Chapter 21- Azrael

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"Azrael! ¿Dónde estás?" Papá yells in panic but I'm frozen in the locked attic that Mamá locked me in for being a bad girl

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"Azrael! ¿Dónde estás?" Papá yells in panic but I'm frozen in the locked attic that Mamá locked me in for being a bad girl. She said to be quiet because if I don't, she'll never let me out.

A small whimper leaves my mouth as I hear him shout again. I'm scared. It's so dark, I can't even see my fingers when I wiggle them in my face. It's so cold, I could feel my body trembling harshly but I have to stay here. I was bad so it's only right. I jump in fright when I hear the thunder roar loudly against the small window.

"¿Dónde diablos está mi hija?" I hear papá roar at my mother. He sounded so angry. I've never heard him yell like that at mamá.

"¡No sé!" I hear her yell back, "I don't know! I thought she was in her room asleep, that's where she was supposed to be." She lies easily but I can detect the hint of panic in her voice.

I feel my bladder loosen when I jump once again at the load crash downstairs. Oh no. I cover my mouth, trying to ease my cries. I wet myself. Mamá is going to be so angry. I cry harder, curling up into the corner of the wall as I listen the them argue.

After a while it goes quiet before I hear heavy foot steps move towards the stairs of the attic. The door rattles before I hear the lock click and the door open, "Azrael?" I hear papá's soft voice call out, "Baby? What are you doing up here?" He asks, scooping me up into his arms, "Jesus, you're freezing." He whispers, tightening his hold on me.

I start to thrash in his arms, "I have to stay up here, papá." I sob, trying to get him to put me down, "I was bad!" I yell when his hold on me tightens.

"Absolutely not." He snarls, "I don't care what you did, you are not staying up here."

"But Papá, I wet myself by an accident." I whimper into his neck, afraid of the consequences.

He pauses, "That's okay. It's okay, we'll take you a bath, alright?" He soothes, "It's okay, you're okay. It was just an accident, baby. It happens."

"Are you mad at me?" I ask.

"God, no." He tells me roughly, his voice straining as he walks us downstairs, "Why would I be mad at you?" He questions gently.

"Because mommy got mad and yelled at me and told me I was disgusting." I explain.

He tenses, "It not disgusting, it was an accident. Our bodies react differently to fear and you're just a kid. I mean I would understand if you were older then yeah it would be a bit gross but you're only four, my love. It's not like it's a habit, it's only happened twice." He rubs a hand up and down my back, "Is that why she put you up in the attic?" He asks.

I shake my head, "I didn't eat all my food." I cry, "I didn't do it on purpose, my stomach just really hurted badly and I couldn't eat no more because it kept hurting more but I tried to, I really did." I sob softly.

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