Page 12 of Morena

VIII.

It was raining, storming, the sky colliding with the earth until the streets drowned beneath rushing water.

That is what happens when it refuses to rain for weeks, the ground swallowing every drop until it spills over.

Even if I wanted to stay away from the house, I had no choice.

I needed shelter, and there was only one place left.

Around three in the morning I climbed onto the dumpster, reached for the window, and pried it open. I slipped back inside, into the room with the dirty mattress. I couldn’t feel her anymore. Maybe tonight I will finally sleep.

My clothes clung to me, soaked through, but I was too exhausted to care. I didn’t bother to dry myself. I collapsed onto the mattress, and the moment my eyes shut, darkness swallowed me whole.

Her voice found me, faint at first, then clearer, tugging me between dream and waking.

I could feel her touch. Cold, invisible hands gliding up my legs, from my ankles to the soft skin of my inner thighs.

I lay on my stomach, and her weight pressed down across my back.

Her presence carved into me, slicing my skin open, again and again, the same name etched until the pain reached my nerves and forced me to move.

My cock hardened, twitching against the mattress beneath me, but my eyes stayed closed. I couldn’t tell if I was dreaming or if she was truly here, possessing me again. Either way, the thought of her made me want her.

My body rose from the mattress, levitating, suspended upside down.

My back faced the ceiling, my chest still toward the mattress, yet I floated as if half-asleep.

My cock hung stiff, my blood rushing until my face burned.

Her cold presence closed in, raising goosebumps, her touch sending shivers down my spine.

Then her mouth was on me, her lips pressing around my hard cock, pulling me down into her while I remained paralyzed in the air, something holding me still.

My lungs seized, caught between begging for air or surrendering it to her.

Her tongue moved, stroking left and right across my sensitive skin, making me moan for more.

Her hands cupped my balls, firm as she sucked harder, burying me deeper into her throat. Her fingers tightened, sliding up and down as my muscles twitched, my spine bowing like it might break. I couldn’t bear it, I was already on the edge.

Release tore through me, as if she was drinking my soul with her hunger. I came choking, upside down in the dark, vision flashing with bursts of light, while she kept me in her mouth, swallowing every drop until I was left trembling.

My eyes snapped open, gasping between ragged moans. She stood below me now, tilting her face upward, her eyes gone white.

“How does it feel,” she asked, “to be caught between death and life? To crave the pleasures of the living, when the one you want is already dead?”

“This isn’t what I want,” I answered, my eyes flicked to her lips. “Nor is it what you want.”

“Then tell me, what do you want?” she pressed.

“I want the hurt to end. I want the dark. But you…” I leaned closer, my mouth nearly brushing hers. “You want to feel alive. And when I fuck you, it makes you feel alive.”

I laughed.

She screamed, high-pitched voice slicing my ears. “You mean when I fuck you ?“ she hissed, dropping me to the floor.

I groaned, clutching my crotch where the mattress hadn’t softened my fall. “Keep telling yourself that, Morena,” I muttered with a broken laugh.

“Did you call me because you were lonely? Or because you wanted to be destroyed?”

“If you want death,” she whispered, stalking closer, claws digging into my chest beside my heart, “I can make it happen, 1 idiota. ”

“Do it,” I challenged. “Kill me.”

Her face hovered so close I could feel the chill radiating off her skin. She laughed softly. “That would be too easy, ojos tristes. What I want is more. I want your mind. Your soul. I want to be the only thought you carry day and night, the only need, the only hunger.”

She dragged her tongue across my cheek, claws scoring lines into my skin, then pressed her lips to mine. Pulling back, she smeared her bloodied fingers against my mouth. I tasted metal, her blood, and mine, and I knew I was already hers.

I took her hips, pulled her into me, and spun her around, pressing her to the wall as if she were made of flesh and blood.

“You are the one who is being possessed, Morena. You are the one who can’t leave me in peace because I can’t leave your mind and your soul,” I chuckled. “If you have one.” I raised an eyebrow. “The only reason I am not dead yet is because I am the only one who can make you feel alive.”

“You are so wrong,” she whispered, a moan against my ear.

2 “Pruébame lo contrario,” I growled, my palm slamming the wall to steady myself.

She leaned into me, her hips moving, then she laughed softly and low.

3 “En otro momento,” she said, and left.

A heavy thud came from downstairs. This time, I didn’t go for the window. Two voices I knew filled the house, so I slipped down the hallway and froze at the end, listening.

Paco and Carlos.

Paco was furious. He shoved Carlos against the wall. “Are you fucking 4 loco? ”

“Did I hit a nerve, 5 hermano? “ Carlos said, letting the word hang while Paco’s hand clamped his elbow.

“One is taking my son to Italy, raising him as your own. But another thing is to grab that pendejo and make him take care of our mother,“ Paco spat.

“Like you would do it better,” Carlos snapped.

6 “Somos la familia, Carlos. ?Entiendes? Familia.” Paco pushed him again. “Familia.”

“We have not been family since 1984, and you know it,” Carlos said, then shoved past Paco and walked out of the house.

Paco slammed his fist against the wall once more, then left and closed the door behind him.

They had to know what had happened. They must.

I stood at the top of the stairs. Warm hands settled on my shoulders for a second, but I could not see who it was. Then a sudden shove sent me stumbling, and I tumbled down the stairs. My head struck the floor.

Ringing filled my ears while footsteps approached. All I could see was my own blood and a pair of black boots. And myeyes closed shut.

May 24, 1996.

I was twelve. I was born and raised in the Samaná region, which that same year became Las Terrenas.

My mother raised me alone. I never had a father, not the one I knew anyway.

We lived in a small rented house near the villas where she worked as a housekeeper.

And me, a boy who had never had anything, fell for a girl who had everything.

She was eleven then, and she wanted to see the cave. I had nothing to give her, so I wanted to make that one wish come true. Now I wish I had never done it.

We were kids playing at love, running, and spinning.

I remember her golden curls. She was different from anyone I knew, and her smile made me feel like a better person.

We ran until we reached the cave. She wanted to play a game where I chased her and tried to catch her.

We didn’t see the water inside the cave.

Mama had warned me about it. She warned about something in the water that, once it had you, it would pull you down. Maybe it was the grass, maybe something else. But she told me, once you fall, you will never be found.

Her name was Gabriella, my first love.

Just before she reached for my hand, I watched her fall into the water. I didn’t jump after her. I stood above and watched her drown, watched her sink as if something had taken her.

They never found her. They never will. They blamed me and my mother.

The owner of one of the villas had my mama locked up.

I never saw her again. My 7 abuelo put me on a plane to Barcelona and told me never to come back home.

Here, I had no one but family friends who turned out not to want me at all.

So I became nobody, wanting to be drowned like Gabriella.

At the beginning, I had nightmares. Then I began to forget a little, but she still haunted me.

Morena knew it because that swamp with the crows was one of my worst fears: seeing Gabriella drown again, surrounded by crows, and having them tear out my eyes so I would never be able to see her again.

I promised myself I would never love. I promised myself I would never be happy because she could never be happy. I felt guilty, and I was guilty, and she knew it.

She made me see it on purpose. She broke me.

Then the memory stopped, and I was back on the beach where I had first seen her. She lay in the sand with the sea lapping her legs. She watched me as I approached. I lay down beside her and asked, “Is this how I die?”

She did not say anything. She only looked at the horizon and said, 8 “La muerte es apenas el inicio.”

1. idiot

2. Prove me wrong

3. Another time

4. crazy

5. brother

6. We are family, Carlos. Do you understand? Family.

7. Grandfather

8. Death is only the beginning.