sanctuary. [oscar diaz]

[17] happy new year to the broken and bruised.

[glitter - 700 shake]

______

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO THE BROKEN AND BRUISED.

ONE MONTH LATER -
NEW YEAR'S EVE

I never knew just how cold the bathroom floor was until I found myself breaking down on it every night. My knees to my chest and my face inbetween to muffle my cries. Oscar couldn't hear me, not that he was anywhere around to. He was in the front of the house with the rest of the Santos like he always was. And Cesar definitely wasn't around to hear me.

Oscar kicked him out because he didn't do his job. And now Olivia was dead. Not that I cared much for her, but I knew Ruby did and I knew he was in pain. Not just physically, but emotionally.

I knew what that looked like from a mile away.

The kind of scarring that only you could feel from the inside. Always there, always weighing you down. The kind of pain that's so heavy it forces you to sink down to the cold tiles on the bathroom floor everyday to cry out tears you hope will somehow magically make everything whole again.

They never do, though.

They don't fix what's broken; they just give you a headache. And then you take Tylenol to stop the pain in your brain, hoping it will fix the pain in your heart, too.

It never does, though.

It had been an hour of holding myself as I rocked back in forth in a small ball, the tears leaving trails of sorrow on my cheeks. I could hear the commotion of the Santos smoking and drinking on the lawn. Then the commotion turned to yelling. Yelling from a voice I knew well. Then, a minute later loud barking echoed.

I began to choke on my sobs, picturing Cesar being forced to walk away from his home for the third time this week. The only place he's ever known. The first time Oscar and the Santos beat him again just for showing up and the second time he pleaded for me to help, but I stood tall as I told him with teary eyes that I couldn't.

I had the power to help him, but if I did I would lose the credit I was just now starting to accumulate. The Santos listened to me. They had to. And if I told them to let Cesar back there's no doubt they would have, but I knew it would spread to all of my other gangs. Soon enough there would be whispers of how their leader had no backbone. Then, my respect would be lost and before I knew it a coup led by someone much stronger would take place and then both Cesar and I would be homeless.

I'm not sure if Oscar would stand up for me. He wasn't fighting for his brother now, so what makes me think he would give up his well-earned title for me? I knew he would at least want to speak on my behalf, but that didn't look good on him as a leader either. He has already done so much for me, I'm afraid asking him to do that would be asking him to do too much.

This was my burden to bear. I wasn't dragging him down with me.

Eventually, I pull myself up with trembling hands and arms. I use the sink because God knows I wasn't strong enough on my own. I'm not sure how long after the barking it took me to get up. There is no such thing as time on the cold tile floors. The numbers on a regular clock are replaced with fears and haunting memories, instead. I looked in the dirty mirror to see my eyes bloodshot red. I opened it up and grabbed the eye drops from beside the various bottles of medicines. I put a few drops in my eyes and blinked rapidly, hoping it would make them work faster. I put it back in the mirror cabinet and turned the sink on. I splashed my face with water, getting rid of any evidence of my breakdown. This had become a routine for me within my month of leadership.