Taina
DON’T GIVE UP
The sound of a door slamming jolts me awake.
I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to combat the dryness that makes each breath feel near painful.
Slowly, I attempt to open my eyes. Part of me wishes I hadn’t woken up, knowing that if I’m in his clutches again, he’s going to torture me for as long as he physically can before finally killing me.
But what if it isn’t him, and he’s walking around with no real plans for me in mind?
There’s no way. As evil as the monster is, he has to somehow be involved here.
With my eyes finally open, I take stock. The room is dim and bare, with cement walls and a single light.
The events before losing consciousness all rush back to me.
Paloma!
But when I glance around, she isn’t here. It’s just me, my hands bound by rope on my lap, in the middle of the room on a metal folding chair. My ankles are tied to the legs of the chair, and I wonder whose awful idea that was.
There are footsteps echoing above me, and by the sounds of it, more than one person is here. I can’t make out their voices more than a dull hum, so I sit here and wait.
It feels like forever by the time someone enters, heavy steps thudding down the stairs, the door creaking both when it opens and as it shuts.
I wish I could say I’m surprised to see Fabián in front of me, but given his presence when I was taken, I’m not. But I am confused about the role he plays here. Is he working for the Russians? It’s safe to assume that’s the language he was speaking on his call before I passed out.
Did the Russians take me?
“Rise and shine, Princesa ,” he greets me, a rolled up beanie over his head, even though it’s summer. Never a good sign. “You’ll notice I had to toss your bag. Can’t have you armed, now can we?”
“Who’s ‘we’?” I loll my head to the side to glare at him. “Because it’s clear your incompetent ass could never pull something like this off on your own.”
He scoffs, puffing his chest out just as his phone chimes with an incoming call. With a roll of his eyes, he turns his back to me to answer his phone.
“Yeah, she’s awake.” He pauses, and I assume the person on the other line is speaking. “The other one? Yeah, she’s got her.” More silence ensues, and I glance over at the small window in the corner of the room, near the ceiling.
It’s too far to see anything other than grass, and I wonder how far we are from the city. Am I even near Austin anymore? Has it been days or hours?
The fact that I haven’t pissed on myself tells me that it’s likely been hours. Please don’t let that happen , I think to myself, knowing the stench all too well. The acrid foulness clings to everything, nearly strong enough to singe your scent receptors.
Not to mention the shame that comes with having your face shoved in it as a man defiles you. There’s a space in my mind that I’ve only ever gone to during my assault. It took me weeks to get out of there, but I feel myself slipping away from this world.
No. Wake up.
Don’t give up.
“Everyone’s scrambling, just like we planned.” He glances over his shoulder at me. “Yeah, see you soon.”
He ends the call and stands in front of me, squatting down to meet my eyes. “You thought I wouldn’t recognize you?”
He pulls his balaclava down and realization hits me, tangling with my dread and fear.
There were masked men all around, speaking Spanish and another language I couldn’t place.
Russian.
“Watching Emiliano fall in love with you after seeing you sitting naked in your own piss, being face-fucked…” He shakes his head with a chuckle. “It definitely threw me. But he’s always been the weakest of the bunch.”
In spite of my emotionless face, a tear escapes. When he tries to wipe it, I turn away.
“He isn’t coming to save you,” Fabián murmurs, following it with a tsk that has me snapping my teeth at him, narrowly missing his hand. He’s unfazed, stepping back with his phone in his hand. “In fact, let me give him a call and throw him off the scent.”
Fabián walks off, pulling the door shut with force.
With as deep of a breath as I can muster, I remind myself that even if I die in this room, I’ve laid out enough traps to bring him down.
Tears fill my eyes as I think of Emiliano and what he’s going to find out about me. How ruined I am, and all that was done to me.
But I don’t have time for shame; not when I know the monster will be here. With my wrists roped together, I push under my boobs to see if I still— yes!
This idiot didn’t check me for weapons, and I can feel the switchblade I’d tucked in my cleavage pressing into my chest. I push, awkwardly but strategically, until it peeks out from between my breasts.
With my two thumbs, I grab it and tuck the blade into my palm.
All while I try to open it without stabbing myself, I try to figure out the missing pieces of the puzzle here. When it’s clear that I’d be unable to cut through the rope, I slouch back in my seat.
The need to cry has me taking deep breaths, my vision blurring.
I’ll have to wait until he’s close enough to harm me to kill him. Which makes it likelier that I won’t be walking out of here.
At least I got one last night with Emiliano.