The irony was not lost on me.
My father and his men didn’t waver, not even for one fucking second, springing into action. Each of them grabbing ahold of what appeared to be members of a loving family. My father forcefully gripped onto an older man’s shoulders, crudely ripping him away from what I assumed was his wife and young daughter. He begged for their lives and they pleaded for his, fighting to get free, reaching their flailing arms out to each other, and praying to God not to hurt him. He must have been in his late sixties, judging by his gray hair and frail appearance. There was no need for the severe assault my father was handing him. The man would have gone willingly, done anything to save his loved one’s lives.
“Por favor! Te lo ruego! No las lastimes!” he bellowed, “Please! I beg you! Don’t hurt them!” in a tone that resonated deep in my core as my father slammed his fist into the side of the man’s torso. Making him barrel over in pain.
Pedro held back the young girl who couldn’t have been any older than me, while she bellowed, “Papi! Papi! Papi! Por favor! Papi!” The tremor in her voice made me sick to my stomach.
Two of the guards stood watch by the mangled door, closest to me. Not even fazed by the vile scene unfolding in front of them, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary, just another routine night on the job. My eyes shifted to the last guard who had a death grip on the mother, holding her so fucking tight that I thought her arms were going to tear right out of her sockets. Watching her struggle against him, desperately wanting to run to her family. Both of the guards held onto the petite females like they were holding back a couple of two hundred pound men, instead of a couple of fragile women. Manhandling them on purpose, getting off on the fucked-up situation.
“Please! Let them go! It’s me you want! Please! Just let them go!” the older man pleaded relentlessly, breathing through the agony of what was happening before him. He tried to fight my father off with all the strength he could muster, clawing, shoving, whipping his body all around. Taking hit after hit my father delivered to the side of his head for each word that fell from his bloody lips. Never once silencing his pleas for their lives.
“NO! Don’t hurt him! Please! Don’t hurt my husband! We will give you whatever you want! Please don’t hurt him! Please! I beg you! Have mercy!” the older woman shrieked while endless tears streamed down her face. One right after the other with no end in sight, mirroring the exact expressions on her teenage daughter’s face.
“Te amo, Julio! Te amo con todo mi corazón!” she added, “I love you, Julio! I love you with all my heart!” Putting up one hell of a fight.
“Shut the fuck up!” Salazar roared in Spanish. “Shut them the fuck up! NOW! Enough with the theatrics!”
Wasting no time, my father dragged the man to a nearby chair and punched him in the face until he was nearly unconscious. Hanging on by a thread. Causing a trail of blood to ooze from his battered face. His head drooped forward as his body hunched over, going in and out of consciousness. No longer putting up a fight. My father then pulled zip ties from his back pocket, using them to secure the old man’s hands behind his back and his ankles to the chair legs.
The two guards, who were still holding the women captive, didn’t bother tying them up. Knowing they didn’t have to because the women were of no challenge to them. They slapped them around a few times, making their frail bodies even weaker from the force of their blows. Taking hold of their hair, pulling their heads back before placing the barrels of their guns to the sides of their temples. That was all it took to render them speechless, barely being able to hold themselves up any longer.
I swallowed hard when my blank stare found their sadistic expressions. They were showcasing their handy work. Wearing their bloody knuckles proudly.
No remorse.
No guilt.
I couldn’t stop myself from looking back at my father, the captain of Emilio Salazar’s fucking army, the man who had always taught me that women were different.
They weren’t part of the battle.
They weren’t casualties.
They weren’t prisoners of war.
Our eyes locked across the distance between us, it all made sense now. His stare telling me everything that couldn’t be spoken. His concern, his need to speak for me, his shame and remorse currently eating him alive.
They were all fucking lies.
“Damien,” Emilio called out, bringing my gaze to him.
It was the first time I ever felt like I was truly looking at him. The real him. Our fearless dictator leaned against the wall, his arms folded over his chest, one leg draped over the other. Not a hair out of place, his military fatigues intact, and a smug expression spread across his fucking face. But that’s not what had my attention. It was the fire in his eyes, burning into my soul.
He was getting off on this as much as his men were.
The power.
The control.
The fight he brought into this family’s home.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he acknowledged, nodding to me. “Things aren’t always the way they appear. I can see the judgment in your eyes, it’s radiating off your body. You dare judge me, your leader who has done nothing but turn you into a man? I made our country what it is today, and you still stand there and question me? Are you questioning your loyalty to me because of a couple of whores and an old fuck? Eh?” He pushed off the wall, placing his hands into the pockets of his pants. Slowly walking over to where my father stood with the older man who was still struggling to stay alert.
“I didn’t say a word,” I simply stated, watching his every move.
“You didn’t have to. You see, Damien, I was once like you.”
I blinked, taking in his words, still completely aware of my surroundings. How the guards kept fucking with the women, running their guns down their breasts, stomach, and thighs. Making their torn, flimsy nightgowns stick to their sweaty skin. Pressing their cocks into their asses, purposely making their terrified bodies sway against their dicks. The only sounds that could be heard were their low, subtle whimpers, knowing they probably would not make it out of here alive. The men who were standing guard by the doors just waiting for their fucking turns.
I played my part, acting as if I didn’t notice the invasive acts. Giving the monster standing in front of me exactly what he craved.
Respect.
“I wanted to protect my country, I wanted freedom for all my people, I wanted a life where everyone was equal. I—”