Red Moon by EL Suárez at Inkitt

My Old Life

I woke up at 5:45 to my alarm. No snoring, so Agus wasn’t home. I stepped out of my room — the other bedroom door was closed. Tín. He was here. Ever since my father passed away eight months ago, I’ve devoted all my time to working and taking care of my brothers. For them, I’d do anything. My little brother is finishing high school this year, and we always spoiled him rotten. The middle one is a total genius kid, and I always tell him that whatever he does, he should never give up on school.

Mom was Latina and Dad was English. We live in South America, but Dad taught us English from a young age. We each have a name in Spanish and one in English. My father, Richard Alistair Williams, cut off all ties with his family in England, and after Mom passed, we lost contact with her family too — they never really liked Dad. So now it’s just my brothers and me, and honestly, it’s hard.

It all started one day when a letter arrived at the house. I should have guessed that a letter in 2016 was unusual. It was from a certain Mrs. Eleanor Jager, an aunt of Dad’s. She said she’d heard about “our rebellious Richard” and knew I was now alone with my brothers — she was dying to meet us. She invited us to visit her in England. Even though Dad cut ties with his family by his own choice, he did mention “Aunt Ellie” to me once or twice.

Agus, my middle brother, hadn’t come home. I could tell because his backpack wasn’t tossed half-open on the couch. Not exactly news — he’s 23, he can live his life — but it’s still annoying. I worry about the idiot. I know he’s probably in someone else’s bed after a great night, but he has responsibilities in this house too.

To Agus 6:03Let me know when you get home

Andrew Agustín Williams is my middle brother — not the most responsible person, always sneaking off whenever he can to hook up with someone. I’ve never seen him fall in love or genuinely interested in anyone, but I know that in his own weird way, he’s capable of love, because he loves Tintín and me.

I went to wake up my little brother: Tintín. Thomas Valentín “Tintín” Williams, 17 years old, our baby. I’m his legal guardian — incredibly hard at 25 — but Agus helps, kind of, mostly with money.

“Come on, Tín, get up.” I started opening the blinds. “You know you can’t be late.”

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled like a little kid, rolling over in bed.

“No, Tín. Don’t make my life harder than it already is.”

I pulled off the covers.

My brothers share a room. It’s a big one, with a really good computer Agus uses for work. There are anime and video game figurines everywhere, along with football posters, superhero posters, and more anime. I’ve watched a ton of superhero movies and anime just to have something in common with them — I’ve even played video games, though I’m terrible at them and don’t really enjoy it. Actually, neither Agus nor I are big football fans. Going to the stadium was something Dad and Tín always did together, but now Agustín has had to tag along so Tín doesn’t go alone. Dad was a Peñarol fan, and so is my little football-obsessed brother, obviously. My other brother calls their fans“a bunch of lowlifes, thugs, and degenerates.”And yet, he’s already been to the Campeón del Siglo stadium several times and they’re going to Tony’s farewell match. I’d never say it out loud, but I think he’s actually started to warm up to the team, because it’s brought him closer to his brother.

The stuff in their room is messy — you can tell it’s lived in — but lately I don’t feel any life when I walk in.

Things have been complicated since Dad. Luckily, Agustín got a remote job doing programming stuff I don’t really understand, but he gets paid in dollars. I have a regular job at a call center — nine hours a day, five days a week — and I earn just a little over minimum wage, but it’s enough. The problem is that, like today, Agus sometimes disappears and I’m left in charge of Tín. I know he’s not a kid anymore — he’s 17 — but I feel like he’s growing up too fast and slipping through my fingers. The “man-to-man” talks aren’t happening because the idiot isn’t here, and when he’s got something going on, he doesn’t say a word.

My name is Bellatrix Martina Williams. I studied business administration but ended up having to start working at 18 so we could pay for Agustín’s programming courses, and so Tintín could keep playing football at his club. As for me — I think the thing I actually love is History, which is exactly why it drives me crazy not knowing what happened between Dad and his family.

I rushed to the kitchen. When I opened the fridge, there was half a dried-up lemon. I couldn’t believe no one had bought milk. I took a deep breath — big mistake. Everything smelled like grease. The sink was full of yesterday’s dishes. Nobody had opened the window. I was going to kill them.

When Dad was alive, we lived in a nice house. Everyone had their own room, we had a front yard and a back yard. Dad cooked like a god, so we always had homemade food. Now nobody knows how to cook and it’s all pasta, rice, ramen, fried stuff... The kitchen doesn’t look the way it used to, and it doesn’t feel like that gathering place Dad made it. Our apartment is small — no more greenery. Two bedrooms, which is why Agus and Tín share one. They fight about it a lot, but it always comes back to the same question: who’s going to leave, and where would they even go? Agustín could technically rent a studio apartment, but if he leaves me alone with Tín he knows it would be brutal, and Valentín would have to start working. So we live crammed together and he stays. We’re not rolling in money, but we get by. And right now there’s no food, because they’re idiots who didn’t buy any. They always wait for me to do everything.

After Tintín finally woke up, it was way too late. He walked out wearing a Peñarol shirt — a Pacheco one — super excited about the farewell match. I really should have told him to change, because he wore it to school, played football in it, sweated through it, and never washed it. But we’ve been too lenient with him since Dad. Anyway, since we were already late, I kept my mouth shut, gave him money to grab something for breakfast, and rushed off to work.

As soon as I stepped outside the building, I saw him again — the guy with the scar on his face, walking his dog. I don’t want to judge, but I’d bet anything he stands by the tree out front and starts moving the moment he sees me leave. I feel like he follows me all the way to the bus stop. As if we didn’t have enough problems — now I have a stalker too.

I checked my phone before going in, but the idiot hadn’t given any sign of life.

After an endless call with a customer whose purchase had no replacement parts available — the delivery driver crashed, the merchandise was lost, and it wasn’t arriving today or tomorrow — came the obligatory rude caller.

I took a deep breath and stepped out on break.

From Agus 10:14

Made it home ;)

To Agus 13:34 You weren’t going to check in at 10???

From Agus 13:46

I’m a pro :) as long as I get my work done, no problem ;)

He’s an idiot. I don’t know what standards they have at his company, but in real life, he’s a disaster. Still, I can’t deny the wave of relief that washes over me when I get a message from him and know that his precious personality is still intact.

Then came the system crash, the emails to answer, the elderly woman who had no idea what she was doing, more fighting with the system, an argument with my supervisor, and finally the trip home.

All I wanted was to get there and sleep. I’m exhausted. Being a responsible adult is the worst. I was standing on the bus, trying to plug my earphones into my phone, when the photo gallery opened. I fumbled, caught the phone in mid-air, and found myself looking at the last photo I ever took with Dad. Just the two of us. Tín took it. My little brother had grilled meat for the first time, his first asado — a momentous occasion that had to be immortalized in a photo. Agus keeps his own copy carefully guarded. Tintín wanted me to get a photo with Dad too, since otherwise I’d be the only one without my “pro griller” picture. So in the photo it’s just us, smiling at something Valentín said, standing in front of the grill at our old house.

I got home and something felt off. I was so tired I didn’t notice it right away — it was the clicking of the keyboard and mouse. When Agus works he shuts himself in, but the house was completely dark, the boys’ bedroom door was open, and light and shadows were flickering everywhere: video games. My surprise doubled when I realized Agustín wasn’t there — it was Tín at the computer. On a Thursday. With a History of Art exam tomorrow.

“Tín.” I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “Why aren’t you studying?”

“I already studied,” he answered without taking his eyes off the screen, barely lowering one side of his headphones so his ear was slightly uncovered. “It’s just a test.”

“I don’t think you want to repeat the year.” I breathed a little easier. “What’s going on, Tín?”

“Nothing.” He kept playing.

“I know something’s wrong.” I said quickly, before he could get annoyed. “If you don’t want to talk to me, talk to Agus — but get it out. Don’t keep it inside.” He made a strange sound, something between a huff and a grunt, and his face twisted. I couldn’t tell if it was because of the game or my words.

“Where’s Agus?”

“He had to go into the office.” He kept playing, without looking at me.

I went out to buy something for dinner, and when I came back, Tín was sitting there waiting for me. Valentín is your typical teenager who’s shot up too fast and hasn’t quite figured out what to do with his body — skinny and tall, taller than Agustín. His light brown hair fell in front of his grey eyes, hiding that beautiful gaze of his. But his slumped shoulders made him look defeated. He’d come out with his headphones hanging around his neck, which was strange — they were good ones, a birthday gift from Agus, and he always had them on or put away carefully.

“He threatened me, Tina.” He stood in front of me. His eyes were trembling, on the edge of tears.

I dropped the bag immediately, stepped toward him, and pulled him into a hug. Tintín hugged me back and the tears came. I didn’t understand anything.

He took a deep breath, pulled away, and started pacing, biting the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Tín?” I asked carefully.

“I didn’t want to say anything so you wouldn’t worry, but there’s someone in the game who’s been harassing me — and he knows where we live.” His expression was pure terror. “He sent me a photo of you from this morning, when you were leaving for work.”

“The stalker,” I breathed, stunned.

“You have a stalker?” He looked at me, indignant and confused, and sat down beside me.

I couldn’t process what Valentín was saying on top of everything else. Now I understood — it wasn’t paranoia. The guy with the dog had been waiting for me, watching me, and it was terrifying.

“There’s this weird guy with a scar who walks his dog and I thought he started moving the moment I left for work.” My voice came out barely above a whisper. “Now I realize — it was him. It wasn’t paranoia.”

“What are we going to do?” He was scared.

My little brother was genuinely terrified, and I couldn’t protect him.

“We’ll talk to Agus when he gets home.”

That night, Agustín came home exhausted. We explained everything.

“I already knew someone had been trying to hack into the computer — I’ve seen the camera turn on a couple of times.” He ran a hand through his hair and slumped onto the couch. “I did everything, I swear. I removed them from our device... but I couldn’t get them out of the game.” He glanced at Tín, who just shrugged.

“We need to do something,” I said finally.

“Give me until Friday,” my brother said. “End of the month evaluations are coming up, and if I get promoted, we move.” Agustín moved his hands around like he was trying to grab something invisible. “We change everything — the neighborhood, the apartment, the computer, everything.”

But I didn’t love the idea of depending entirely on my brother either.

Every day until Friday felt like an eternity. More discouraging, quieter, lonelier, greyer... but Thursday, we hit rock bottom.

I’d been dealing with insomnia from all the worry, so I couldn’t sleep — but it turned out I wasn’t the only one. I opened my bedroom door carefully because I thought I heard something, and with the stalker situation... I found Agus sitting on the armchair. He was barefoot, the tips of his feet resting on the edge, knees bent and pressed to his chest. One hand gripped his legs tight as he swayed slightly. In the other, he held a photograph.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m not protecting them the way I promised.”

I slipped back into my room as silently and quickly as I could, but I didn’t close the door. That was a mistake, because I could hear our pillar sobbing — and it broke me.

The last few days at work I’d been fighting with my supervisor and not performing well. So they let me go.

To Agus 10:59

I got fired

From Agus 11:05

We’re screwed

But when I got home, my surprise was seeing Tín there instead of Agus. Valentín should have been at school. Agustín should have been working. Instead, my little brother was at the table, pushing his food around, not eating, completely checked out.

“I know this is a hard time, Tín, but—” I didn’t know what to say. Things had just gotten worse.

“I feel like nothing is the same anymore,” he said suddenly. “My friends, school, nothing feels right, I...” He didn’t know how to go on. He stood up and came toward me. I patted him on the back. “Nothing makes sense, Tina.”

“Don’t say that, Tín.”

“But it’s true!” He stood up, angry. “We’re being stalked and nobody does anything!” He was furious — but then something shifted, and even his shoulders dropped. “And my friends, my teachers... it’s barely been eight months.” He looked at me. “And now everyone expects me to move on, to leave it in the past like it never happened.”

It hurt my soul to see my little sunshine without any light, his shoulders caved in, his grey eyes full of sadness. “Dad would have done something.”

“I know.” We stayed in silence for a moment. “And no one is going to ask you to forget Dad.”

“You’re wrong! You don’t understand anything!” His anger kept rising.

“I lost Dad too, Tín.” I said, a little sharply.

“Why does it feel like I was the only one who lost him?” His words were an accusation, a muffled cry. “I feel like I lost my North Star.”

For Tín, Dad was everything. Mom died when he was born, and the only father-mother cool uncle-strict uncle aunt-who-cooks-well was Dad. Valentín never had grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins — nothing. Just Dad, and us. It’s not the same, but I lost Mom at eight years old, and I know how brutal that is. Maybe that’s the difference — Agus and I had, in some way, already been through losing someone that important. The kisses, the hugs, the voice that sang softly and always called us to dance — gone from one day to the next. My life changed completely when Mom died. But Valentín never experienced that.

“Agus and I will never be like Dad,” I started, “but we’re going to love you unconditionally. You know that, right?”

“So unconditionally that my brother gets a Tinder match and disappears.”

Valentín got up and locked himself in the room. Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on. Agus and I have always been so close, but now I feel like he doesn’t trust me anymore, like he doesn’t tell me anything. And now with Valentín — I feel like I’m not enough. He needs his older brother, and the idiot isn’t here. A lot of the time I think Agustín makes everything more complicated than it needs to be. Deep down, I wish that one day he will be our saviour.

I sat down and noticed there was a letter on the table. Not a receipt — something serious, a thick envelope. Addressed to“Bellatrix Martina Williams and Brothers.”Even though I wanted to open it, I’d rather do it with Agus nearby. I stayed there for a few minutes, frozen in my seat, thinking. I was clearly going to have to talk to Agustín when I saw him.

To Agus 19:29

Where are you?We need to talk

I showered and made a rice with vegetables — or a poor attempt at one. Tín served himself a plate but took it to his room. I ate alone. There was still more in the pot, because I’d made enough for the idiot too. Knowing him, when he finally decided to show up, he’d be starving.

I washed the dishes and sat back down with the mysterious envelope. I didn’t think I could wait until tomorrow. But before I could open it, I heard keys in the front door and Agustín walked in. His jet-black, straight hair was the first thing I noticed. He and I are the same height Tín is younger but the tallest of all of us. His pale skin — white like Dad’s — was barely visible under his black, loose-fitting clothes that covered almost his whole body. But when he finally turned his face toward me, he didn’t have his usual expression of satisfaction, superiority, or smug amusement. He was carrying a bag of fast food.

“How are you?” he asked, walking past without looking at me and setting the bag on the table. Something was off — he was avoiding eye contact. “The internet went down, so I went to Daniel’s to finish a sprint.” He said it like it was nothing.

The internet might have gone down for a few minutes, but I’d been home all day and we’d had internet. And since I have no idea what a sprint is...

“Your phone went down too?” I didn’t want all my anger to come through, but it was inevitable. “It’s almost eleven and you didn’t answer anything.”

“My battery died.” He shrugged like it was nothing. “I’m not Tín, Martina. You don’t need to track me.”

“This isn’t about tracking you!” I snapped. “Everything is falling apart!” I slammed the table and Agustín flinched.

I know he tries to feel nothing behind his layers of sarcasm and irony.

“Tín is not okay, he needs both of us, and you’re never here!” It came out almost like a plea.

I glanced at the bedroom door. I moved closer to Agustín so I could lower my voice.

“Tintín feels lost. He still hasn’t gotten over Dad’s death, the stalker situation isn’t helping, and I don’t know how to help him.”

“I...” Agustín was at a loss for words.

“I always have to deal with the house and with Tín.” I said it as calmly as I could before he could make an excuse. “I’m not a mother, and I’m not asking you to be a father — but I’m doing this alone.”

“Oh, so now you’re the family martyr.” He snapped back with his classic sarcasm. “Right, no one else suffers around here — poor Martina, she’s the only one.” His breathing picked up. “Dad died, but we’re still alive,” he said, suddenly calm. “You know what that means? It means we have to keep living. Why don’t you try that — get yourself a life?”

That last line hit hard, because he’s right. I live for them and through them. Maybe it’s time to start living for myself.

“What’s this envelope?” he asked suddenly, looking at it and then at me.

“I didn’t open it. Maybe it’s the new life I ordered by mail.” I shot back, borrowing his own sarcasm.

We opened the envelope and never expected what was inside:

Dear Bellatrix, Andrew and Thomas:

I’ll admit that opening line caught me off guard — but of course, for English speakers it must be perfectly normal to use our English names. The letter wasn’t in Spanish.

I hope this letter finds you as well as one can be during such a painful time. My name is Eleanor Jager, though in your family records — if your father ever mentioned anything — I may appear as “Aunt Ellie.”

“Aunt Ellie?” Agus was skeptical.

“Actually,” I started to explain, “the only relative of Dad’s I know anything about is Aunt Ellie. He mentioned her a few times. Oh, and our grandparents.”

“He never talked to me about his family.” He added, with a hint of resentment.

Your father, Richard, was my nephew — the son of my dear, late sister Bellatrix. The Williams family married into the Jager estate and came to live at Jager Manor. Richard’s sudden disappearance all those years ago left an immense void in our family and in my heart. He and I were very close.

“A manor?” Agustín looked stunned.

“Dad never let me tell you this, but the Williams family always had a lot of money.”

“And here we are, starving?” That was an accusation — he almost threw the letter across the room.

“AGUSTÍN!”

Recently, and with great sorrow, I learned of his passing. Words cannot express how grieved I am — not only for having lost our rebellious Richard a second time, but knowing that you, his blood, his legacy, have been left alone in the world. He never would have wanted that for you. It pains me deeply not to have been there to help carry that weight.

“I still don’t know about this.” Agus wasn’t convinced.

I cannot change the past, but I can offer you a future. This house — Jager Manor — was his home. The happiest memories of Richard’s youth live within these walls. It is large, perhaps too large for one old woman alone, and I dread the thought of it filling with echoes.

Therefore, with all the love I had for your father, I extend a formal invitation: come to England. Come home. I have enclosed three open-ended plane tickets and all the necessary documents — my solicitor has taken care of everything. It is all paid for. You need bring nothing more than your luggage and the willingness to give this old aunt a chance — one who wants, more than anything in the world, to meet the children of her beloved nephew and to care for them.

You are not alone. You have a family waiting for you with open arms.

With all my love,

Aunt Ellie

Agustín remained skeptical, going through every page in the envelope. And sure enough, everything Aunt Ellie had described was there — plus a small note from her solicitor laying out the conditions of her proposal. But the bottom line was clear: tickets, accommodation, everything we’d need was covered by her. We had no financial responsibility whatsoever. Only then did Agus start to look more confident.

All the letters and tickets were spread across the table. Tín had come out of his room.

“What’s all this?” he asked, puzzled.

“The solution to all our problems,” I said, with certainty.

“Going there is insane.” Agustín muttered, holding the tickets up close, checking for the hundredth time that nothing was fake.

“And staying here isn’t?” I burst out. “I got fired, we’re being stalked, we won’t be safe even if we move neighborhoods —” I looked at Agus — “you know they’re going to keep hacking us and finding out where we live. Tintín is struggling at school... did you by any chance find true love, and that’s why you don’t want to go?” Now I was using his own weapon against him. He just huffed.

Valentín already had his phone out.

“Where are we going? I’ll look up the earliest flights.”

It all felt completely surreal — but seeing how our life here was falling apart... the decision was easy. It was a desperate solution to an unsolvable problem. Even though I knew it wasn’t rational.I knew my father’s family had money. I wasn’t entirely sure of the details — the truth is I never really understood why Dad cut all ties with them. He never talked about it, no matter how many times I asked. But I did gather that it wasn’t because they had treated him badly, so the whole “rebellious Richard” thing from the letter could very well be true. We need a change. My brothers didn’t know anything about the Williams family fortune until that letter. And I — I need answers. Why did Dad leave behind a wealthy family to come live a modest life here?

When I woke up, all I could do was look at him and feel grateful. Soon I felt my phone vibrating. I didn’t care about anything — he had come back. A happiness I can’t put into words washed over me... and then my phone again. I grabbed it, annoyed, and looked at the screen: 25 missed calls between Tín, Jim, Stephen and Jason...Agus!I started going through the messages.

From Jason 6:45

Bella? Where r u and Andy?????

From Jason 7:15

No ones at the werewolf house

From Jim 7:20

Tina, are you alright?

From Tintín 7:21

WTF HAPPENED? WHERE R U? AND AGUS? U OK? :O

From Tintín 7:25

TINAAAAAAA

From Jason 7:40

Just saw the cage is destroyed!