| 1st Book In Devil May Care Series |
If you're going to start a war, you better know what you're fighting for.
The voices in her head won't stop but pain is something she's use too. Azrael lives a life shedding tears of sadness, she hates the world...
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"Does it hurt a lot, A?" My 12 year old brother Rico had asked me for like the hundredth time.
Yes.
It fucking hurt.
It hurt like hell but I would never say it out loud.
I shook my head before meeting my brothers eyes, "It doesn't." I lie, biting my lip to keep myself from wincing. My mother had beat the living shit out of me as soon as I got home and she did it right in front of Rico.
"You're lying. She hit you really hard." His voice was trembling with fear. Something I use to feel the first time this ever happened.
"I told you to go to your room." I basically shouted it at him but he hadn't listened to me. He stood and watched while he screamed at the top of his lungs for our mother to stop. She didn't though. I didn't want him to see me when I was like that but he didn't understand that.
"I didn't want to leave you alone, A." He replied, latching onto my hand for some type of comfort.
I didn't want to leave you alone.
Lucio use to say that to me when we were younger.
Lucio.
He's back. I hadn't really really processed it. He was someone I waited for at least 2 years and when he never came back, I stopped waiting. I stopped hoping for someone to come back to me. He left and now he's back. I didn't know how to feel. Happy? Sad? Angry? I genuinely didn't know.
It was like everyone left. Maybe not intentionally but they still left.
People will promise you to stay and leave you the next day. It was something I learned.
"Azrael?" My brothers voice rings out again, "You think papi is okay?" His question sends a sharp pain throughout my chest because I was wondering about the same thing almost everyday.
It had been 3 years since we last saw our father.
"I think he's okay." I lie, brushing his thick curls away from his face. "I miss him, though." I admit.
"Me too." He whispers. He didn't have to tell me, I already knew. Rico was more open about his feelings when it came to our father. I would catch him crying himself to sleep sometimes or he would even scream it at me when he was having a bad day. Rico was struggling and he was only 12. I couldn't give him a better life because I didn't know how to. The only thing I could possibly give him was a shoulder to cry on. An older sister.
