faster than normal. Thought maybe he'd follow that released cigarette. Take a dive, make sure to bash his head smack flat on the concrete.

I love you. I fucking love you.

He mashed his hands now on his mouth, stopping a sudden sob, erupting up through him, hot and burning and bringing the most powerful ache for home and his children and what he used to have with his beautiful strong Delgado, their life… the one where she lived under a rock and had no idea who he really was... a feeling he hadn't experienced since Statesville.

He breathed to lessen the acuteness and sure enough, the sharp sensations faded, the desire to cry until there was nothing left ending. Heard his doctor's voice telling him to count to ten and that it was all gonna be okay, yeah? Not that he believed that in any fucking way. He sniffed, wiped hard at his eyes. Reached for the cigarette pack and lit up again, shivering again at the cold. The flame threatened to blow out but his hand stopped the air and there she went. Lit that bitch.

How you like me now, mamita?

The sun finally landed, brightening the entire sky, the room a dull grey. Turned and watched Téa a while, her peaceful breathing. Curled tight as she could around that baby in her belly. Hair all over her face. Rico too, curled up against her.

Lemme see you come…

A choked noise rolled out of his throat that he hadn't intended to do. He then looked at the lit end of the Popular cigarette, the company's slogan, Soy Cubano. Harsh if you weren't used to them. Watched that thing a long time and knew what he could do to counter reactions he couldn't control, feelings he didn't appreciate intruding onto his thinking. Onto his body. Shit had been too easy… He glanced down at his undone buttons… ancient habits squeaking in his ear…

...just do it… just do it… press the cigarette on delicate skin…derail the thoughts… short circuit your brain… stop the feelings… the gut reaction to someone touching you even if you don't want them to…

He didn't hear Téa get out of bed… but felt her hand on his and he jerked a little. Didn't need a cigarette. Her fingertips derailed the shit out of him.

"Don't," she said. "Please."

His heart had sped up, shocked at hearing her voice… seeing her in the cold light. Light anxious eyes on hers. "Don't what?"

"Whatever you want to do with that cigarette that isn't a smoke."

Her face was gorgeous in the morning's grey light, vanilla skin and earthy browns and soft curled hair he wanted to kiss and touch and feel against his face. He resisted the desire to press his lips on hers again. He could taste her… and that sound again snuck out of his throat and his cock stirred so he bit down on his teeth, his jaw flexing. Fingers on the cigarette twitching.

Set it to soft silk… feel that… feel it… kill the instinct… stop the pictures.

"I wasn't gonna do anything," he said quietly, sticking the thing in his mouth. He puffed lazily a couple of times, then let it hang to the side as he gazed at her lips, but then he grimaced and took it out. Tossed it. "I stopped doing that."

"How are you?"

"Fuckin' peachy." Stared hard at her, at how she stood in the light, toes turning in because the floor was cold, at how she held her skirt in her hands because she didn't know what to do with those hands. Like a young girl. He hawked, scratched his head like he wanted to draw blood, then snapped, "Same as every other goddamn day." Turned to the rain again, his eyes closing every so often, a tired shutting-out of Havana. Stretched his leg out on the dresser, then dropped his foot so it hung down. He scratched the crook of his elbow, massaged his forearm. Hunched against the window frame. He chuckled sadly… then didn't. Kept rubbing his arm. Reached for another cigarette but didn't light it.

"I'm all out of dope," he said.

"Do you need it? Do you want it?"

"What do you think?"

"I bet you do. And bet you don't. I hope you won't."

"Easy to say."

Téa had been on and off awake for some time, eyes on her husband. She saw how still he sat, staring into the darkness, into the rain. She wondered if that was Statesville training… his ability to just think without moving, to live without breathing. The night had been intense, unexpected. She didn't think about it other than from a very tangible perspective, couldn't. The tension of their bodies, the distinct scents and tastes, the surface sexual sensations. The desperation to just come. The excitement of it, the wrongness, the rightness… it was too much to take in emotionally or intellectually. Too much to sort through. Not here. No, she had to take what happened, put it in her pockets, and spill it on a spread-out white sheet to look at everything. Untangle it all.

"Sounds about right," he murmured. Glanced at her. "I'm hooked… god fucking damnit."

"Raquel used it as medication… maybe you should call Tim?"

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Shook his head slightly. Stuck the unlit cig behind his ear, moving hair to accommodate.

"Why not?"

"Because… I have things to do."

And that's that. She crossed her arms and shivered. Studied Rico in his peaceful sleep. Naked under the covers. She worried about him. Todd had given him permission to just be and he grabbed it. Shook it like a dog shakes a rat. And the two had looked at each other as it happened… and there was something there… something she could not decipher… didn't know if she even had the knowledge to do it… she was locked out...

Lemme see you come.

"God," she huffed… an escaped word, lined with the tangled emotions she refused to face. An impossible tangle. She pressed her fingers to her lips to shut herself up. A hand on his arm to keep to her feet. Quickly eyed Todd and he was watching her again. He looked profoundly sad…

"You're worried," she said. "What happened-"

"Shut up," he snapped. Not wavering from his watching of her.

"Shouldn't we...talk about it? At least-"

"Not gonna." Warning edged his words.

Who. Are. You.

She paused a while, caressing those old scars on his arm, a natural thing, not even thought to it. familiar thing. Focusing on his passive face. Shielded eyes. Still as clay. Water behind him. Words slipped out anyway. "I don't think I've ever seen you that way…, letting go, letting something just happen... living in a moment so freely. I think maybe I love you more in some ways… than before..." She shook her head fast, her hand waving back and forth, anticipating his shutting her down, "I'm not talking about love in a marriage way, in a relationship way, in a way saying we're past all the…" She hunted for a word, landing on, "hurdles and hurts we have to get past or… move on from… or free each other from… I am talking just as ME, I am talking love as one human being to another, to someone deeply human...purely human..." She looked at him, her features screwed up in question, asking if he understood? There was more to it, things she couldn't identify yet. Her fingers lay unmoving on his hand.

Suddenly he snorted, distance fast in his eyes, "You are... funny. Hilarious. We had a goddamn three-way. I got a blow-job and… and… I finger-fucked you and… Rico.. .well he got you to jack him..." Distance dropped away like melted snow. He was suddenly trembling and Téa could see it because the strands of hair were moving… and she swallowed hard because he said he didn't want to talk about it and she didn't want to think about it yet here she was trying to bring sanity to the madness… trying to assure him… trying… trying… trying...

"Todd-"

"What are we doing, Delgado? Huh? What do you want from me? I got nothin'. All of you are here… after me… and I have nothing for any of you. I keep asking why you're here… and maybe I'm asking again. Why the FUCK are you here? There's nothing to save… and don't look at me with that pity I see, with that guilt..."

She found herself mute. He might as well have slapped her. She pressed her lips tight together, fighting tears. She sniffed them back. Put her chin up. Her mouth turned down with soul-deep sadness. Whispered, "I don't want you to die. I want you to see this baby born. I want you to see your children. And last night-"

"And here we go... the crux of the shit we're in. You..." The anger was up again. He breathed through his nose, nostrils flaring, jaw flexing. "You shot me." He grabbed her hard by the arm, "LOOK… look what you did." And she did… her eyes dropping to the two bullet scars. He let go of her, let go of her rough. "You had no intentions of ever letting me see my children or you again so cut the shit about not wanting me to die. You just don't want to be responsible for my death. You want things all creamy and soft and kumbaya so people will say… poor fuckin' woman."

Now the tears came. Through them, her voice thin and broken, she said, "How can you say that? Am I that low? That egotistical? Maybe I made a mistake that night. Maybe I lost judgment for a few horrible seconds. Is there no room for that?"

"Not for you. My Delgado is... and always has been... fucking... perfect."

"I'm not perfect. I did make a mistake, Todd. A single, awful… most regrettable mistake."

"To me… you have always been perfect. To say you made a mistake… means maybe I was a mistake. Maybe WE were a mistake. Our children... mistakes. You… you…" He slid his legs off the dresser, feet on the floor, ass on the wood, and he held her by her arms, fingers digging into her, eyes boring into her. He shook her and rasped, "I don't know what to do with you. I want to hurt you, I want to love you…" He rested his forehead on hers, whispered, "I want to tear your clothes off and fuck the shit out of you… I want to die in front of you, get buried inside of you… end this nightmare… end everything..." Lips parted to talk and now… now… his eyes watered with confusion and desire and hate… all mixed into one salted brew… "What am I supposed to do?"

"Forgive me the way I have forgiven you."

He held her gaze, her eyes misty and pink lips opening to ask him, plead with him, desperate for mercy. Forgive me, forgive me…

And him, bathed in excruciating indecision. The two were frozen in the icy air, the rain tapping ground beneath. Seconds ticking away. He let go of her, flying past her and summoning Abram, and she was suddenly alone at the window. He left the room, the door slamming shut, making her jump. She jumped again at a second door slamming down the hall or across the hall or somewhere beyond this...room. It was like last night hadn't happened, like he hadn't told her he loved her, like he hadn't said he understood why she'd done it.

Sixty to zero in seconds flat. Bodies crushed in the windshield.

Rico jerked up in bed, panting, looking around, his hair a mess. He mumbled in Spanish, "What happened? Is someone shot? What happened?" He eyed her, all that troubled darkness in his eyes, there again. She moved quickly to him, putting her hand on his shoulder and seeing how young he looked and how worried...

"Nothing happened, precioso… go back to sleep. Rest." Knowing he'd be concerned, she added, "He is upset with me. Nothing is changed."

"Coño," he huffed and collapsed back on the bed, dragging the covers up around his shoulders. His breathing coming back down. She slid into the bed, sitting up, knees up, legs under the covers, near Rico's warm body. He glanced at her then didn't. "Raquel didn't leave heroin here," he asked, "did she?"

"No. Doesn't mean he doesn't have something stashed away though. That's his way."

He rolled over onto his side, facing Téa, eyes up at her. "Do you feel strange? Are you okay?"

"I am fine. I am worried about you, though."

"I have done a lot of shit. Last night was… puppies and kittens. Nothing."

"Nothing?"

He was quiet then added, "I will survive when he goes home with you." The Adam's apple moved, a hard swallow. Those eyes… damn it, haunted again.

She touched his face, fingers on his cheek and a thumb caressing his chin, "Oh Rico… I don't know that he will come home with me. We have much to do… there are significant obstacles to overcome..." He nodded, his face saying of course, of course… but beneath it… a current of unspoken, unexpressed emotion. A wild river underground. She said, "I have a baby to deliver in a few months. I need to get her to a safe place. I might have to… leave him here." Her eyes welled with tears, his words ringing in her head. "He's upset. And it's me… in addition to Caro and everything, but… I am causing terrible upset. I have become… the worst to him. Last night… I am not sure what it was. Where he was. I think… I think… he might have been punishing me. Showing me… that he doesn't need me. That he has you. And I am fine with that. You are good to him, good for him."

Tears rolled down her face, hot and insistent. Rico rolled over, away from her. Silent. Except...he quietly corrected her. "He said he loved you. I heard that. What is that if not forgiveness?"

Téa sniffled, feeling like a bad child finally caught. She slid under the covers, lying down on her side. She lightly touched Rico's back and he stiffened. "People say and do things in bed they don't always mean," she said in a quiet voice. They lay for a long time, the rain a gentle accompaniment. She then asked hesitantly. "Why did you have me touch you last night?"

After a few beats of rainy silence, he shrugged, said in Spanish, "Maybe I wanted to see if you would. Maybe I wanted to see how Blanco would react. Maybe sometimes I like the feel of a woman. The touch is... very different."

"Is it?" The tears kept coming though and she tried so hard to control them. She felt weak, wrecked. She did not expect this level of emotion. She thought she was more worldly, sophisticated, she thought she'd gained some kind of objectivity... she breathed and worked and finally reigned it in. When he didn't answer, she asked, "Please tell me how it's different."

He sighed and said. "You hold me as if I might break at first. You stroke me with curiosity, searching for the right touch. You don't know how the touches feel so you shift until I respond then you stay with that. You pull back… because you want me to wait… then having learned the right touch, you go back… your grip is gentle…your hand is like velvet..."

"And Todd's hold of you?"

He turned a little, eying her behind him, weighing whether he should answer it seemed… his eyes were warm, roving her features, a kind of anguish there. Téa knew now… Todd touches him.

"It is sure," he said. "There is a confidence in where it's all going. He watches me with another kind of curiosity. He knows I won't break and knows the places to touch. It is thoughtless and knowing and-"

"Inconsiderate."

"Yes. He does not think of what he's doing to me."

She let his words flow over her. She ran a hand through his hair, and he turned back away from her. He had said a lot. Nothing new. Her husband was wrecking him through and through. Of course he was.

"I am returning to my hotel," she said.. "Um… thank you for being you… for your patience with me. For entertaining me yesterday, for sharing your secrets with me. I feel special. You are a beautiful person, an artist… one who has something to say. And you say it so well."

She got out from under the covers and stepped over to the dresser where her clothes sat at the edge, where they'd been pushed by Todd so he could sit there. She delicately pulled off her dress, standing naked in the cold.

She watched out the window, feeling the chill on her skin. Todd was right that she should head home to the States. She needed to feel her babies, kiss their faces, see them. Time to leave him to his journey, whatever the destination. She ran through her checklist of required jobs: she made herself visible the way Rolon had wanted. Reminded him that he was loved. Told him about the children missing him, needing him. She told him about Juarez, said he should cooperate or else risk god-knows-what. Suggested he get real help. Gave that same information to Rico. Maybe that's all she could do.

He did not want to forgive her. She DID shoot him. She HAD in that moment wanted to end him… at least the part of him that was bad, that had been corrupted, the part of him that was, for a few seconds in her mind, unchangeable. Unfixable. Like the ruined black pitbull in Ty's kennel. For a few seconds she had decided he needed to be put down.

Jesus Christ. Maybe some things could not be forgiven. Maybe I am beyond mercy.

Rico was behind her, his arms wrapped around her, tight, tight. His forearms crossed on her breasts. His whole body pressed against her. Skin against skin. She huffed at the strangeness of her husband's lover on her. The madness of it. He talked softly in her ear, his Spanish distinctly Cuban, his expertise at pretend love in his every word, in the perfection of how he spoke just close enough to create heat… "You are a lioness to his lion. You are a powerful and beautiful woman. I have never met anyone like you. He loves you. He will always love you."

She tipped her head back into him, "Love isn't enough."

He sighed in a kind of resignation maybe. Said, "Perhaps you are right. But then tell me, abogada, why when he fucks me… in his way… it is you I see in his eyes, it is you I feel in his cock. I feel how badly he wishes to be inside of you. It is why he does not penetrate me… because I will never be YOU."

She turned slightly and breathed out hard, "God… god…" His mouth was on her neck, a bare light touch, a kiss with his silky tongue, his arms loosening and a hand slipping to her breast, fingertips on a nipple and bringing it to its full form. His hand dropped lower and slid through the thatch of hair, fingers searching her with his own curiosity. She shook him off and put a hand on his chest… to keep him apart from her, he who was an unreachable truth. He hid so well in his nakedness. She eyed his near-perfect body, his half-erection. Back up to those dark eyes full of secrets, terrifying secrets.

"I need to go," she whispered raggedly. She turned and shakily put her panties on, her bra, her stockings. Jesus… she was wet. He made her wet. She slipped her dress back on and her black leather boots…

Jesus.

Rico was on the bed now, brazen, naked, up on his elbows, a body to worship, hair falling about his face… my god… an awakened splendid penis resting against his thigh, rooted in black silky hair. His beauty… so profoundly different from Todd yet just as mesmerizing, but unlike Todd… Rico knew how beautiful he was. It suddenly dawned on Téa… why the killer of his brother did not kill Rico. Because he knew his business. And his main product was how magnificent he was. How sexual he was. Even as a nine year-old child. It was how he stayed alive all those years working for Manuel Caro. She didn't know whether to throw up, to cry the pain of a hundred children like him… not like him...

… or to fuck him right where he lay.

She shuddered, gasped ever so subtlety and grabbed her little leather purse with the long strap that she wore across her chest. She opened the door and closed it behind her and practically slid down the stairs and was soon in the steady but light rain, walking at first, walking fast… finally running in the puddles away from La Casita Particular de Sylvia. Running to Jedediah who stood waiting for her…

"Jed…"

"Whatcha doing, moms? What the hell are you doing?"

"Let's go…please…"

From the other room across the hall, Todd watched her… watched her running in that rain, disappearing into the grey light. Knowing Jedediah was there because he called that little shit to come get her. The kid had come to the window… demanded to know where she was and Todd…like a fuckin' Juliet on a balcony... hissed, "She's here… she'll be flying out the front door any fuckin' minute. Wait over there, down the block. I wanna see her run."

If looks could kill. "What did you do to her, Pops? Huh?"

"Go on, baby boy." He walked his fingers in the air.

Wondrous glorious Jedediah-hate flew up to that window. "You deserved those bullets. You know you did."

"Walk the fuck away, son," he drawled. "Give her room to run in the rain. Splash dem puddles with dem lawyer... boots."

He smoked his cigarette, breathing in the smoke and holding it in his lungs before letting it out slowly. A fog lay thick in the distance into which she indeed had run. He couldn't hear her footsteps anymore, couldn't hear her breath. The scent of the Popular overtook the scent of her.

Moments later, the door behind him opened and he turned to Rico in the doorway wearing soft pajama bottoms he liked that Todd had brought him from the beach house. Todd looked his form up and down and tipped his chin up slightly, eyes narrow and cold, that cigarette in his mouth, about to fall.

The whore said softly, an undercurrent in his voice of something... "What did your famous president say? Mission accomplished? Fucking in front of her… our way… tan perfecto. Tan eficaz. She will go home now."

Dropping down to pet Abram, giving him a vigorous rubbing of his body, he let the dog lick his face. The quiet was thick. Heavy. Todd then purred, "Now see… what you are forgetting about Bush and his mission accomplished claim… is that it was just the beginning of the war. It didn't end when he said those words. She is not going anywhere."

"Si? And what then… we fuck some more? You play with her more? With both of us?"

Uncoiling from the ground, Todd glared a little. Rico didn't flinch. He was angry… the little fucker was angry. He was protective. Of Téa. Todd took the cigarette out of his mouth. Bit down on his teeth.

"I'm going to Elon's house to get a layout," he said. "I will see if children have been there. I've been trying to get to them and can't. But I'm focused now. Between the crazy, the heroin, getting Delgado to move a little... everything… I'm steady. Yeah." He sniffed. "I'll speak to Raquel, too, since you are not being cooperative. She can get me everything I need…"

"Is that right?"

"Yes, she will get me everything I need to blow Caro's life up to kingdom fucking come." He eyed Rico, not letting him go. He flicked the cigarette. Ash falling to the hardwood floor.

"Are you sick…? The drug…"

"I'll get through it. I've done it a hundred times."

The door swung closed because Rico stepped further into the room. He waited for something. He breathed gently, his chest rising and falling… Todd looked at him again, eyes hard on him. Stuck the cigarette back in his mouth. A breeze blew through the window, the chill making his small nipples hard and he scratched at it. He got inches away from Rico. He ran fingers down his smooth chest, stopped at the drawstring. Rico glared right back at him, not moving. Almost daring Blanco. A hand came up and wrapped around Rico's throat.

Todd took the cigarette out of his mouth… holding it... embers towards smooth skin. He leaned in and kissed full lips, deep kisses, a tongue... inside. He stopped, mouth at Rico's, and licked the whore's mouth from one corner to the other, still holding him by the throat. He then pushed him against the door… and still Rico didn't flinch. Then Todd flipped him around, unkindly, pushing him hard up against the white painted wood. Smashed his body against the whore's… Todd at Rico's back. His hips dug into Rico's ass, mouth at his neck. Breathed hard, heat and wetness on skin. The cigarette was close...

Now… NOW Rico flinched. In Spanish, he growled, "You want to hurt me… or fuck me?"

Deliberately Todd thrust his hips against Rico and the whore shuddered, forehead against the white, feeling Todd's hardness at the cleft of his ass. The movement was... slow. Todd did it again and again until he got Rico's pulse thumping against his lips… Todd reached around at that and stuck his hand into the pants… holding a blood-engorged cock, fingers long enough to graze his balls… stroked the shaft just enough...

Rico whimpered…"Do it… just do it…," groaning softly with cutting need. He could see that cigarette in his periphery, dangling between fingers… hovering.

Then Todd jerked hard into him, squeezing delicate balls, and said in a low growl right at Rico's ear…

"If you touch Téa again, with any part of you… I'll fuckin' rip your dick off with my bare hands. Then I'll shove it down your throat… so you really can't fuckin' breathe. See how good THAT feels. Lo entiendes, maricon?"

He straightened, stuck the cigarette back in between his lips, and grabbed Rico by the hair. He shoved him out of the way, throwing him to the bed. Rico grunted at the shock and turned around, hands gripping the bedcovers, eyes on fire, shaking with his own brand of hate.

El Diablo Blanco turned, called Abram, and promptly left the room. The door slammed shut.

Rico just lay there, panting, then gritted his teeth. Shaking he couldn't stop. His cock fast losing its stiffness. "Cabron!" he yelled, his voice strained. He then took the pillows and bed sheets, tearing at them, tearing them off the bed… smashing the lamp and crashing a goddamn tea set to the floor… taking whatever he could and throwing the shit wherever it would fucking land… being nothing but a ball of mad noisy fury. Blanco… could hurt Rico now. And he fucking knew it. He had all the ammunition in the world to tear him to bits. Heart, mind… everything. And it was clear.. he'd use it if he had to.

When he was afraid. And Blanco… was afraid of himself, the biggest threat of all.

"You fucking maricon bastard!" Rasped, "You puto…" But then he stopped, chest heaving, surrounded by casita chaos… and he suddenly wondered… who was Blanco jealous over exactly… Téa? Or him? He had no idea which way that threat CUT. And he bet… Blanco didn't know either.

Hijo de puta.


Abram was happy and fed. Sylvia had come and gone but made sure to leave good butcher scraps mixed with carrots and rice for him, along with meals for the house guests. Todd had heard Rico upstairs throwing a tantrum. With good reason. Todd had been an asshole. It had come over him… like a red motherfucking tide. He then headed upstairs, showered, scrubbing the night away beneath scalding water, rubbing himself raw. Heroin sick had come in like a bullet train and his shower ended with him puking into the bowl. Coughed and sputtered like an old man. Punishing him for who he was, the real him. The cramping started but he just pushed ahead, you know? He had to be without the drugs.

Like he said, he had shit to do.

Got dressed - black jeans, black tee-shirt, black jacket, black boots… all black because he was a pissed-off dope-sick bitch today. Took off with his dog at his side, the two hitting the street. The rain felt good and he lifted his face to the water and opened his mouth to catch the drops. He smiled at Abram's own smile as he walked briskly next to his person. They huffed it until the house came into view. Elon's house. Looked empty. Wondered if Elon was inside. He walked around to the back. An unlocked door welcomed him and Abram. He stepped into the kitchen and then… the living room.

Eyes roved the chairs, the tables, the computer screen bought especially for the child porn live stream. It sat black and empty. He walked his gaze up the stairs…

Shit, shit, shit…

...shit started happening bad. He remembered the last time he was here and immediately his breathing sped up and his skin felt hot and his vision began to blacken, pictures starting to roll in. The hallucinations. He wanted to cry like a baby because the lack of control was… breathtaking. How everything simply arrived. He shook from pure fear coming from the core of him, his eyes wide and stuck on what he was seeing. All around him the people started rising from the rugs, the wood opening into hell. The sensations on his body burst into life, clawing at him, choking him. His wrists burned from the stockings bolting him to the bed. He huffed from the pain ripping through him. The horror silenced him. He was being tortured and he knew that the disappearing thing would come. The white. The place where he'd either be living in the memory for hours… or protected from the memories… for hours. Still and unmoving… barely breathing… eyes open, responding to nothing.

Abram though… he rubbed his body hard against Todd's legs and he looked down and saw the dog's serious expression, no smile now, and then he dropped to the floor and grabbed hold of his dog, holding him tight. Abram wasn't budging. Wasn't upset or nervous or growling. The dog was telling him the pictures weren't real. He closed his eyes and held him.

Soon the body sensations began to lessen and Peter and Caro faded into the floor, melting away. He breathed fast, sweat dripping all over him, his clothes sticking now. He knew the heroin's remnants were helping, but the dog was a big relief.

"Yeah," he whispered, "... I'm here, here in fucking Havana. Today. Like now." He pressed his face on Abram's body. The muscles sure and thick and peaceful. He plopped onto his ass and lay flat on the floor. The dog got worried and placed his heavy head on Todd's belly, calming when Todd rubbed that head. He lay there, regaining himself. He began to cry, hands on his face, but then didn't. How easy this all happened. And this… THIS… is why he wanted the fucking dope.

He didn't know if he was gonna make being clean. Not with this fucking trauma inside of him.

But then… then… Abram started to growl, moving off Todd. He stood with his head low, his legs spread slightly, ready to jump. And when Todd lifted his head and saw Manuel Caro standing in the doorway in khaki slacks with an open green and yellow guayabera shirt...that pock-marked face with the mole... he knew the shit was real. That bastard wasn't any hallucination. Abram said so with his protectiveness.

"Blanco. Why are you here?"

Todd sat up, slowly getting to his feet and pulling hair back away from his face. He swallowed visibly. Found himself still and silent. Stood before his rapist. He felt his jacket… the gun secure in the inside pocket.

"Are you here to kill me?"

"Tell me, Manny, why would I ever kill the man who helped make me who I am today. I am here to thank you…"

"Oh my god. I knew it. I knew you understood."

"More than I can ever say in words."

To be continued...