Wrong-An Ethan Morales FanFiction

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟕

𝓘𝓼𝓪𝓫𝓮𝓵

     "I ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, Eᴛʜᴀɴ Mᴏʀᴀʟᴇs." Tʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ   during my racing competitions when I was a kid. Of course, I won every single one of them.
     Last night had been a blast with Ethan.
    The carnival. The kissing. The hanging around. The sex.
    Right now, I was sleeping peacefully while I relived the moments from last night. Especially those with Ethan and the girls.
    Until I heard a loud banging at my door.
    My heart started pounding from the fear of who it could be, because the last time someone had been in my room, I had been held at gunpoint.
     I wasn't even sure what happened with the guy. The only thing I knew is that Ethan did something about it that left him...hurt. 
    I slipped out of bed in my sleepy state and slid my feet onto the floor, running a hand through my hair as I walked towards the door slowly, preparing to take the bat from the corner of my room in case another sicko was here for me. 
     My hand rested on the doorknob for a second, my heart pumping inside my throat, ready to jump out of my mouth at this point. I closed my mind and tried to swallow the lump in my throat, before I finally reopened them and opened the door, seeing mom standing behind it.
     Anger filled her eyes, like she was getting ready to attack her prey. The prey being me.
    "Eres una perra! You went to the police to report us for child neglect, child abuse and filed for Maria's fucking custody?!" Her strong spanish accent filled the room in seconds, and my eyes zoomed in on the paper she was holding up.
     Tribunal of Los Angeles: Convocation in front of the judge on the 26/04.

     I swallowed another lump, "What did you expect?"
     "Really? Is this what the fuck we're going to play, little girl?" She yelled again, scrunching the paper into a ball and tossing it on the floor, my eyes fixed on it before they went back to hers.
     Rage started boiling at the pit of my stomach, but I kept it away for now, "I asked you a question. What did you expect from me?"
     "That you keep your mouth shut. This can make me lose my and your father's job." The woman hissed, and suddenly I didn't care anymore.
     "Now you care, bitch? Then why didn't you care thirteen years ago when I was still a fucking kid, and you and your shitty husband didn't do anything to raise me, remember?" I asked, getting in her face and starting to walk closer, while she walked backwards, "You act so mighty and shit, but I raised Maria. I raised myself. I was five," I pointed my finger to my chest, tears of hatred starting to burn behind my eyes, "Five and taking care of a one year old. Changing her diapers. Watching her first steps while the only thing I wanted was to run back into abuela's arms. Even changing her diapers was a fucking struggle, I was so short I needed to lay her down on the floor and take care of her myself, not even knowing what I was doing. You took me away from my only reason to live," I pointed to her, the tip of my nail pressing against her neck, where I could see her pulse beating, "And you live with the guilt that she'll never come back now."
     "It is not like that and you know that, we always tried taking care of you—" She started, but I cut her off just in time.
     "You call, kicking and pushing a seven year old, caring? Trying to make her cry and spitting on her face? Neglecting and scaring her? Scarring her for life?" I asked, the tears starting to race down my cheeks, and I pressed my finger harder against her throat, "You deserve everything that comes your way, including that shit. You and your fucking husband deserve this."
     I continued backing her until her back hit the railing of the stairs, and I saw a hint of fear in her eyes until it quickly disappeared and she stopped moving.
     "You're an ungrateful little brat, this is what it is. We paid for your stuff, let you have a great education, and this is how you pay us back?" She asked in return, her eyes alternating from my hand and my eyes.
     "I don't owe you anything, you cunt," I barked, pressing harder until she leaned against the very end of the railing, "Right now, I could push you off of this railing and I wouldn't regret it. Just so you could pay in hell what you did to me. What you said to me. And your husband included. Does that scare you?" I asked, a wicked grin curving at the corner of my lips as I saw a slight tremor in her lower lip, her eyes completely glued to my hand, both widened.
     "You would go to hell too, you little bitch. That cross on your neck doesn't protect you." She said through gritted teeth, her hands gripping the railing tightly.
     "Maybe you're right, but you'll burn harder. You'll feel all the pain I felt," I sobbed, my heart starting to ache, "Where were you when I won the race? Where were you when I fell in love for the first time? Where were you when I got my first period and got so scared because I didn't know what was happening? Where were you when I was threatened? Where were you when I was held at gunpoint?"
     "What?" She asked, confusion drowning her gaze when I mentioned the threat and gun part. She definitely was not waiting for that.
     "So you? You haven't lived half of what I've lived. And you fucking deserve the years of jail you'll get. You and dad," I continued, slowly taking a few steps back before I spoke again, "So tell me, mom, does it scare you? Do I scare you?"
     Not letting her respond, I went back to my room and locked the door. Once I was all alone, I pressed my back against the wooden surface and slowly sank down onto the floor, pressing my knees into my chest. Clueless of what I should do and stopping myself from doing what I was thinking about, but I gave up.
     I wiped my hands on my wrists and got up from the floor, slipping my shoes on and pulling a jacket over my shoulders, opening my window and climbing out, walking towards Ethan's house while the cold air ran through my body and made goosebumps rise in my skin.
     Last week, I had seen on the news the guy that Ethan knew.
     Terrance Warren. Arrested for the murder of Hernandez Gacy. But something was off.
     That Terrance guy was acting unphased, like he knew this was going to happen. A normal killer and person would have tried to hide the body for a long time, but the news reporter said that the body was still fresh, and that the man had been killed not long then.
     The guy had been killed the same day that Ethan appeared at my front door, crying. I knew he had something to do with it. And he wasn't alright.
     I was probably going to regret this.
     The flashbacks from my earlier conversation with mom flashed through my eyes, and I shut my eyes until I finally reached his house, knocking at the door.
     There wasn't any car here in the driveway, so his mom wasn't here and he must be doing work on his in the garage. I was right.
     He opened the door, all dirtied up in car oil and a confused expression on his face when he saw me.
     "We need to talk. Please." I breathed out, looking up into his eyes.
     "Of course, come in." He said, confused again. He opened the door wider and let me in, our eyes locking, before I broke eye contact and waited for him to close the door. He looked at me with wide doe eyes, already making me feel guilty even though I hadn't even said anything yet.
     "Ethan, all of this is wrong."
     "What is?"
     "All of this. You. Me. The report," I continued, tears starting to burn behind my eyeballs again, my hand clawing at the skin of my arm, "We met months ago, and we're already acting like we're going to get married. I'm really thankful with everything but—"
     "I don't think you understood, Isabel," He started, leaning closer, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, "You're mine. I'm not letting you go."
     "You need to, Ethan. You need to heal yourself and—"
     "But I'm perfectly fine." He whined, letting go of me.
     "Ethan, you killed a man for me. Do not expect me to think that you're alright," I started again, running both my hands over his cheeks as his nose started getting red, and I knew he was holding back tears, "You need time alone. Time for yoursel—" He cut me off again.
     Ethan gripped my hands in his and rested them against his chest, then brought his fingers into my hair and brought me closer to him as tears started falling down his face.
     Guilt continued filling my chest, and I was about to explode.
     "No, Isabel. Do not do this to me. You said you loved me last night, remember? I'll do anything to make you stay, please. Don't." He sobbed, pressing his forehead against mine.
     "I still do, Ethan. I love you, I really do. But you need time for yourself." I whispered into his face, seeing him press his eyelids harder against each other, trying to fight the tears that were coming out of his eyes.
     "Then why are you leaving? I need you, Isabel. More than I could ever imagine before. More than I could need money, or drugs, or sex, or cars. Alright, we only met six months ago, but you consume me all the time. My thoughts, everything. So don't go." He sobbed again, kissing my whole face as the tears started escaping my shut eyes.
     "Ethan, you can't..."
     "Do you want me on my knees?" He breathed out, locking his eyes on mine again. His hands tugged my hair harder, making me look straight into his darkened brown irises, "I'm gonna repeat. Do. You. Want. Me. On. My. Knees?"
     Another tear rolled down, and I had no choice but to answer the hard and most painful way, "No, Ethan. I don't want you on your knees. I want you to let me go."
     He let out another sob and let me go, wiping his nose on his sleeve and backing away, making me watch the tears that rolled down his face, my heart aching from the pain it created.
     Regret. Shame. Guilt.
     The three feelings filled my heart to rim, making me choke on my breath and my hands to continue clawing at my skin. What did I just do?
     He nodded and walked away, before saying, "The door is unlocked and open."
     My heart dropped to my stomach, drowning in its acids and aching through my whole body. He walked back into his garage, closing the door behind him before I heard the loud slam of a box of utensils on the floor, making me jump slightly and close my eyes again.
     I shouldn't be here.
     My legs moved on their own and I left his house, the fresh air now seeming heavy and unbreathable as I walked away.
     I wasn't walking home. I needed a different type of air, so without thinking further and with the tears streaming down my face, my arms draped over my chest, I started walking to where my mind had set a point.
     Probably would take me hours to reach there, but at least once I did I could just lay down and smell the amazing air that reminded me of abuela.
     Maybe I could even talk with her.
     She always said her favorite star was shiniest one.