Falling with Grace

18. Grace

18

Grace

B irds chirped, and faint murmurings from the outside wafted to my window.

Throwing back the covers, I stretched, my body stiff after a hard sleep. Dogs barked in the far-off distance. I turned my head toward the clock.

Nine A.M.

My eyes widened.

Nine A.M.?

I jumped out of bed, my feet slipping on the smooth floor, the hard surface rushing to meet me.

Sharp blades skidded across my palms as they collided with the unforgiving marble. My elbows followed suit, and the whoosh of expelled air from my lungs flattened them against the cold floor. A sharp crackling resonance sent a lightning bolt of pain radiating through my skull upon impact. My chin hit the ground, teeth jarring together as if a three-hundred-pound linebacker had plowed into me.

The bigger you are…

Rolling to the side, a groan escaped me, and my jaw clenched. My arm remained pinned to my body, and sharp tidbits of agony sparked across my rib cage and side.

I rocked through the pain, my body swaying side-to-side like a boat on high seas.

A warm, wet dribble traced down the underside of my chin and throat, pooling in the hollow.

My fingers dipped into the liquid, returning stained with a vivid shade of red.

Blood?

Sarah's mangled face flashed before me, her twisted body conforming to the rocks beneath her .

Oh God.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but her image remained burned into my retinas.

Taking a deep breath, I rolled to my side and stood, using the bed as support. My hand pressed into my side as I doubled over, the sharp stabbing akin to a runner’s stitch.

Stupid shoes.

They lay beside the bed, their treacherous soles pointed upwards.

Not how I left them .

Elias must have kicked them over.

Blood trickled down my chest, teasing the fine hairs in its descent. I swiped at it, eliciting a sharp sting.

I hissed and rushed out of my room, darting between both guards stationed on either side of my door and into the bathroom, closing the door before they could see the mild carnage.

Crimson stained my fingertips in a gruesome blanket.

How many times has someone's blood gone down these drains?

My hands shook beneath the water as the evidence of my clumsiness washed away, my empty stomach on the spin cycle.

The swelling rendered my chin lopsided, a grotesque distortion of its usual form, along with a short gash in the center.

My heart thundered in my chest, my sweaty hands yanking open the top drawer.

There must be Band-Aids here somewhere…

I bit my lip, closed the drawer full of hair ties and combs, and then moved on to the next and the next, each one a disappointment.

How could I go downstairs like this?

The chill of the washcloth met my throbbing chin as muffled footsteps shuffled outside the door.

If I didn't tell him first, they would.

I pulled the cloth away. My head swam, my knees wobbled.

Oh no.

No. No. No.

I sucked in deep breaths through my nose and out my mouth in slow, restrained counts, but my stomach lurched, and my feet darted for the toilet.

Clinging to the porcelain throne, I retched with nothing to expel, my stomach convulsing in silent agony, my rib screaming from the strain, my head pounding .

After a moment of silence, I stood, wiped my mouth with the backside of the cloth, and tossed it into the clothes chute.

Clothes…

I turned back to the mirror, my neck collar stained, and the blood stemmed.

Shit.

Okay… It's no problem.

I can do this…

Throwing open the door, I rushed between the two guards and straight into my room, my chin tucked down to my chest as I closed the door.

I darted into the closet, threw off my stained shirt, and tossed on a new one, a dark purple one resembling a ripe plum.

My belly growled.

Nine-fifteen.

Stupid clock.

My shoulders tensed as I tossed open the door for the umpteenth time and bounced down the stairs, the guards exhaling their displeasure.

" Mi hija. I thought you'd never wake up."

A slight smile formed over my lips, then diminished with astonishing speed as it pulled the skin from my chin.

Her hand touched my upper back as she guided me through the foyer.

"Rosa?" I paused before we entered the dining room, offset from the kitchen—the end of the table within sight. "Do you have any bandages for this?" I pointed to my chin and raised it so she could see.

" Dios mío." She reached up, and I flinched. "Sit still so I can see."

"Sorry, it's done bleeding, I just need—"

"What's happening?" Elias' resonant voice swept between us, filling the space as he loomed.

I shook my head and turned away from him, covering the wound. "It's noth—"

"Her chin." Rosa pointed. " Mira ." Look.

"It's nothing. I just—"

"Let me see."

Elias squeezed between Rosa and me, blocking his mother from whatever he was about to do.

"It's nothing really. Just a small knick."

My heart thudded, the pulse echoing in my ears while a flush of heat crept up my neck. The rich, spicy scent of leather engulfed my senses, and the pristine white of his expensive button-down shirt dominated my vision.

Why did he have to smell so good?

Andrés smelled like tequila and overripe bananas—his breath stale with chili-coated candies.

I held my breath behind clenched lips.

He reached out.

"It was an accident." I brought my hands between us, shielding my face with both hands. " Please." Pressing my back hard against the wall, I clenched my eyelids tight. "I'm sorry. I'll be more careful next time."

A warm hand brushed against my face, and I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze as his thumb traced over my cheekbone. "Let me see, Grace."

My stomach dipped, and a warmth of ease washed over me. "You're… you're not mad?" My forehead wrinkled as I tipped my chin, giving him a better look at the minor damage.

"Why would I be mad?" He sighed as he glanced at my wound. "Accidents happen." He placed his hand on my back and ushered me into the open-concept kitchen. "We'll get it cleaned up and call for Dr. Navarro today."

Elias guided me toward the kitchen counter, and Nadia, exuding elegance in a beige short-sleeve blouse, black slacks, and matching heels, set her drink down, rose from the table, and approached us.

I thought breakfast was at eight?

Did I misunderstand him?

He paused beside the sink and dampened a cloth. "Look up."

Ants crawled over my skin as she neared, her gaze fixated on me. "What happened?"

She was prettier up close with her cascading black locks, rosy lips, and sun-kissed complexion.

In stark contrast, I embodied a paler shade, marked by the absence of sun exposure and Hispanic heritage, with green eyes and unassuming brown hair.

No comparison existed between us.

She was simply beautiful.

"She had an accident."

Elias patted the wound with the cloth, and I hissed, dodging his next attempt, my hand swiping his touch away.

He countered, his other hand sweeping across my vision, seizing the hand that hit him. His thick fingers wrapped around my wrist with a punishing grip. "Hold still."

"Looks like she doesn't want you touching her, Elias." Nadia snatched the cloth from his hand and bumped him to the side with a hip check, his warm grip releasing. "Here. Let me. You men are so gruff sometimes."

"Nadia…"

She gave him a glaring smile, then turned her attention to me. "Hi, I'm Nadia. Elias' prometida ." She pressed the cloth to my chin with a gentle hand, her finger touching the branding tattoo behind my ear. "And you are?"

I glanced at Elias, who loomed over us, his broad shoulders tapering down to narrow hips where his hands rested.

His fiancée?

"I'm Grace—"

"She's my guest , Nadia. There's no need for an interrogation."

Had he told her the reason I was here?

Nadia smiled, using a firmer hand against my wound, causing me to flinch. "I'm not interrogating her." She glared at him. "If she's our guest, shouldn't I get to know her a little?" She leaned to the side, her finger sliding behind my ear beyond my tattoo. A smile curved her plump lips as she leaned back.

" My guest." Elias' jaw pulsed, his brows drawing down as he moved in. "Nadia, go drink your mimosa."

"Touchy, touchy."

She tossed the cloth to the counter and stepped away, my shoulders sagging.

"Thank… thank you, Nadia." My voice broke as I whispered and turned away from Elias, watching her walk back to the table.

She sat beside Rosa, who continued sipping on a small cup as Elias picked up the cloth.

I stepped away. "I think it's okay now."

He pointed his finger at the floor before him. "Come back here."

My shoulders hunched, and my gaze hit the floor.

Nadia banged her hand on the table. "Do you treat all of your guests like dogs, Elias?"

I shuffled forward, invading his space, and looked up at him.

"I'm almost done."

A lump formed in my throat as his dark gaze softened, his touch gentle as he brought the cloth back to my chin.

I swallowed as heat bloomed in my belly.

What was this?

Why did he look at me like that?

Why did he care about me now?

The cloth swiped across my chin as I gazed up at him, his eyes darting between his motions and my eyes. After a few moments, he dropped the cloth on the counter and stepped away from me.

"Breakfast is over. I suggest you wake up sooner."

His softness diminished as he walked back to the head of the table, sat, and picked up his fork.

"Sorry. I-I never sleep like that."

Rosa smiled. "Like what, c ari?o?"

A sickening sweat broke out across my brow, and my breath caught in my throat.

Miguel…

"Grace?" Nadia raised a brow as she leaned over the table, around Rosa, and glanced at me.

I swallowed, my tongue like sandpaper. "I…um…" Tucking my hand into my pocket, I caressed the smooth rosary beads. "I never sleep. I'm always plagued by…" Terrifying nightmares that have me running scared in the night. "Bad dreams."

Elias braced his arms on the edge of it. He glanced up at me as he sipped his cup of coffee. "Are you going to sit or stare like a lost puppy?"

He wanted me to sit…at the table…with them?

I couldn't do that.

I couldn't sit beside him, his mother, and fiancée and pretend as though he hadn't held me against my will, forced me to defecate in a bucket and kept me in the dark with sleep deprivation.

How could he expect that of me?

My body still hummed with lack of sleep.

"I'm…" I squeezed the rosary as I stared at the amazing food on the table. "I'm not that hungry."

"Nonsense, Grace." Nadia smiled at me. "Come have a seat. Rosa made chilaquiles ."

"No, really. I don't want to impose."

"There's no imposición. Sit before it chills."

I shuffled to the table, my body on fire, my chin stinging.

I need a soak and five days of uninterrupted sleep.

" Aqui." Rosa piled a plate with fried corn tortilla strips tinged with a red sauce, then placed two fried eggs over the top. She garnished it with avocado, cheese, and cilantro, then placed it on the table across from her, next to Elias.

My heartbeat echoed as I sidestepped eye contact, settled into the chair, and succumbed to the tantalizing aroma of spices, triggering a Pavlovian response in my mouth.

How long has it been since I sat at a table to eat?

When was I last fed anything beyond sopas, tortillas, rice, and beans—except for those moments with the nuns?

Andrés only provided meals consisting of those staples, never including any meat. Fruits and vegetables were a rarity, and our diet left us with vitamin deficiencies so severe that he resorted to feeding us supplements the size of horse pills.

Nadia tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Now that we have that taken care of, how about sharing a bit about yourself, Grace?"

A creeping warmth prickled up my spine as I forked a bite of tortilla.

Elias cleared his throat, settling back in his seat, wrists on the edge of the table. His gaze traced a fiery path across my flesh as if daring me to reveal the atrocities he had forced upon me.

My stomach growled with hunger, the acid churning away at whatever remnants lingered from my last meal.

"Not much to tell, really." I raised my fork, taking a bite of food, and chewed.

"Where in America are you from?" Nadia dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin, then placed it on her lap, her manicured nails tapping the table with a click .

Three years had passed since I last witnessed the city's vibrant details, yet they lingered in my mind like a familiar couch, molding itself to my memories. "Chicago." I exhaled, letting the city's name escape my lips.

"You're a long way from home. How did you end up in Mexico?"

Elias reclined in his seat, his grasp enclosing the handle of the coffee cup within his broad hand.

"I was brought here."

I continued to eat while Nadia indulged in her mimosa, taking occasional sips.

Looks like orange juice to me.

Rosa leaned in and grabbed another scoop of food.

"By your family? Where are your parents? "

Blood.

Glass.

Darkness.

My fork clattered onto the plate, adrenaline plunging my heart into the dark abyss of my stomach. "I'd rather—"

Elias stood, extending his hand to Nadia. "We're going to be late."

"Whatever you do, don't pick white." Rosa turned her cup with her fingertips.

"Why not?" Nadia stood, her fingertips brushing her chest.

"Because white is traditional. We're anything but."

I toyed with my fork, nudging the tortilla strips around the plate, a red heat slapping my cheeks, my gaze pinned to my plate.

"We can change that."

"No…" Rosa shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. "You can't. Not when you go whoring yourself around."

"Mamá—"

Nadia gasped, her cheeks aflame in a scarlet hue matching the intensity of my burn. "Why would you say something like that?"

Elias and Nadia's voice rose over one another. My brows rose to my hairline, and my lips pressed tight together as I hung my head.

Please stop.

Did this stem from her Alzheimer's, or did she harbor animosity towards Nadia?

When Carly talked about her grandpa's Alzheimer's, she described his increasing aggression and worsening hurtful remarks as the disease progressed. In the end, he reached a stage where he stopped speaking, eating, and moving on his own.

"Mamá." Elias walked around the table and assisted Rosa in standing as I placed my fork on the table, my appetite waning. "Maybe you should rest or practice your puzzle."

"What for? I feel fine."

Javier entered the open kitchen as Nadia exited the room with an exasperated huff. "Dr. Navarro is here. What did I miss?"

Shaking his head, Elias assisted his mother by her elbow, guiding her away from the table. "Take Grace to the study, and make sure he examines her chin as well."

Javier nodded, and I stood.

"Eventful morning, I see."

I recoiled from his touch as we rounded the corner into the study, passing through glass-framed doors. The mosaic-style glass cast delicate rays onto the floor.

Dr. Navarro sat beside a desk crafted from a polished, preserved tree trunk slab supported by thick branches holding the immense weight. He rested his elbow on the desk, his button-up shirt and bolo tie tight against his thick, meaty neck.

He rose from his seat and inclined his head, casting me a curious, distinctive glance. " Buenos días."

"Good morning." I nodded and wrapped my arm around my waist, latching my hand on my elbow to keep it in place.

Javier sat behind the desk, hiked his feet up onto the custom table, and placed his hands on top of his head in a relaxed manner.

Dr. Navarro shifted his attention to Javier. "I've treated her before." He wagged his finger as if grasping at a distant memory. Stepping closer, he eased his fingers over my shoulder and took hold of my wrist with the other hand, raising my arm to shoulder level.

I winced and shied away.

"A woman in the city discovered her on the riverbank."

A cold sweat erupted along my neck, and the air lodged in my throat.

The couple who'd called Andrés' men...

If he was associated with them… then Andrés could know I'm here.

I jerked away from him, my shoulder tingling and sharp. "No. No. No." I darted for the closed doors.

Fingers threaded through my hair, yanking me backward, and my scalp screamed.

"Let me go!" I released a high-pitched wail, my hands wrapping around his wrist as I twisted and kicked at his knees.

Javier leaned back from me, the tips of my toes skimming his rough jeans. "Calm down. He's just examining you."

"Is this because I didn't tell him where Andrés was? Why not just kill me?"

His brows scrunched together. "What are you talking about?"

"Him." I pointed to the wide-eyed doctor. "He knows the couple who turned me into Andrés. Does he work with Andrés too if he treats his sympathizers?"

Javier turned back to Dr. Navarro, his grip unyielding. "Is this true?"

Dr. Navarro shook his head. "I treat many people in the city. If what she's saying is true, I have no knowledge of it. I'll give you the couple's name and address." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black flip phone.

"He must be lying." I tugged against his tight grip on my hair, my stomach threatening to expel my breakfast. "They said he could be trusted."

"Be quiet." Javier jerked me around.

"Careful." Dr. Navarro took a half-step forward and reached out. "The last time I saw her, she had a concussion."

My heart raced, and my shoulders tightened. My lungs worked overtime, inhaling and exhaling, while my pained chin trembled.

"You know I'll bring this to his attention."

Javier dragged me into the study and shoved me into the chair. A sharp, shooting pain surged through my forearm and to my fingertips as it struck the wooden armrest, hitting my funny bone.

"I wouldn't expect anything else."

"Don't move, Grace. Elias wants you looked at." His grip fell from my sore scalp.

Dr. Navarro approached, and I stole a quick glance out the double doors. My hands braced on the armrests, legs tensed.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to see how you're healing."

"Don't forget her chin. She cut it this morning." Javier dragged a chair in front of the French doors and sat with his elbows on his knees.

"I can see that." He plopped in the seat across from me and dug into his bag at his side. "You're a bit of a mess. Aren't you?"

I kept my lips sealed, my heart thumping against my sternum like an army desperate for escape.

He moved about his examination, and I maintained a death grip on the armrests, my gaze fixed on a ceremonial dress hung behind the desk.

The intricate beadwork must have taken someone weeks to complete.

"Your shoulder is healing nicely. I wouldn't bother binding it again." He glanced at Javier. "Her chin is fine. Only a minor cut. It should heal without sutures. But we should remove these old stitches now. They aren't doing you much good anymore."

He reached into his bag, dotted my chin with an ointment, placed a small bandage over the wound, and then withdrew each thread from my scalp with medical tweezers and scissors.

When his hands withdrew, I leaped from my chair and positioned myself next to Javier, who blocked the door. "I'd like to leave now."

My toes turned white as I dug them into the hard flooring.

He exhaled through his nose, stood, and then opened the door as he dragged the chair away.

The weight on my chest eased as I crossed the threshold. Liberation accompanied my hurried steps down the hallway until a small whine emanated from the space to the right. My feet halted, my movements frozen as another whimper struck me.

"Rosa?" Rosa's forlorn frame hunched on the couch, staring beyond the window overlooking the valley below as though she were drugged, her hand grasping a photograph in her lap."What's wrong?"

Approaching with a tentative step, I gently touched her shoulder. "Are you okay?" I glanced behind me.

No one followed.

I sat beside her, her floral perfume a comforting scent.

A smile formed on her wrinkled face, her grip causing the photograph to shake.

“We were childhood friends." Her quiet voice broke through the silence, cutting the space between us with sadness.

"Who was?"

"Fulgencio."

"Where is he now?"

"He died after our fortieth anniversary." Her gaze lowered to the photograph of two boys in black and white, each holding a small hand-held shovel, their expressions frozen in an empty stare.

Had Elias given her something to sedate her?

"I'm so sorry, Rosa." I touched the photograph as a lightning bolt rippled across my lower abdomen. Hunching over, I braced my arm against the pain.

Not right now…

"May I?"

She let out a sorrowful sigh and released the photograph. I picked up the stiff, white-outlined picture and stared at it. "Is that his brother?"

"His best friend…" Rosa's blank stare turned towards me as she tilted her head. "Andrés."