After the shower, I let Reyna rest. The moment her head hit my pillow, she was out. I carefully slid her glasses off her face before folding them up and placing them back on my nightstand. Softly, I caressed her cheek before tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

I thought that by having her, every desire and built-up frustration would ease, but it didn't. It only increased. I wanted to be with her, inside her, on top of her, under her, and cuddled up with her. I wanted everything to do with her and her presence.

When I was younger, my mother danced with my father. We were the only ones at the park in the nighttime. My father had the idea which was very unlike him. I could only watch them as they swayed and moved with the rhythm of the slow song. I had never seen as big as a smile on my mother's face until he dipped her, allowing her brown hair to fall gracefully just before he swept her back.

They moved so happily and peacefully. It was like every piece in the puzzle fit—they came together. I smiled at them, hoping to one day have what they held so dearly.

When the song was over, my mother came to me and she laughed. However, my father went to go get himself a drink from the car—something he always did. I was sure he didn't think I noticed, but I did. I hated when my father drank. He was more angry and treated my mother like garbage.

"Your father certainly is something else, isn't he?" she giggled. There was a sparkle in her eyes from the night sky, reminding me of a moon.

"One day, you're going to meet someone, and you won't know what it is, my Saint. All you know is that you will do everything to protect them, and most of all, you will protect you for them," she began. My brows came together as I stared at her, wondering what she could possibly mean.

Suddenly, she erupted in a fit of giggles. There was a blush on her face, and a motherly smile crossed her features. I didn't protest as she pulled me into her arms. Her sweet lavender perfume calmed my soul.

"I know I probably don't make much sense, but one day, you will think back to this conversation and you'll understand. Love is the most confusing thing in the world, but it's only because so many people fight it," she explained. I felt her sigh and I slowly pulled back to look into her eyes again.

"Why, mama? Why do people fight it?" I asked her.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Everyone is scared, my Saint. Love is happiness, sadness, joy, heartbreak, friendship, trust, honesty, loyalty, respect, togetherness. Love is taking all of those deep parts of yourself and giving it to someone else. Many mistaken it as being powerless and weak, but when you give it to right person... you feel impossible." Her eyes gleamed as if she were thinking of something like a moment in time she wished she could hold forever.

I smiled at her.

"I can't wait to meet the love of your life someday. I know they will be amazing. Hopefully, they'll be smart, kind, beautiful just like you, my Saint." She giggled.

"I love you, mama," I said, going back in for a hug and holding her as tightly as I could. "You're the best mom in the entire world."

"I hope so." She laughed.

Just as we pulled apart, my father began making his way over to us. He was swaying as he walked, probably drunk. I sighed as I watched him grab my mother by the arm. The lovey-dovey look in her eyes quickly went away, and replacing it was fear.

"Get your ass home!" he yelled.

She nodded her head just before leaning over to whisper into my father's ear, "don't do this in front of our son." I don't think she knew I heard her, but I could.

She turned back to me with a smile and grabbed ahold of my hand. My father walked off to the car while my mother slowly walked with me.

I tugged her hand and she leaned down and moved her ear closer to my mouth so I could whisper, "do you love papa?"

"I do," she whispered back. "I love him very much."

"Even when he hits you?" I questioned. At the time, my eight-year-old brain didn't think to process how triggering of a question it was. She harshly let go of my hand and just stood there, staring at me as if I were some ghost.

"What did that boy just say?" my father asked, stopping dead in his tracks. I swallowed, and something in me told me to run, but I was too late. He stalked towards me, cocked his hand back, but before he could hit me, my mother took my place. The blow whipped her head to the side as a loud sob ripped out of her.

"You see what you did? Look at what you did!" he shouted at me, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt. Tears were falling from my eyes as he brought his fist back and slammed it into my face.

"Do not hit my son!" I heard my mother sob. My face was throbbing, and he cocked his fist back again just to slam it into my once once more. There was something wet dripping from my nose and I just knew it was blood.

"Stop it! Stop it!" my mother sobbed trying to pull my father away from me, but she was nothing compared to his strength. He pushed her off of him, forcing her to the ground.

"Papa, please!" I begged, sobbing.

It was then that something finally snapped within him. He let me go and glanced at my

mother. Shaking his head back and forth, he turned and walked away.

"I'm sorry," I heard him mutter. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

He walked past the car and just kept walking and walking. My mother hurriedly rushed to my side. She held me in her arms and just rocked me back and forth. I felt her kiss the top of my head as she rubbed my scalp trying her best to soothe me. However, nothing worked.

That was the day everything changed for me. My father would hit every time he got drunk. It got worse when my mother was pregnant with my little sister because I took her beatings. Most times, my mother had no clue. All she knew was that the Saint she thought she birthed slowly became the devil.

Reyna's movement in the bed brought me back to reality. She made a quiet sound that sounded like a snore before silence overcame her. I brought my hand up to my cheek where I wiped away tears.

Her question brimmed my mind—why do you drink so much?

"After years of being under my father's hands and belt and whatever the hell he could get his hands on, I learned to numb the pain—numb the feelings to the point that even now... I can't feel. It was the only way I survived. When I drink, I feel it all, baby. I feel the hurt, the hate, the misery, the sadness. My father was angry when he drank but I'm just so fucking sad! That's why I drink. I drink so I can feel this bullshit and remind myself that I'm human—that I'm existing!" I told her even though I knew she couldn't hear me.

However, I wasn't drunk. I wasn't tipsy. Every bit of intoxication flew out the window the moment I had Reyna in my arms. And all I could do was feel. She brought that to me.

"Fuck," I whispered, getting up, I slipped on a pair of boxers and my sweats. I had to get out. Everything was beginning to suffocate me.

There was balcony attached to my room. All I had to do was peel back the curtains and open the glass door where I stepped out. The wind immediately embraced me, ruffling my hair and poking me with its chill.

Just as I took a deep breath, my phone rang. I pulled my cell out of my pocket and immediately noticed the no Caller ID. With my furrowed brows, I answered the call before bringing it up to my ear.

"Saint, I can't talk for long." It was Adriano.

"What's wrong?" I asked. He sounded stressed, and it would be a lie if I said it didn't start to worry me.

"It's Giovanni. He's dead," Adriano informed me. My heart skipped an entire beat. I could hear the moment it did. It was like a hand reached into my chest and squeezed it.

"What do mean he's dead? How do you know?" I asked. My hand latched onto the railing of the balcony. I could have saved him.

"Tino killed him. He found out he was pretending to be Red and shot him in between the eye. Police called me down to identify the body. I can send you pictures of it now. I'm sorry, Saint," Adriano said.

My phone dinged, and I pulled it away from my ear to see two image attachments. I clicked on them and saw Giovanni—lifeless—dead.

Reyna is definitely going to hate hearing about this.

"You know what this means? It's war," I told him.

Adrian sighed. "You know I'm here."

"Thank you for telling me," I said. Adriano paused almost as if he were surprised that I'd be thanking him. It wasn't like me, but after losing Giovanni, I couldn't take Adriano for granted anymore.

"No problem, brother," Adriano said.

I hung up the phone and placed it back into my pocket. After taking a deep breath, I walked back into my room and closed my balcony door. Making my way over to the bed, I laid down beside Reyna, and let her grab ahold of me and snuggle however she wished. It wasn't anything I was used to. Reluctantly, I curled my arm around her waist and fell asleep.

—

Triple update? This is y'all's christmas gift! You're welcome haha!

Question: what's your favorite part of Saint's character?