Sergio

'Let's see, this one says...'

'Amy, I told you to stop reading those'.

'I hope to one day defecate on your fascists grave you... murderer', Amy continued. Legs thrown over my couch, she decided that she was helping me read my unopened hate mail, selectively censoring herself if she thought I'd be too sensitive to the words.

Acting unbothered by all of it, I continued making breakfast.

'Next! This one says... from me and my children, fuck you Mr misogynist, white supremacist bigot, no love, Tammy'.

'I don't know why you find reading my hate letters entertaining –'

'Ooop – and this one says...'picking up the tenth letter, Amy froze, then glanced at me, 'erm... I'll skip this one. Next!'

'Okay enough!'

'So you are bothered by it?!' Amy snapped, trying to prove her point, 'just say it. No need to pretend'.

'Yes! I'm bothered because you're disturbing my peace', I replied. Truly, it wasn't her fault. I was bothered by all of it.

Only after months, my phone stopped blowing up with messages from everyone in the police department and mob spammers. Faster than wildfire, the news of my exoneration ignited the internet terrets, only causing more street riots and internet drama.

For my sanity, I read into none of them.

During all that time, Amy lived in my house. Just like she had nowhere else to go, I had nowhere to go. Occasionally, travellers on the street recognised who I was because of the news.

Of course, I had to lay down ground rules. Amy had to complete all her schoolwork from home if she wasn't planning to hide out for the rest of the term, while I figured out how to get her back to normal life, out of my house.

Sometimes, we played chess. At other times, videogames. Other times, cards. Neither of us were in touch with the outside world.

This unprecedented quality time we were forced to spend with each other, made me understand her a bit more.

We were alike, in a parallel way. At a young age, Amy's parent's left her, so she was groomed by a criminal organization who wanted to disguise her as a normal girl for as long as possible for their gain.

Unlike me, she had evaded the foster system at least. Being a thief was all she knew.

'Be serious. I'm not buying all this – junk', I complained. Gas station shopping. No fun at all.

'It's not junk!' she defended her beef jerky, frozen burgers, donuts, popcorn... candy, 'it's soul food'.

'It's junk'. Since it wasn't her money buying anything, she felt privileged to fulfil her heart's desires with my money, trancing along with the basket like Alice in wonderland. Hands in my pockets, I simply followed.

Most times, I never conceded to buying her basket full of cavities, but she never stopped begging.

Leaving the store, we noticed two young men graffitiing my car with their spray cans. Before they noticed us, half my car was completely sprayed with the words, "I am a pig".

'Hey!' Amy yelled before I did. With smirks on their face, the boys looked up, one holding his phone camera at us. 'What do you think you're doing, assholes?!' she cried, walking up to them fast.

Using levitation, she snatched the spray bottles from their hands, and let them float in the air. Simultaneously, the boys received the shock of their lives. Then Amy flipped the cans to spray their bulging eyes.

They screamed.

'Amy!' I yelled. Helplessly blind, the boys fell to the ground then got back up running away in two separate directions, bumping into all kinds of things.

After dropping our shopping in the back, I got in the driver's seat, the side half blocked by their graffiti. Weary of it all, I leaned on the wheel, trying very hard not to get angry. Boiling inwardly, I breathed with a heavy heart.

'Hey man... you okay?' Amy asked. Only for her sake, I didn't overreact.

'I'm fine', then I started the car, trying to see the road through Amy's side, 'it is what it is'.

'I don't think anyone wants to see you live free, since... you know', Amy bowed her head, gazing out the window '... being exonerated'.

'From a crime I didn't even commit', I grumbled below my voice'.

'You're right. You know, this is all Selena's fault', Amy contested. I fell silent. I shouldn't have said that. Michael and Sniper were missing from the equation where I became the scapegoat for the murder.

'Selena didn't put me in prison'.

'Yeah – she did. She's the real murderer', Amy refuted, shaking her head and scoffing, 'even after all this you still defend her?!'

'Amy –'

'I mean, for someone who was actually blood-related to Cleo, you don't even show an ounce of care'.

'That's not true. It's just, I didn't even know her, not like you did –'

'What's up with that anyway? Were you even related?'

'She wrote to me, before she died...' I flashed back to my mother's fabric wrapped around the stuffed pony, '... she was my stepsister'.

For a few minutes, the car fell silent again.

'You know... she had secret photos of you on her phone...' Amy admitted, 'no wonder she was so weird about it'. I imagined the photographs of me found on Cleo's phone were pieces of evidence that strengthened the case Sniper had against me. 'I still don't get it'.

'What don't you get?' I asked.

'How you had the same biological mom'.

'We did'.

'Well', Amy scoffed, 'either Cleo turned out too dark, or you turned out too... white'.

'Did Cleo ever describe what our mother looked like to you?' I asked.

'Yeah', Amy confirmed, 'it didn't sound like your mom was the type that looked – like you'.

The next day, I met Morello at a rundown Texan bar, the place we always met when we were broke cops. Naturally, I wasn't so keen on being seen in public, but since he insisted, I gave in.

'But it's been a year. You wanna live like a hermit forever?' Morello contested, taking a sip from his large beer cup. 'I mean, I get it. It's crazy what went down, but... we kinda miss you'.

'Thanks Morello'.

'And trust me, we all understand what happened', he patted my shoulder, 'they wanted a scapegoat'.

'It was far more than that', I mumbled quietly. In that moment, a familiar man entered the bar. Blonde, short hair, trench coat, and in uniform... 'hey!' as if I'd seen a ghost, I straightened up.

'Sergio? You okay?' Morello asked.

'Erm, yeah...' I lied, not okay. It was a particular prison guard who helped torture me while I was incarcerated. Even worse, he was the man that made it possible, providing Trepp's men with the razors, burners, and the prison locations. I remembered his grin, his cigar. 'Excuse me, I have to leave'.

'What? Already?' Morello mumbled, misunderstanding, 'we haven't even started the conversation'.

'Sorry –' the only way to exit was to walk past him, and while I did, I thought my heart would beat out of my chest. With every beat, I had a flashback to his face grinning at me... while I was being tormented.

'Sergio', Morello yelled, running after me. After walking hastily on the main path for about ten meters, I turned left to hide behind my car. Whatever this was, it felt like a heart attack. 'Sergio', Finally out of breath, Morello found me.

That evening, he offered to drive instead of me, as my constant shivers disqualified me.

We arrived just to find Amy dancing with headphones in the kitchen and making pancakes.

'Oh!' she turned around, shocked, 'donut cop! What's good?' Donut was Amy's nickname for him. Kai was hotdog. Obviously, he didn't like it. Morello turned to look at me.

'Don't ask', I mumbled back. We walked back to the hallway. 'Thanks... for driving me'.

'Sergio', his tone was stern, 'do you wanna tell me what the heck is going on?'

'I, I erm –' as I begun, the door knocked, 'I'll get it'. I opened up.

'Hey', it was Selena.

'Hi'. In her hand was the baby seat.

'Eyy Selena!' Morello greeted with his typical energy.

'Oh, you're here too, Morello?' Selena uttered, seemingly disappointed.

'It's kinda like the whole gang is back together', he chuckled.

'Is this... her?' I stooped down, 'my daughter?' there she was. On my doorstep.

'I thought you wanted to see her', Selena beamed, a big smile on her face.

Layla. Beautiful. Everything about her forced the joy and happiness into me that had been missing forever. All of her small fingers grabbed my thumb, which she examined curiously.

A year since she was born, it was the first time I'd seen her. My very creation of a creature formed in my image. Mesmerized by her big, watery eyes gave me an elation I could not describe. We moved her into the living room.

'Wait, so...' Morello didn't take long to put two and two together, 'you – and you', he pointed at me, then at Selena, 'that's your baby?' I nodded, 'doesn't anyone at the department know –'

'No!' Selena and I replied simultaneously.

'Oh – kay...' already having enough puzzles to figure out, Morello's face looked electrified.

'Morello...' I sighed, 'sorry you had to find out this way. There's a lot of things I should've told you before now. I... don't know where to begin'.

'Maybe from why the heck you stormed out the bar as soon as – that man walked in', Morello snapped. Looking at Amy, who was still listening to loud music not noticing anyone, then at Selena, Morello tried to find a nice way to summarize this mess, 'then we'll get to all... the background stuff'.

'What man?' Selena repeated, attentive.

'It – was just...' I didn't want to stop throwing Layla in the air and making her laugh, 'I recognised someone from the city prison'.

'What happened Morello?' by now, Selena didn't trust me to explain.

'He had a panic attack after he left', Morello blurted out.

'I'm fine now', I inserted.

'Sergio', Selena addressed me sternly, 'who was he?'

'No one you need to worry about'.

'Sergio!' Selena squirmed.

Finally noticing our extended group huddle, Amy turned around, removing an earpiece.

'What-what's this?' When she cut eyes at Selena, it was clear Amy wasn't happy about Selena's presence.