My Possessive Criminal

Capítulo Sesenta y Dos

I think about her offer, but something holds me back.

"What are you going to do to her?" I ask. She shakes her head.

"Not to her, Mi Hija, for her. I'll take her to the police, give her in, let her serve her time and then she'll come out a changed person. I won't let her know about your whereabouts, and I'll take her far away."

Mom's firm tone almost makes me want to believe her.

"Why should I trust you now? You could've told me this before," I voice my thoughts. Mom just shakes her head.

"Mi Hija, sooner or later, you'll be older. And the day will come, where you'll regret every choice you have ever made since the day you joined Killahead. You're nineteen, and only now do I notice a beautiful young woman stood in front of me. The only thing standing in the way of you and your sanity is your past."

I watch her as she comes closer to me, cupping my face in her hands and comfortingly stroking my cheeks.

"Let go, Mi Hija. The past won't do you any good."

I don't even notice the single tear drop down my cheek. Mom wipes it away, and for the first time in a long time, I notice the sweet look in her dark eyes and a genuine smile on her poisonous lips.

"When did you find out you were dying?" I whisper.

"A week ago. I was at a small meeting with our relatives in Spain. We discussed that it would be best Xena was sent to your uncle's prison in Madrid. She'll be well taken care of and he'll keep an eye on her."

I swallow. "Why does it feel like you're lying, mom?"

She takes a step back.

"Because you've been taught not to trust."

How could everything all of a sudden become better in just a second? This wasn't right. Mom was dying, and Xena was being sent away, and yet, it still felt like so many problems were standing in the way.

"Is that why you tricked me into coming here?" I ask. She smiles.

"You're a smart girl, cariño, you figure it out. We both know you wouldn't have listened if I called you and demanded to see you."

I nod, agreeing wholeheartedly.

My mother was dying. She is dying, and after what feels like ages, I finally realized that death was more valuable than anything.

She holds out her hand, the gun in her hand mocking me. I furrow my eyebrows.

"No."

Mom smiles. "I don't want to go through the pain, Mi Hija. Do it. Kill me now, and get it over with."

It didn't feel right killing somebody who wanted it. There wasn't any point to that.

"No, mom." I shake my head. "I can't kill without his permission."

"Turner's?" She questions, tilting her head. I nod in reply. She takes a deep breath and lifts the gun to her head.

"You're going to go to hell, mom," I tell her, my voice dull and in desperate need of emotion.

"I don't mind where I go so long as I see you there, Mi dulce Hija." She smiles and with one last look at me, she pulls the trigger.

I don't know if it's out of confusion or my lack of it, but I don't hear the shot. As loud as it is, I don't hear it.

How long have I wanted her dead? And now she finally is. And I feel nothing.

Nothing's shifted. Her words didn't coax me, and her looks didn't change me. What she said was for her own selfish needs, so that she dies knowing she tried to make amends, and that at least she tried asking for forgiveness, whether I forgive her, or not.