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towards the stash of food I left underneath the sheets, and I find that
it is gone.
El Padre says he wants to see you.
I turn and find Leo, a young boy, my age maybe, and he is standing
at the top of the stairs. He is holding my rifle.
El Padre gave it to me, he says. I will train to be his guard.
I look at him, amused. He is too fat to run a quarter of a mile. I
grip the sheet and pull it over my exposed chest. I stand up and
stagger to the door. Leo is slightly shorter than I am, and as I brush
past him, I bare my teeth and hiss.
That rifle belongs to me.
Not anymore.
I turn and twist his arm, causing him to release a spray of bullets
over the wall. El Padre’s voice booms from underneath us. He calls
my name. Come here,
darling
, he adds, teasingly.
H
e
I
s
T
he
S
on
O
f
G
od
, Natalya says. He is a
dios
. What is a God? I did
not know then, I do not know now. She was explaining who the man
in the basilica was. It was raining that day. It had been raining for a
long time, two days, maybe. Father had taken Natalya to the basilica.
To pray for Mother, he said.
I stayed at home and gave Mother
paella
and water. She told me a
story about a young girl who was trapped in a castle, guarded by a
dragon with fiery breath. I do not remember what happens, but I
remember a hero riding on a horse to take her far away, to get
married, maybe. I remember the dragon burning down the castle as
he tried to stop them from leaving.
I imagine meeting my hero one day, and I think, when I look into
his eyes, I will know that he is God.
El Padre is looking into my eyes. My sister is in the room.
Is this the one who brings you such wonderful treats? He asks.
I stare into the black void of his gaze, not letting any emotion slip
from my face. Your sister is very beautiful, he says. I pull the sheet
closer around my body, tensing my arms, so he can’t see them shake.
Such a shame, he says. Is it her beauty that kept me from finding
her instead of you dying on the streets?
I know that he is trying to break me, but I clench my jaw and
imagine my hands around his thick neck, pressing into the cold,
rubbery flesh.
Why did your father let you go and not her?
In A Burst
Of Light
12