Iwas numb.

As though the gray of the walls had infected us with something.

Inside was a shitshow. We headed toward the exit. None of us had got off scot-free, but we weren’t too bruised up either. I was being shoved, swept away. I felt a hand on my waist. It was the old man. I didn’t need to look to know it was him. Insults reached me like a dog’s barking.

“This doesn’t end here, motherfuckers!” screamed the skinheads we’d left behind.

Their voices wanted to pummel us. But they didn’t follow. They stuck with Ale Skin.

I’m not sure how I knew that Ale Skin wouldn’t make it out this time. No matter what they did, Ale Skin was as dead as Hernán.

I couldn’t speak. Walter kept yelling and all I wanted was for him to shut up. For everybody to shut up and leave me alone with my brother. As always.

At some point, my old man let me go and stood there.

“We’ll see each other again,” Walter said.

Our old man said nothing, but relief shone in his eyes.

Twice I’d seen my old man kill.