For the past five years, I've loved him from afar. He became my awakening. My escape.
Being the daughter of a serial killer has never been unicorns and rainbows. I've hidden in the sea of criminals from a young age, waiting to strike at the perfect...
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CROSSFIRE II, STEPHEN
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"Oh, you found it!" Sarah exclaims as I re-entered the kitchen.
"Yes," I smile. "It wasn't in the basement, after all."
Not a complete lie. I set it up in the living room area. The lit candles adorn the shrine, complementing to colors of the tablecloth. My mother and sister's photographs smile back at me. This is the only time of year these photos leave my bedroom. They're the only ones in the house. All the other photos were in the basement or with my grandfather. To say I missed them was unexplainable. I barely remember them; only their faces are kept in my mind with their photos.
"Gen, have you seen Dad?" I hear Sarah ask behind me. I place the last photo down before turning towards her.
I smile slightly in apology. "No, sorry."
"No problem," she beams, sugar skull in hand. "I'll find him."
With that, she's off to find him.
We spend two hours, once the clock hits eight o'clock, hanging out and praying for our loved ones. We pray they are well as if they could tell us about anything in the world now. They couldn't. I don't know why this holiday was a thing. The only good thing that comes out of this is the food. Nothing else.
Some memories are too painful to want to remember every year.
***
I exhale as we walk out of the church. The air has become chilly. The digging behind my ears has become a nuisance, I end up pulling off the marigold flower crown from my hair. I walk away from everyone, wanting to be alone with my thoughts. I cannot believe my father had the audacity to kidnap Alba. Instead of praying for our loved ones, I spent my time praying to God that Vicente wouldn't kill us both. A soft breeze sweeps through my hair as I make it to my car. I settle in and turn on the ignition when the passenger seat opens.
"What happened today? You keep killing dad with your glare," Marcos speaks first.
"Nothing you need to worry yourself with," I say. "It's being taken care of."
