Since then, Damien was a pillar in my life. He provided me with a safe and affectionate home, with a loving woman who was now like a mother to me. Rosarío always made me feel wanted and cared for as if I was her real daughter. From the moment I stepped foot into her house, she loved me. Always being there to comfort me when I needed to talk about my feelings or just cry. Which was typically over a big bowl of ice cream to drown my sorrows. She was adamant that food made everything better.
Both of them would make me laugh and smile on a daily basis. Giving me hope when all I had was despair. They were the only two people I had left in this world. They meant everything to me. As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, and the months turned into years, I realized what Rosarío had told me the night we first spoke, couldn’t have been more accurate. They were my family now. They truly were the best thing that could have happened to me, after losing my own.
Damien would spend the night at Rosarío’s often, instead of going back to his apartment. Somehow knowing I’d need to see a familiar face in the middle of the night, when my dreams turned into nightmares. He’d lay with me, playing with my hair or rubbing my back until I fell asleep again. Sometimes he couldn’t be here though, off fulfilling his obligations to the monster. On those nights, Rosarío would take his place, warming me up a glass of milk as I tried to shake off the emotions that my bad dreams usually evoked. Neither of them ever made me feel bad about disturbing their sleep, though.
I hadn’t seen or heard from Emilio Salazar or any of his men since the night he murdered my entire family. Damien made sure to cover all the tracks, going as far as telling Rosarío’s neighbors and friends that I was her niece. Later in private, letting them know that my parents had unexpectedly died in a fire and she was now my guardian. Wanting to prevent any emotions the truth may invoke in me. I don’t know how Damien did it, but within the first few weeks he was able to provide me with a whole new identity. The only part of my past that remained the same was my name.
Amira.
He said it was the one thing he couldn’t take away from me. As far as Emilio and his men knew, I burned in the fire right alongside my family that night, and I guess in a way, I had. Damien didn’t just save me, he gave me a whole new life. One I would’ve never had the chance to live before. I had the best tutors and an education most people dreamed of, learning subjects I didn’t even know existed. I also had the nicest clothes, from dresses, to pants, to blouses and t-shirts. It was endless. Damien never allowed me to want for anything. Neither did Rosarío.
“Amira, I’m going to walk over to Carmen’s for a bit. She needs help with her torticas de moron,” Rosarío shouted from the kitchen. “Please go get cleaned up! Oh, and check on dinner while I’m gone!”
“I will, Mama Rosa! I promise!” I yelled back as the side door shut behind her.
It didn’t take long after she left for Damien to pull into the driveway. I smiled, big and wide as he parked his car next to Rosarío’s, turned off the engine, and grabbed something from his passenger seat. Instinctively knowing it was probably something for me. I watched as he stepped out onto the pavement with a new doll firmly in his grasp, silently giggling to myself, I was right. He started bringing me gifts the day after I innocently shared that my papi use to do the same when he was away for work. Damien hadn’t realized I was thirteen and getting a little too old for dolls. But I would never tell him that.
The sentiment behind his reasoning being too important to him.
He leaned against the hood of his car, looking down at the ground, as if he needed a minute to gather himself before coming into the house. His long, curly hair hid his deep-set hazel eyes that always held so much emotion behind them. Over the years I’d grown to read what he was thinking, feeling, expressing all at first glance. He closed his eyes, shaking his head, and pushed off the car to walk toward the front door.
I would be lying if I said it didn’t seem like there were two sides to Damien. The man he was with us, and someone else entirely when he wasn’t. His personality was extremely somber and serious most of the time. Probably stemming from being a soldier and being raised by one too. His whole demeanor screamed military man, even the way he walked was stocky and abrasive.
Damien didn’t like to be teased, as harmless as it may be. He could do the teasing, but the second you turned it around on him, it was a different story. He’d get all butt-hurt about it, which only provoked me to do it more. I would mimic his stride when I knew he was watching me, just to make him laugh. I’d stand tall with my arms straight at my sides and a stern look on my face.
He’d try not to laugh until I would imitate his deep voice, saying random things like, “Hi, my name is Damien and I walk around like there’s a stick up my butt. I have no sense of humor. And all I want is for Amira to study, so she has the best education and grows up to be the smartest woman in the world. But she’s already smarter than I am, I just haven’t admitted it out loud yet.”
My teasing usually ended with him tickling me to the floor. Always using the fact that he was much bigger than me to his advantage. I’d call him a bully, and he’d call me a brat.
Rosarío would always reprimand me for acting silly and making fun of Damien, but I could see it in her eyes; she actually enjoyed seeing him laugh or smile because of my antics. Only confirming what I knew all along without me ever having to ask her. She’d been waiting all his life for someone besides her to care about him enough, to know there was more to him hidden beneath the fatigues, or what he thought he needed to be.
Whatever that was.
I jolted when I heard the front door slam a little harder than usual. Immediately looking down at the dictionary in my lap. Damien wanted me to be multi-lingual just like him. I was learning English, French, Portuguese, Italian, and Spanish. I thought I spoke Spanish correctly, so when Damien politely said it wasn’t the proper or educated way of speaking, I was a little embarrassed. I knew he wasn’t trying to hurt my feelings, he was aware the school I attended in El Campo wasn’t anywhere near as skilled as the tutor he hired for me. Charo was one of the most elite in Santiago—a sweet, older woman who reminded me a lot of Rosarío. Her hair was always pulled back in a bun, smelling like fresh baked goods. She studied in a European boarding school. A place where nuns lived, a monastery is what she called it.