freak ࿂ suicide squad

18 ࿂ dolores

     Zolita sat silently on the floor with Mateo resting in her arms. The toddler giggled as he played with his mother's hair. In front of the two, Emmi was brushing her doll's hair.

     Zolita imitated the movement of her daughter, and brushed her fingers through her son's dark locks. The wisps were smooth, and flowed endlessly against his soft scalp.

     "Tía said you were sick," Emmi claimed, laying her doll on the ground. The little girl looked up at her mother with furrowed eyebrows. She looked too old for her own good. "Are you sick, mama?"

     The Latina was unsure of how to answer. What was sick even defined as, anyways? She didn't eat anymore: did that make her sick? She didn't drink anymore: did that make her sick? She hadn't slept since the mission: did that make her sick?

     "I'm fine, baby," Zolita reassured her daughter. She looked down at Mateo, who lunged out of his mother's lap and began to toddle away. "I just... mama did something on accident."

     "It was only an accident. When I accidentally spilled my juice, that's what you told me. An accident is an accident."

     "Your accident didn't hurt anyone," whispered Zolita, repositioning herself so she was on her knees. The Latina let out a deep breath then plastered a smile on her face, "you know what? You're right, baby. An accident is an accident."

     "Yep," Emilia shrugged, "wanna help me with my dolls? Their hair is sticky from Mateo playing with them."

     Zolita picked up the nearest doll. She was pale, with smooth skin. Her hair was blonde and stuck in different directions. She wore a tight white shirt and her bottom was bare, only covered by white underwear. She resembled Harley.

     Zolita had the urge to rip the doll's head off. Instead, she picked up a comb and began to rip through the knotted locks. Clumps of blonde fell to the ground. The doll's head fell to the ground after one particularly rough tug.

The head rolled several inches, before stopping right before Zolita's daughter. Emmi grabbed the head and examined it, before handing it back to her mother with a shrug.

"An accident is an accident," dismissed Emilia, not phased by her broken toy.

࿂

When Carmen entered the apartment, Luis in one hand, groceries in the other, she was immediately cornered by Zolita.

"I think I need to go back," claimed Zolita, her eyes wide. "You said it— they can help me. Not in the way you think, but they can stop me from hurting more people. Yeah?"

"What about Emmi? And Mateo?" Carmen questioned in response, slithering by her sister to go to the kitchen. "They're your children, Zo, you can't just leave them."

     "A few days ago you were fine with me going back to them. Now, you suddenly want me to stay?" Zolita retorted with furrowed eyebrows. "Nothing has changed Car—"

     "Everything has changed!" Carmen hissed, shrugging the bag of groceries onto the countertop. Luis clinged onto his mother, his fat hands clutching at her covered breast. "I can't raise three kids alone! What if you die? What then, huh?"

     "That's the problem!" Zolita yelled. Luis' bottom lip quivered, so she lowered her voice. "I can't fucking die. Don't you get that? I was shot and I lived. I was set on fire and I lived. I screamed so loud that I disrupted the entire earth... and I lived."

     "You being immortal is a problem?" Carmen scoffed, rounding around the island to sit at one of the stools. She tugged down the top of her tank top to breastfeed Luis, who immediately latched at her breast.

     "It is when my family isn't. I'll watch you all die. You will die. Emmi will die. Mateo will die. Luis will die. You'll all die and I'll be stuck here."

     "So you're planning for 80 years in the future instead of for right now?" Carmen asked, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "Sounds about right."

     It was silent, except for the soft sounds of Luis sucking on his mother's nipple. Carmen sighed slightly, and placed her palm flat against the cool island.

     "Do you know what the deadliest genocide was?" Zolita asked out of the blue, her voice strained.

     "The Holocaust," Carmen answered without a second thought.

     "Do you know how many people died in the holocaust?"

     "Six million, right?" Carmen answered, unsure of herself.

"Do you know how many people I've killed alone?" Zolita asked, her jaw clenched.

"I don't... I don't know, Zo," lied Carmen. She had an idea. The hundreds before her capture, the millions after. It all added up.

"I have killed 8,536,742 people. I feel it every time one of them dies from the consequences of my actions," Zo responded.

Carmen froze. It was one thing to do the math in your head. It was another to hear your sister admit that she was deadlier than the fucking Holocaust. Luis stopped nibbling on her raw nipple, and instead began to cry against her smooth flesh. Carmen shushed the child, and readjusted him so his head laid flat against her collarbone.

"I need to stop myself before that stupid fucking volcano explodes, because it will kill everyone in the United States," mumbled Zo, leaning forward and pressing her elbows against the marble island.

"How can you stop it?" Carmen whispered, brushing her fingertips over her son's scalp.

"I need to go back to the people who can find metahumans who can help me... I have no fucking clue what my powers are, Carmen," Zolita admitted. "It started out as mind reading, then I could control people, then I could scream, then I was immortal. I don't know where the progression stops."

"If you're getting more powerful, then maybe you could stop it yourself."

"My powers... as I get older, I don't gain more control. They just get more powerful and I lose more control."

The two girls went silent again, like always. A drop of water dripped from the tap. A bird squawked outside. Thousands of thoughts began to intrude Zolita's mind.

"Do you remember my name?" Zolita asked Carmen. "Before mami and papi... before they died, my name was different. But I made everyone forget it. Do you remember? You were just a baby then."

Carmen looked into her sister's eyes, and thought hard. She hadn't even known that her sister wasn't really Zolita. What else could she be?

"It was Dolores. I was Dolores Mejia. I loved animals and babies and I loved cooking with papi and I loved taking care of the garden with mami. I was gentle and kind."

"That's not you anymore... is it?"

Zolita just smiled.

When Carmen got out of the shower later that night, ready to discuss their plans for the future, Zolita was gone.