Page 116 of Ashes

My eyes watered as I tried opening them and the empty contents of my stomach threatened to rise. I closed my eyes to help with the burning and shook my head before opening them again.

My vision remained blurry, but I could now make out a figure standing in front of me through watering eyes.

A man, by the build of him, was wearing an all black outfit. My eyes traveled over him until they locked on the red gasoline container he was holding. And he was dousing the liquid everywhere.

I froze and watched in horror as he surroundedmewith it.

The fumes were fogging up my brain, pulling me to sleep, but I fought against it, blinking repeatedly. The man’s image was finally brought into full focus from the previous blurred one.

“Mateo?” I forced out, my voice hoarse. “Wh-what are you doing?”

His head shot up, but he kept pouring, the reservoir seeming never-ending.

“IfIcan’t have you, then neither can he,” he said, his voice sending a chill over my body. He severed eye contact and went back to pouring the gasoline until he fully emptied the canister.

The smell drowned my lungs, but I fought against the cough bubbling up in my throat. “Mateo,” I said softly,trying to deescalate the situation I was facing. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Shut up.”

“Mateo, look at me.”

“No,” he shouted before throwing the container to the side and moving to retrieve something from the table behind him.

He turned to face me and I looked down at his right hand, my gaze latching onto what he was holding between his fingers. He still hadn’t looked at me, his eyes fixed on the object.

Panic rose in my gut at the sight of the lighter, but I pushed it down, focusing on the task in front of me. I had to stay calm and do my best not to ignite his anger further.

I said his name again, hoping this time he would look my way. And he did.

“Shut up, you bitch,” he barked. “Stop fucking talking.”

I ignored him and spoke again. “If you do this, you’ll also hurt yourself.”

Mateo’s mouth twisted in a smirk. “I’m not the one tied up to a chair.”

He flicked the wheel, a spark igniting. Then he lifted it between us, and my throat jumped.

“We can talk about this…” I tried one more time, a frustrated tear streaming down my cheek as my head dropped.

“Mateo…Ach hadchi?” A foreign deep voice said, anger infused in their tone.

My head shot up, my eyes swinging to where Omar Barrera stood in a perfectly tailored dark gray suit. His jaw tightened as he maintained his gaze locked on his son.

That wasn’t who I was hoping would show up, but a tendril of hope weaved its way through my middle that he would make his son see reason.

Surprise colored Mateo’s features and he looked over at his dad. “I can explain.”

He moved forward, but his footsteps halted when he noticed the puddle of gas on the floor. “Do you know how humiliating this will be if it comes out?” he spat out, his anger permeating the air.

“But, Father?—”

He assessed his son with what looked like pity. “No, you have done enough. I cannot believe you are making me deal with this. I already had an incompetent son and now you are proving to be another one,” he said in disgust. “Let’s go. Now,” he urged in a low voice. He turned around and started walking back toward the exit I assumed was somewhere behind me, expecting his son to follow.

Mateo stood frozen, watching his father’s figure moving away when the previous shame that he projected cracked at the words his father spewed. “No!” he yelled.

Barrera whipped around, fury emanating off his body. “Ach gelti?”

“I. Said. No.” Mateo punctuated every word with an escalating rage.