Page 7 of Violent Attraction

She went to the fabric store because I wanted to go and now, she’s dead.

I could have been with her while it happened. I could have been there to hold her hand in her final moments. I could have been the one to take whatever killed her. I should have gone with her to get the fabric and then maybe I would still have my mother here with me. Maybe if I had gone with her, my father wouldn’t be looking at me like I were to blame.

Maybe I am to blame.

“Isabella?” I hear my name, and turning I see Santiago standing a few feet away. Hands in his pockets, his head slightly down, looking at me with concern. “Are you okay?”

Am I?

My mother is dead and there is nothing that I can do to change that.

I shake my head.

When it comes to Santiago, I have always been truthful, no point in not being so now.

Santiago comes over to where I’m sitting on my bed and hesitates for a second before he sits next to me and wraps an arm around my shoulders.

The only other person that has done this in the last few days has been Leo, and when he does it, it doesn't feel like enough.

I don’t know if it's the added affection but whatever it is, it makes me burst into tears.

Wrapping my arms around Santiago, I bower into him and cry the pain of losing my mother away.

“It's okay, Isabella. It will be okay. I will always be here for you.”

I continue to cry.

I really hope that he is telling the truth.

3

14 years old

I’ve never experienced anyone close to me die. My parents have talked to me about it and how unpredictable it can be, but I have never experienced it firsthand.

Not until Rosa Maria Morales.

She was like a second mother to me and when I heard that she died, no that she was killed, I felt something in me break.

Whatever it was, broke even more when I saw how much her death affected the Morales kids. Leo blamed his father, Camila was too young to grasp what was going on, but it was Isabella who was the one that broke me the most.

She was supposed to go with her mother that day, but instead she stayed behind to play catch with Leo and me. I didn’t have to ask her to know that she blamed herself for her mother no longer being here. You can see it in her eyes and how detached she is with everything.

Isabella may only be twelve but she feels strongly, and the death of her mother shattered her.

And for some reason, I feel compelled to help her through the pain.

Don’t ask me why, I just do.

That’s why I’m currently standing outside her bedroom door with a bag. A bag that I hope will bring her some sort of happiness and not sadness.

Hope. I have to hope that’s her reaction.

I take a deep breath and knock on the giant wooden door in front of me.

She’s twelve, why are you nervous?

Because I don’t want to make the situation worse than what it already is.