The door bangs shut, and I stand there, staring at my papa in his wheelchair by the bay window. He's wearing a classic Armani cut tuxedo with a burst of light coming from the lit cigarette in his hand. I release a shuddering breath, trying to make sense of the reasonings for needing to see my papa.

Children always have those things that make them wet the bed at night.

It could be the monsters underneath their beds or closets, the dark, insects, dolls, etc. My fear was my papa. Every time he barged into my room, the night ended with tears gushing down my face. He's impossible to impress unless he loves you, and I wasn't the son he loved, wanted. I'm the runt in his batch of children, and he has made it crystal clear.

All my life, I've been chasing after the approval of my papa, and for what? He is an abomination. All of his qualities are what I loathe in a role model. But isn't it normal to want your papa's approval? They're the ones that are supposed to support you no matter what and pick you up when you fall, but Papa wants to be the reason I fail.

Because if I succeed, he will be forced to see how idiotic he was to underestimate the baby in the pack.

"Why are you staying by the door?" My papa asks, a gush of smoke expelling from his lips. "Tienes miedo de mi?"

(Are you scared of me?)

I don't give him the amusement of earning a response from me. Instead, I stride to the white cushions in the middle of the room and contain composure as I sit down. Internally, I'm trembling in my boots, but I hide behind a disguise.

My papa lifts his cig in the air with a ghostly smile. "Congratulations, Asiel." He claps his hands, the buds falling from the ends of the stick. "You managed to find a woman to marry. Better than I expected. I don't see what she sees in you. You're hardly a man, but I digress. Congratulations, my nino." 

My eye twitches. "Thank you."

"Where did you meet her again?"

I clear my throat. "At the bar."

"Right!" His mouth opens with realization. "Gato mentioned she was a stripper. Everything makes sense now. Que perra. She's using you, hijo. Make sure to have the lawyers write up a prenup."

(What a bitch.)

My fingernails dig into the palm as I struggle to bite my tongue. "No offense, Papa, but what I decide to do going forward is up to me. I don't need nor have asked for your advice."

"It's my duty as a papa to watch over my hijo." He smacks his lips together, forming a straight line.

I scoff. "Since when?"

He chucks the cigarette into the trash can and steers himself beside the couch armrest. "Since forever, Mihijo. Just like how I look after my sobrinos."

Realization dawns on my face. "Ahh, I see. You want to talk about Gato? A little too late. We don't need him and are doing perfectly fine without him. So, there's nothing to discuss."

My papa's moss-colored eyes narrow into silts. "That's where I disagree. We have plenty to discuss, like why you exiled a member of the familia over something so pathetic."

My head falls back, laughter escaping my lips in utter shock. "Pathetic? He sold out the familia, papa! You would've murdered him if you were Jefe, but because he's your favorite sobrino, he gets a pass?"

Papa knocks the jittery bug out of me with a brutal slap on my cheek. "Callate! Se sabe con quien esta?"

(Shut up! Do you know who you're with.)

"I don't care. Gato stays out," I demand through gritted teeth.

Before I can blink, Papa's fist slams into my face, and I hear a menacing crack. Blood drips from my nose and lips, and judging by the pain radiating from my face-- I was going to wake up with bruises.

"No se equivoque," he hisses, his eyes wild with fury. "No se equivoque. Yo soy the primero mas duro este pais. You think because you made the familia a couple of million dollars that you are some big shot? You're strongly mistaken."

(Don't make a mistake. Don't make a mistake. I am the first and most powerful in this country.)

Blood trickles down my wrist as I lay my head back, trying to stop the severe bleeding. It's never-ending with him. No matter what I do, it's wrong in his eyes. Why does he have to favor Gato? It's not my fault he went against the familia, and I can't turn back on my word. Once he's out, he's gone. Either I fight for what I believe is right and take the punches or give in. It's simple.

Hopefully, my bruises will heal before our wedding photos on Thursday. I would hate to taint the day with recollections of the abuse I'm enduring. Why did I have to be Asiel Morterero, the heir to the cartel organization? Papa always said I was a mistake. That I never should've been born. Why couldn't they have given me away? 

Would my life be any better?

"En mi casa mando yo," he seethes, spitting into my eyes. "Bring Gato back or els-."

(In my house, I say what goes.)

"Or else what?" My chest rises and falls, my heart pounding on the walls of my ribcage. "You're going to hit me again? Go ahead." I ascend from the couch, staring down at my papa. "Then I can have an excuse to go down to your level. You don't run this familia anymore. It's mine now."

Papa explodes into maniacal laughter, his body jerking up and down in his seat. He has wasted enough of time as is. Ignoring him, I trek to the door and reach for the handle. A bullet whirls past me like a shooting star in the sky, almost grazing my hand. The music is loud enough to block out the trigger.

"Come. Back. Here."

I harshly cling onto the door knob enough for my knuckles to turn white from the force. What's the worse thing that can happen if I open the door? He wouldn't shoot me dead. I'm his son, after all. Besides, it will taint the familia's name once again. My Papa's grandest fault is his ego and pride.

He wouldn't risk it.

Slowly, I twist the knob, only to see another bullet strike the wall.

"Come back, or I'll put a bullet right in your pretty little fiance's face," he growls, and my stomach sinks to the floor. "Don't test me, hijo. We both know I can't kill you, but that doesn't mean I won't make you suffer. Maybe I'll buy her first and fuck her in spite of you."

The hair on the back of my neck stands up from that statement. My abdomen spirals with anxious knots. A growl rumbles in the back of my throat as I rest my forehead against the door, closing my eyes. I was willing to risk myself, but not Mika. She's the only thing I'll do anything to keep. He knows it. Like I know his greatest weakness, he knows mine.

A beat of silence stretches before I remove my hands from around the knob.

"That's what I thought," he chuckles. "Come sit."

My face remains stern as I give him what he wants by sitting on the couch. "It's pointless. I'm not going to admit Gato back into the familia. Stop wasting both of our time."

The side of his lips curls to a half-smile. "Really? All I really need to do is threaten Mika, and you will listen like a perra. Pathetic excuse of a leader. Sometimes I ask God, why are you the son-- he sent to me? You are done! Your reign is through."

My eyes widen. "What?"

His wrinkly face hardens. "You heard me. You are done being Jefe. I cannot let you fuck up this familia any further. It's been long overdue. I'm disowning you and putting Gato in your place. He is someone I can trust to carry the familia's name."

A different type of pain burst through me. It's what I always wanted, but now that it's happening, I'm crumbling with fear. How can he do this to me? I've done everything I can to be an honorable, righteous leader. I threw my fucking morals out the window for this position! How am I supposed to let him take it away from me?

"You can't do this." My jaw flexes. "This is my familia. I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into fixing our reputation, and this is what I get as repayment. Your words weigh nothing anymore. I am the Jefe."

Like a cartoon villain, he erupts into laughter and claps his hands like a fucking seal. "You're commanding Jefe. The placeholder until I get better, and I feel splendid. I'm tired of the pussy shit. You made the Morterero name weak-- Gato and I will have the underground fear us. Enjoy your last week as Jefe."

Anger and animosity rush through my veins, compelling me to pounce forward and grab the pistol. My papa fights against my strength, but being younger sure gives you the benefit of the doubt, and I whack his nose with the barrel. The force knocks the wind out of my papa, and I am standing in front of him, aligning the gun to his chest.

"What happens if I kill you first?"

He shrugs, crossing his hands over his lap. "I doubt you have the balls. After all, I'm your papa, and you love me. It will take a heartless bastard to murder their papa. Think about all the opportunities I gave you."

Tears threaten to tumble as my lips tremble with furious rage. "You didn't give me shit! All you did was try to change me, and I'm done varying myself for your approval when I know I won't ever get it. You're supposed to love me and care for me, but all you did was criticize me!"

Papa arches his eyebrow. "Love you? That's a woman's job." He scoffs, his face calm. "It's my job to raise you as my soldier. You are supposed to think, act, and talk like me! Do you understand how frustrating it is to have a son that suffers from attacks and doodles for fun? I should've put a bullet through your mama's skull when she was pregnant with you. Then I would've saved myself some years of torture."

My jaw clenches as my grip shakes, causing the barrel of the pistol to rotate around every part of his body. A vein throbs in my temple as my eyes close, tears coursing down my cheeks. Why am I such a baby? Crying over something I knew my whole damn life. Fuck. I'm still the same. Useless. Even with three kills under my belt, I can't do anything but fucking cry.

Papa's demeanor relaxes as he watches me with amusement glimmering in his irises. "Do yourself a favor and shoot a bullet through your own skull. Seriously. You wouldn't want to drag Mika down with you, do you?"

Using my sleeve, I wipe the tears falling down my cheeks and unload the gun, dropping the bullets into my palm. Once emptied, I hurl the pistol at my papa, striking him in the mouth. I don't wait for any more of his comments and storm out of the room. I can't see Mika like this.

Running like a nervous schoolboy hiding from his crush, I stumble into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. Gripping onto the sink, I heave in and out, crystal tears pitter-patting against the sink. Why does the validation hurt more than assuming it? Why does it hurt knowing my papa wished I was dead?

Am I really that sensitive?

I exhale a ragged breath and try to gather my tidal wave of thoughts. Enough is enough. Papa's not going to win. He's not going to get the pleasure of watching my engagement party be destroyed. Lifting my head, I stare into my red-rim eyes in the mirror and the blood on my white dress shirt.

Great.

How am I supposed to go out looking like this?

Resting my blazer over the bathroom curtain hanger, I unbutton the dress shirt and drop it into the sink. Either I go out with only my blazer or try to wash this shit out. Soap is pretty useless. I will need a gallon of bleach to make it stark white again. Might as well try. I squirt seven globs of soap on the shirt and rub the material together under warm water.

Twenty minutes passed, and there's been no progress whatsoever. The blood is determined to stay in its new home. I guess the blazer is my only option. Before draping the blazer over my shoulders, I scrub the childish tears off my face and make my skin glossy and pristine. No one could tell I cried a single tear.

Good.

I don't want to think about it.

I just want to shut off my brain for a few hours.

Get lost in booze or--

No, I couldn't.

I can't fall into that pattern again.

My arms push through the sleeves, and I button the blazer to conceal my bare skin. It's not awful, but Mika is the star of the show. Everyone knows that. No one will be examining me when my goddess of fiance is on my arm. I stuff my hands into the blazer's pocket, feeling around the mess. My fingers graze against this small plastic material, squishy to the touch.

Like the snake waving an apple in front of Eve's face, I drag out a small ziplock bag of white powder. Shit. I forgot that I had left some in my pockets. After my detox, Mika scouted through every inch of my room for a hidden stash. But I had totally forgotten about this one. A familiar ache builds at the base of my neck and spreads until it envelopes my skull in a throbbing grip.

There's nothing wrong with doing heroin once in a while.

Right?

I need an escape for a few hours to walk through life as if I wasn't Asiel Morterero. The man that's about to lose everything. From riches to rags. My lips and throat are dry, aching for a taste of the euphoria sensation. I'm in control.

It's just for the night and never again.

Where's the penalty in that?

A low growl emits from my throat as I open the zip lock bag, inhaling the power and consuming the rest. The sensation hits me like a five-car crash; explosive, deliciously, wonderful. The world flips on its axis as I stare at the ceiling, visualizing talking clouds. Lights flood the room like a lighthouse twirling around.

It's alleviating.

All of a sudden, my eyes flicker to my arms with creepy, crusty bugs crawling on them. It tickles, causing me to move back and forth, laughing. Why does this feel oddly good? Can I just stay here forever?

In the unknown?

Pitch-black darkness.

Wet.

Throbbing wet. My eyes squint shut as water streams down my body, and I yell, gasping for anything. What's going on? My hand latches onto the curtains, causing the hanger to fall and hit me in the face. The pain spreads to my forehead. With one eye open, I recognize my surroundings and sit up from the bathtub.

"Jefe! Mika, he's over here!" Pacho yells, patting my face as I sway back and forth. "Jefe! We have been looking for you. Why are you in a bathtub?"

I groan, my body squeaking as I get up from the bathtub in wet clothing. "I-I don't know."

"Asiel!" Mika springs into my arms, squeezing the wetness onto her clothing. Guilt plagues my chest as I realize what I just gave up. "Did you tell him?"

Pacho shakes his head.

My blood pressure skyrockets to concerning levels. "T-Tell me what?"

Mika licks her lips, her irises filled with sorrow. "It's your father." My heart twisted into a knot. "He suffered another heart attack and was rushed to the hospital... I'm sorry, Asiel. He didn't make it."

I pause, letting her words sink in. "W-What?"

Dun dun DUNNNNNN— I would say I feel bad, but do you guys feel bad 👀? I mean for Asiel? Sure lol, but I mean his dad is a POS so DESERVED🤭🤭😝

Do you think Asiel is going to be affected by it? Are you mad at him for snorting again? I am🙂😂! If he lived do you think he would've been able to de-throne Asiel?

Guys, let's gear up. Lol. Just warning y'all. The ride is getting bumpy soon 👀🤭take what you think that means with a grain of salt 😋

Thank you for helping Mika nearly (she's like so close omgmgmmg) to 400K!!! Like my dream was to reach 500K, but the fact that's possible to reach maybe even higher ! 🙏I don't wanna jinx it tho

Either way, I appreciate all your votes, comments and I can't wait to read what you guys have to say

Love ya ❤️💜❤️❤️❤️🤍