When Gracie Met The Grump

by Mariana Zapata

It was over. It was all over, just like that. This was how my life ended.

All I’d ever wanted was to be loved, to have someone know me for me. To have more than just my grandparents, as ungrateful as that sounded.

Then later on, I had wanted a partner in life.

I could have settled for one real friend that I could tell everything to. Just one. I didn’t need a girl gang or a squad. I wanted one person to share this burden with. That wasn’t too much, was it? A few more tears fell down my cheeks.

How was it possible that life could be this fucking unfair? What had I ever done except been born to the wrong people? I hadn’t asked for any of this. It was fucking bullshit. All of it. All of this. Steaming bullshit.

“You heard me. What are you going to do? Kill me?” I asked before chuckling; it sounded as hollow and defeated as I felt. “Get in line. I’m dead in here anyway. You might as well finish the job and make it quick.” It would be better that way. It’d be less painful, I’d bet. Dying at The Defender’s hand.

“Stop talking,” he growled so fiercely I probably would have started shaking days ago, but right then, I didn’t care. Not a little bit. Not any bit. So this was what defeat felt like, huh? I was Fucked. With a capital F.

“For the record, I never wanted to drag you into this. It’s why I kept asking you if you wanted to go somewhere else. I begged them to leave you alone.” Not that it had done shit. I was here after all.

There were so many things I still wanted to do. Things I felt like I’d been robbed of. Things that felt even more precious now that I understood the situation we were in.

I’m sorry, Grandma and Grandpa. I’m so, so sorry.

I squeezed my hands into fists. But I really liked my tongue and fingers. Maybe I wasn’t going to be keeping my shit together.

Give up. Oh, I wanted to cry at the unfairness of all this shit. What had I ever done to deserve this?

There was a beat of silence as he probably realized how close I was to having a meltdown. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been able to smell it.

I was such a stubborn fucking idiot. I was going to be tortured one way or the other. I wanted to laugh so I wouldn’t cry.

“This whole situation is just… wow. Literally, wow. I must have done something really fucked up in another lifetime for things to end up like this.” Oh boy. “I wonder if it was in the same lifetime that I did something to you.”

Why hadn’t he tried to run? Or broken their backs? I was pretty sure if he’d really put his mind to it, he could have gotten away, or at least gotten some distance from the house so they couldn’t find him.

But I guess I understood what he wasn’t saying. He still wasn’t healing enough. We were screwed. At least it sure seemed that way.

I had to try to get through this. If I couldn’t, if I didn’t, that would be one thing. At least I’d tried. At least I could look my grandpa and grandma in the eye when I saw them again. That was what they’d want.

I had to do this. For them.

my trusty gut—when I listened to it—had never steered me wrong. It was time I stopped ignoring it.

No. No. They’d burned the trailer down? All my things?

There weren’t a ton of them, but they were mine, and each one mattered. My past and my present.

I wanted to ask if he was sure, but of course he fucking was. He was sarcastic, bossy, and secretive, but he didn’t hide being all those things. ...

This was all because I hadn’t fucking left when I should have.

Tears gushed over my fingers. My home was gone. Everything was fucking gone.

“Why are you crying?” the deep voice demanded from beyond my knees. “The house was small and smelled funny.” I cried. I cried harder than I’d thought I was capable of.

“I lost everything,” I told him, my voice cracking. I mopped at my face with my wrist before even more came out. Losing my grandparents’ things hurt worse than my own. My grandma’...

“Materialistic belongings don’t mean anything.” I swallowed so, so hard. He tried a different angle. “Could you… quit crying?”

“Anyone ever told you… that you cry ugly?” he fucking asked.

This was harder than I’d thought, and really, I was getting more and more pissed by the fucking second. Not just at him but at everything.

“And you’re ugly when you cry.” Whether it was my words or tone or both, that got him to shut up. It wasn’t my best comeback. I was rusty. I hadn’t talked shit back to anyone since my Xbox days, and I really had tried so hard to be nice to him. But I didn’t care anymore.

My life was fucking over, I thought sometime later. But I guess it had been over since the day my parents had done the stupidest shit possible.

If it was going to be a sacrifice, at least it was an honorable one. It would fucking suck, but it could be worse. Right?

I hoped that every single person who had been at my house got hemorrhoids. Internal and external ones. If anything happened to me, I was going to come back from the dead and poltergeist every single one of their asses. None of them were ever going to have sex again if I had anything to say about it. They were never going to have a full night’s rest either.

That would be my new purpose—haunting. I was going to find every person in the cartel and haunt them and their families. Maybe throw some things around. Pull on some feet from under the bed.

“Are you done… throwing a tantrum?” came the deep voice from its spot across the room. He hadn’t moved an inch since pretty much telling me that everything I knew was gone now.

“Yeah, you were. All that crying… and sniffling?” He made a dismissive sound. “Disgusting.”

Things like… things I couldn’t control. Things like never having a real boyfriend, never having sex. Never leaving the country. Never doing a million other things I had hoped would be in my future.

And I only felt a small, itty-bitty thrill when his eyebrows dropped right before he leaned out of the way and the tie hit the spot where his head had just been.

Holy shit. He was on his hands and knees over my body, his fingers loose over my wrists. His calves pressed alongside the outside of my lower legs, careful to keep his weight off me.

I squeaked as his head dipped, those flaming purple eyes lighting up for one brief moment brighter than ever, his nostrils flaring wide as he growled, “What in the fuck are you doing?”

I squeaked. “It was just a hair tie.” Plus, he was bulletproo...

His head tilted to the side, giving me a view of dark, wide pupils and honestly… honestly… I almost felt scared for a split second. He looked like a crazy person. And I understood then better than ever why crime had gone down. I wouldn’t want to face this either.

I stared. Someone had thrown things at him? How stupid could you be? I wasn’t going to count myself. I’d known what I was doing.

Maybe this had been my destiny all along—to get to this point with a savior of mankind and lose my life to him.

But I was fed up with him and his bad attitude, his ungratefulness, and mostly him just being mean to me for no reason. So I couldn’t help but try and growl right back at him just like he’d done to m...

Everyone knows how fast you are, even if you are… you know.” He knew. Probably not the best idea to bring up his injuries, but I didn’t have the patience or energy to tiptoe around him anymore.

I’d tried to be nice to him. I’d sucked up all his comments, bitchy faces, and overall rudeness. But I was done with it. It was too hard. It was too much. I respected him, but that didn’t mean I liked him.

I glared right back, not about to apologize anymore.

He stared me right in the damn eye as he said, “I was in pain before. Everything makes sense now.” What made sense?