Eileen choked back the details. How could she describe her mother's look of disgust, the glint of anger that sent scissors flying at her eyes?
"I almost got stabbed in the eye," she mumbled, the memory heavy on her tone.
Diego must have sensed that she was hiding the truth, but he didn't press her for more. Sipping her milk quietly, Eileen asked him in a weary tone.
"Diego, aren't you afraid of anything?"
"I'm sure I am. I have fears, too."
Naturally, she thought it was just a lie to comfort herself. But Diego, his gaze unwavering, continued, "I feared defeat."
"Defeat?"
"Yes… We train, strategize, fight... but sometimes, no matter what, you lose. Again. And Again." He ran a hand through his hair, a fleeting gesture that underscored his words.
