06-04-2025, 07:52 PM
Marta felt the fear recede, not at his words, but at his scent. It remained certain, sincere. No, Matías wasn’t with the cartels, and if he had been part of the Amengual cartel, he no longer was. He wasn’t some Nuevo León spy. He was just a man - praying to God - for her.
”I believe you,” Marta said, wiping her eyes, voice still trembling slightly. ”I’d know if you were lying.”
Marta listened as he spoke, his voice quiet, cognizant of the priest who was now checking on them. He’d likely heard her episode. She didn’t care that he was there. Matias would have to be more careful than she was, but she would have his back should the priest think anything untoward was happening.
Matías words rang a bell. Strength and ferocity. He saw that in her. It was something she needed to hear. That her survival had made her strong. She wished it hadn’t been that way, but it had. She had been dealt a terrible hand, but was still in the game.
”Her name is Splash,” she said, giving a slight emphasis on the pronoun. An innocent correction. ”And she’s the goodest girl ever,” Marta spoke quietly and with a joking smile.
Marta looked at Splash too and the wolf lay back down on the floor, sufficiently pleased with herself. What a weirdo. Marta scratched her head.
”I don’t just pray for my friend. I also pray for guidance,” her hands dropped from her forearms. The words were coming out of her. She had prayed for guidance, and she was beginning to feel like her prayed had been heard - for no other reason than Matías sincere scent. ”Nuevo Leon took so much from me. Most of it cannot be returned. A survivor yes, but a victim still. I don’t think the scars will ever fully heal. I don’t find myself afraid as much anymore. When I look there - it’s mostly anger. That’s okay right? To be angry? He got angry.
Marta paused, looking at the crucifix again. Her tone didn't ask for pity. She didn’t want pity, and Matías had offered none. Instead her words rang with complete honesty. Her fears laid bare. She remained quiet, contemplating whether or not she should say more. Then the word came to her unbidden.
Faith
”Fear for what they did to me. Anger because they’re still doing it. Strong and fierce, maybe. But not strong enough. What can a thirteen year old girl do against the might of the cartels when she feels so strongly she has to do something… he voice trailed off. Her next words were quieter. ”Because no one else will.”
”I believe you,” Marta said, wiping her eyes, voice still trembling slightly. ”I’d know if you were lying.”
Marta listened as he spoke, his voice quiet, cognizant of the priest who was now checking on them. He’d likely heard her episode. She didn’t care that he was there. Matias would have to be more careful than she was, but she would have his back should the priest think anything untoward was happening.
Matías words rang a bell. Strength and ferocity. He saw that in her. It was something she needed to hear. That her survival had made her strong. She wished it hadn’t been that way, but it had. She had been dealt a terrible hand, but was still in the game.
”Her name is Splash,” she said, giving a slight emphasis on the pronoun. An innocent correction. ”And she’s the goodest girl ever,” Marta spoke quietly and with a joking smile.
Marta looked at Splash too and the wolf lay back down on the floor, sufficiently pleased with herself. What a weirdo. Marta scratched her head.
”I don’t just pray for my friend. I also pray for guidance,” her hands dropped from her forearms. The words were coming out of her. She had prayed for guidance, and she was beginning to feel like her prayed had been heard - for no other reason than Matías sincere scent. ”Nuevo Leon took so much from me. Most of it cannot be returned. A survivor yes, but a victim still. I don’t think the scars will ever fully heal. I don’t find myself afraid as much anymore. When I look there - it’s mostly anger. That’s okay right? To be angry? He got angry.
Marta paused, looking at the crucifix again. Her tone didn't ask for pity. She didn’t want pity, and Matías had offered none. Instead her words rang with complete honesty. Her fears laid bare. She remained quiet, contemplating whether or not she should say more. Then the word came to her unbidden.
Faith
”Fear for what they did to me. Anger because they’re still doing it. Strong and fierce, maybe. But not strong enough. What can a thirteen year old girl do against the might of the cartels when she feels so strongly she has to do something… he voice trailed off. Her next words were quieter. ”Because no one else will.”