FuelOne moment, Mitch, too, wanted to cry at Hector’s words, at the hope in María’s body.
But then he felt something weird: it was as if time was folding onto itself, like a thousand moments of María crying in various places. How she felt all that grief, all that pain, all that anger portion by portion, pounding mattresses and screaming her heart out, painting her soul on canvas. Repeating over and over again how much she hated the gang members, how much she hated Marco for leaving her.
How she much wished none of that would have happened. Overall, he saw her vent her pain. And it hurt. It really hurt.
The details blurred together, and Mitch had to wonder how masochistic María must be that she went there over and over again – instead of just locking everything up inside her, just ignori
