DEATH'S HEART

Chapter 21 (Radish Fiction Version)

This was my sanctuary. To me, the frosty air was my comfort. This place, no matter how my web of thoughts echoed across the sea of dust, carrying millions of voices–it was my quiet haven. This was where I was free to be my true form. In my true form, I could serve my purpose as nature had intended. This was where I was most powerful. Without limitations. Without inhibitions. I was at peace.

10:01AM, LA RAMBLA, BARCELONA, SPAIN

Carlos Pantoja strolled leisurely through the tree-lined streets of La Rambla. He adjusted the suspenders that held his brown pants around his rotund belly. He stopped at the silver statue of a fairy. Her gown glittered with the metallic paint and glistening rhinestones that matched the ones that glittered around her wings. He looked at the statue in the eye. She was expressionless until her lips slowly moved, almost mechanically, into a smile. Then her arms followed into a graceful lift, as if they were ready to offer him a warm embrace. There she stopped. She was motionless once again, and she was going to stay petrified for who knew how long. He nodded with approval. He had been walking these streets for many years, and he never ceased to admire the discipline and patience that the human statues put into their craft. He resumed his stroll and stopped in front of a another human statue–a bronze angel with wings stretched out, almost ready to flap their wings to carry him way up to the skies. He looked up at the bright and cloudless yonder. His eyes started to tear up. He had always believed that heaven was a beautiful place. It was paradise where suffering did not exist. Why was he frightened though? He closed his eyes as his mind chanted a prayer.

Pray. He had been doing that since he came face to face with a young girl with eyes that had seen forever. She came to him one night–eleven months ago, to be exact. He was lying down on his couch, his head rested comfortably on a pillow. He had a beer in one hand, most probably his seventh can that night, and the other rested nicely on top of a pile of barbecue chips. It was unusually cold in his house. He yelled for Mariana, his wife, to fetch him a nice hot water bottle, and she had to be quick. She complied without question.

She came out to the living room with his request. Her swollen eyes were starting to pool as she took each hesitant step towards him. Carlos glared at her impatiently; he need not say anything for her to quicken her pace. Carlos snatched the rubber water bottle from her with his salt-coated fingers and tucked it nicely next to him.

Mariana stood motionless. She stared at the man she married twenty years ago. Until now, she wondered how her marriage ended this way. She looked at the slob before her. Grease from the filth he was eating covered his face. He took a handful of chips from the bowl, and shoved them into his mouth. She was disgusted at the sight of the crumbs falling from his mouth. She turned away and was ready to leave.

"¡Oiga!" he growled, making her stop abruptly at mid-stride. With his stretched out arm, he jiggled the empty can of beer. "¡Tráeme otra!" he demanded.

Reluctantly, she walked over to take the empty can from him. Noticing all the food pieces and empty foil packs scattered on the floor. She bent over and raked her fingers over the floor to pick up the trash. A painful yelp escaped her lips when she felt Carlos' fingers grab her hair tightly, then yanked her close to his mouth. "¿Qué estás esperando?" he yelled loudly in her ear, sending a sharp pain in her head. "¡Maldita perra!" he grumbled before letting go of her.

Mariana stood up quickly, and scurried back to the kitchen, leaving the trash behind. Everyday she had cried, and many times she had thought of running away. It was so easy to just pack a few change of clothes, leave, and never to return...But she was honouring the vow she made to this terrible man. For better or for worse. 'Til Death do us apart.