Chapter 6: Teeth

Jair “Teeth” Morato
Insomniac since 2005

Some characters arrive with a backstory. Teeth arrived with a legend. The kind nobody tells the same way twice… and he never bothers to correct.

He fought in parking lots for meal vouchers and loose change. Lost seven teeth in his last fight and buried them like they were his children. Gave each one a name. Nobody knows if that’s true. He doesn’t confirm. He doesn’t deny. He just runs his tongue across the empty gum and changes the subject.

—
Back then, they called me Jair Morato.
Now they just call me Teeth.

I was a boxer in parking lot rings.
I train the rookies now.
But I don’t teach them how to hit.
I teach them how to take a beating
without forgetting who the hell they are.

I carry a hand-carved brass knuckle,
engraved with crooked Latin that screams:
NON EST REDEMPTIO.

There is no redemption.
There is only: still here. Still showing up.

Seven holes. Seven names.
Silence.
Shame.
Rage.
Addiction.
Hope.
Lies.
Faith.

I visit them on Fridays.
I don’t bring flowers. I bring my hands.

So says the Code.