Page 43 of These Fractured Bonds

August stood next to her. “Keep your wits about you.”

The wind blew his black hair away from his face, revealing his furrowed eyebrows. Hazel met brown before he nodded and mouthed,Go.

“I’ll be back,” she said, taking a deep breath.

“I’ll be here.”

She took her first step toward the cave; the rest came easier after that, and she found herself at the entrance in no time. She wouldn’t glance back, afraid that if she did, her resolve would break, and she would run back to August—to safety. But she stopped to listen when he spoke.

“Remember, it can’t kill you.”

She pressed forward, knowing cowardice was right on her heels. She faced the gaping maw of darkness, determined to walk out with the answer to returning home.

WarmairgreetedYarelias she stepped into her family’s living room. She dropped her bag at the entrance, kicked off her shoes, and dodged her younger brother’s toys littering the ground. She tried to sneak to her room, but her mom had already heard the door close and called out to her.

“Mija, ven ayúdame en la cocina.”

Yareli groaned, rolling her eyes, but she went to the kitchen. Being the eldest daughter meant she was always helping in the kitchen, no matter that she hated cooking. Even when she had burned the tortillas on purpose, her mom had doubled down and forced her to practice by putting her on tortilla duty for two weeks straight. After years of resistance, she had finally resigned herself to her fate.

Upon entering the kitchen, her nose was greeted by the rich smell of chocolate and the savory smell of onion and garlic.

“Stir the chocolate.”

Her mom pointed her chin at the wooden spoon in her hand, and Yareli took it. Her mouth watered at the promisedchocolate con bolillolater. There was a click, and the boisterous voices of her mom’s favorite radio hosts filled the room. The steady sound of chopping joined the noise. For a while, they existed in silent companionship, enjoying the music. When Pepe Aguilar came on, her mom started singing.

“I thought you didn’t like this song,” Yareli commented, glancing at her.

Her mom didn’t look up from the cutting board, singing off-tune. Yareli smiled. Her mom sang all the time without care forher skill, or lack thereof, because she loved it. She admired that about her mom. Just as Yareli had her own passion, except she kept it hidden, ashamed. The summer creative writing workshop application tugged at her, begging to be revealed to her mom. Stored in her backpack, it burned a mark on her back.

She paused mid-stir. It was now or never.

But her mom beat her to it. “I’m leaving your dad.”

The words dripped dread down the back of her throat. Yareli said nothing, stirring again, and any ideas about her writing workshop were discarded. Pressure built behind her eyes, making it hard to see the chocolate in front of her. She stirred faster, scraping the bottom of the pot.

“Ya no lo puedo soportar,” her mom continued, resentment making her tone bitter and short, so unlike the sweet chocolate in front of Yareli.

She stirred counter-clockwise; the disruption in the liquid’s momentum calmed her racing thoughts. She could adapt to the change, but her younger brother was in elementary school, impacting him more.

“Y Fernando?” Yareli asked.

“He’s at preschool. I’ll pick him up in half an hour.”

Yareli frowned. That didn’t make sense. She was sixteen. Fernando should be twelve years old. She tried to turn around, but her body remained in place, her arm still stirring. She attempted to yank her arm from the spoon, but it wouldn’t budge. Round and round it went. A sense of wrongness pervaded her.

“Mami,” she yelled, her voice a pitch higher than usual.

“Todo estará bien. Ya verás.” Her mom wrapped her arms around Yareli.

Yareli turned her head, horror building up in her chest as she met her mom’s stare for the first time—dark, empty sockets lay where her eyes should have been. Her face contorted in a smilethat had been carved into her skin. It bled on Yareli’s shoulder, soaking her as she struggled to free herself. The monster whispered soothing words, punctuating the end of each phrase with a cackle as if it couldn’t hold back its amusement anymore, and Yareli sobbed.

“We don’t cry in this household. Stop crying.”

It squeezed her until she could barely breathe, and she heard the distinct crack of bone. She struggled, but it had an iron grip.

A creeping black ring encroached on her vision, and her limbs lost strength. She was losing this battle. Then, at her last sharp intake of air, she saw a faint glow on her chest, shining brighter until it filled her vision with white. A loud pop went off, and cool air rushed into her lungs as she opened her eyes to a dark ceiling.

She lay on the cool, smooth ground of the cave. Tears rolled down her face, and her ribs throbbed. A voice echoed in the cavernous room.