Hey guys! Sorry for not having updated in a while! The actual work that comes with taking 19 hours in college finally emerged, and since I'm going to study abroad to Italy next semester, I need to save up and apply to scholarships. Which is, as you can imagine, a lot of essays; I also am not a US citizen, so there are a lot of scholarships with amazing rewards that I can't apply for. Therefore, I am applying to some that have small rewards, so the money can start building up.
Do you guys know of any scholarships for US permanent residents? I already have a subscription to Scholarshipowl, Fastweb, Niche and . I would really appreciate it if you could help me out 😊.
Anyways, on to the story…
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Enrique woke up because of Socorro's crying; he recognized the weight on his chest, his mouth felt dry and he had an unbearable headache. He knew that his dry mouth and headache were the results of crying himself to sleep the previous night; of course, he had been quiet. At first, he locked himself in the bathroom after he made sure Luisa was asleep, and he cried while burying his face on the red hoodie, which still had Miguel's scent; the tears were so strong that his screams, which called out to his son, came out with no noise. Then, when he didn't have any more strength, he'd go back to the bed and sob quietly until sleep came; he would have rather gone inside the boy's room, but that was where his mother lived now. In the past, Elena has taken pride in being strong and not letting anyone see weakness, but now that fire had burned out; at night, her crying was strong while her husband held her, and in the morning, her eyes looked puffy and she worked with no passion.
Two weeks had gone by since Miguel's death, but every day felt as if it were the first. Enrique turned to look at his wife, who was still in a deep sleep; he knew that for now, everything was alright in her world. As soon as she'd would wake up, it would all be destroyed, because Miguel had died; well, 'murdered' was the right term. He forced himself to sit up on the bed, surprised that even that small action took up so much of his strength, and then dragged his lifeless body over to Socorro's crib. As soon as he picked her up, she stopped her crying, but began opening and closing her mouth, asking to be fed. Enrique couldn't help but chuckle, now this was the only treasure he had left, and he had to take care of it, he wasn't going to let her go own her own. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.
He gave one last look to his wife, before quickly stepping out of the room while holding Socorro. The house was quiet, although it was past 10 am, but he heard the noise coming from the workshop, and knew that Berto, Carmen and the twins were probably working. Berto and Carmen had always been the irresponsible couple; when dating, they would go away together and not return home until dawn. Carmen came from a bad family, and the family knew that she dated Berto to try and run away from the situation. In the end, they had no choice but to marry after she revealed she was pregnant, the family tried their best to accept Carmen, but she was mostly lazy, using her pregnancy as an excuse to not work. Luisa, on the other hand, was hardworking, even when pregnant she worked hard, Elena had to tell her that she needed to rest.
But now after the boy's passing, Carmen had stepped up and showed real responsibility, working twice as hard as Elena used to. She'd wake up at dawn and make breakfast for everyone, to then head to the workshop and work on all the orders on her own. Elena would sometimes join her, but Carmen eventually turned her away, understanding that the family needed to mourn. Berto took care of all the funeral arrangements, and even volunteered to go identify the body, so that Enrique wouldn't have to. The twins were only a little over three years old, and they didn't understand what was happening, so it wasn't strange that they'd still run around and play even when Carmen tried so hard to hush them.
The funeral had been lovely, with all the town showing up, Enrique wasn't surprised because he knew that his son was memorable and could leave an impact on everyone easily. The news that he had been murder caused a lot of commotion, mostly because no one understood how such a boy could have such a tragic fate. Who in this small and wonderful town could commit such an atrocity? The police narrowed it down to one suspect, one of the few drunks that haunted the streets, the only one that showed violent behavior while intoxicated. They also knew that this man was related to Ernesto de la Cruz, and Miguel alone had been the one responsible for the celebrity's demise. However, the man's link to the celebrity was brushed under the rugs, and the man wasn't getting any part of the fortune before or after de la Cruz's downfall, so if he would have murdered the boy, there wasn't much of a motive. It didn't help that the town had poor technology, and even if the man left any footprints on Miguel, they wouldn't know how to proceed.
Enrique arrived at the kitchen to find Gloria already there, cleaning and wrapping up everyone's breakfast for it to stay warm. It was just a waste of time, the family had barely been eating, so why did it matter to keep the food warm? "Buenos dÃas" he greeted his sister with a smile and a nod.
She turned, and her face lit up when she saw the baby, "Buenos dÃas" she told him in a dull tone, "y muy buenos dÃas para ti también" she added with a sweet tone while looking at the baby.
"Gracias for making breakfast" Enrique said and immediately got frustrated with how weak his voice sounded. He sighed and sat down, putting Socorro on his lap.
"De nada" she responded with a smile, "Carmen has been working so hard lately, so from now on I'll be taking care of the house while she works on the shop" She sat on the chair next to him and looked at Socorro, "How are you today? Are you all nice and clean?" she asked in a sweet tone.
Ah joder! He'd forgotten to change the baby's diaper! That is literally step one right after she wakes up! What was wrong with him? Enrique sighed loudly and closed his eyes, trying to control his expression.
"I'm guessing that's a no" Gloria answered with a sympathetic smile, "You eat while I bathe and take care of this little ángel"
"I can take care of my daughter" Oh no. He immediately looked at his sister with an expression filled with panic, that's not what he meant! Gloria had a reputation for taking things personally, and this sure as heck was one where it would be reasonable to.
She read his expression and responded with a warm smile, "when I come back this plate better be empty" she pushed a plate of scrambled eggs and chorizo in his direction, and then proceeded to grab Socorro from his lap and plan a kiss on her cheek, "and I'm not an idiot, I WILL look in the trash" she added and stepped out the door.
Enrique looked down at his food and couldn't fight the overwhelming disgust and nausea that filled his chest, which made him ashamed. In the past, his sister's cooking was a treat, of course Elena knew how to cook decent meals, but Gloria's cooking was a blessing, she could put anything together for a meal and it would still taste amazing. But now, food smelled and tasted disgusting, he closed his eyes and told himself that he would grab the fork and start eating on three. One, two, three! His hand stayed still, and he didn't try to move it; a sigh left his mouth and he pulled his head up to look at the ceiling, focusing on one point without thinking of anything. This was worse than death, and even if he was to contemplate suicide, how was he going to be able to go through with it when something as trivial moving his hand seemed impossible?
Tears filled his eyes, and he wrestled with them, proud when he managed to pull most of them back, this wasn't the time to cry. He didn't have any strength to handle another breakdown, those he saved for the night, when he had enough energy to cry as hard as possible. It was a vicious cycle where he gathered energy during the day to use it up at night, and then wake up the next morning feeling numb, and gather some more to use at night and so on. Was this even healthy behavior? Who cares. Nothing matters anyways. He forced his body up from the chair and grabbed the plate with the food, throwing it in the trash and covering it up with napkins in an effort to be considerate towards his sister. She was going to care for Socorro, right? That means he could go back to bed. He closed his eyes once more praying for any kind of miracle, anything. He had once been a man, but he died the day his son died, and now there were only leftovers. And even his body felt weak, as if he had a horrible case of the flu, he just wanted to sleep and cry until death came.
He opened his eyes and found that no miracle occurred, he was still standing in the middle of the kitchen with an empty plate on his hand. His son was still dead, and the family was just as broken as before. He sighed, looking up and closing his eyes one last time "Mijo, my precious son, we miss you. We miss you so much. Please come home"
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A quick comment here: I had mentioned that I was going to do a version on the Land of the Living, but didn't feel that it was so crucial to the story, that's why this chapter is short (also I didn't have the time to make it longer, yikes). And this is just me trying to put a face on depression, mostly from what I remember when I had it.
I'll do my best to make the next chapter as long as possible, thank you for being so supportive!