[Peter had a point, and Dieguez knew it. That didn't stop his brow from furrowing or his features from stiffening up and setting. Violence had become something too natural to him, much as one breathes. It had seemed evident to him why he did such a thing, yet, now, he faced difficulty in explaining this reaction.

El Durante blinked once, and then,] Do you know what it is, to take your family on a trip? You work hard to save up for it all year, you pack and you plan, and you think of what you can do, as a family, to have fun and create the nicest memories.

And do you know what it is, to drive back from all of that in a bullet-ridden car? To force yourself to drive on, even after your little girl in the back seat has stopped crying and your wife has stopped moving? Even after the night has fallen, your radio only picks up static, and your engine has died, you still move because you know you must.

Do you know how any of that feels? To build your life around one weekend, and to spend so long building something you believe is unbreakable, only to have all of it undone in a day?

Do you know what it is, to feel like nothing, to become something, and, then, become nothing again? [As Dieguez spoke, his eyes did not water or look away. There was no sadness in his tone. Grief was weak, and he would not be weak.

He could never allow himself to be weak again.] That was what I wished to prove. They refused to listen, so I tried to show them in another way. [This wasn't a nice tactic. He knew it, but Dieguez saw this as a way of confronting the issue perhaps, it really was no different than slamming a door and running, but nobody with two brain cells would even attempt to let him hear that.]