Chapter 18 Daniela
DANIELA
“What?” Hawk jumps to his feet.
I swallow, staring at the card. “The flowers aren’t for Eagle. They’re for me.”
“What?” He comes to me quickly.
I tear open the note—
A chill of fright sweeps through me.
Beauty may draw a hawk close, but the thorns drive him away.
The note slips from my fingers.
Hawk stoops down, picks it up, and reads it.
His jaw clenches.
“I’m being watched,” I say, my voice trembling.
“Fuck…” Hawk races out of Eagle’s room.
He’s gone for a few minutes. I take a closer look at the bouquet, sliding my fingers over the soft petals. Something’s off, though.
And it hits me quickly.
The bouquet, rather than being tied with ribbon, is tied with barbed wire.
Rusty barbed wire.
I pull my hand away quickly, and a drop of blood oozes from my fingertip.
Hawk storms back into the room, his face flushed and contorted with anger. “I couldn’t find the orderly who delivered the flowers,” he says, “and I didn’t look at him too closely. Do you remember what he looked like, Dani?”
I shake my head. “No. The bouquet is so big. I was looking at it, not the guy who brought it.”
“The hospital has cameras, so we can ask to review the footage.” Hawk shakes his head. “But here’s the thing. I asked a nurse. Flowers aren’t allowed in the ICU. Anyone who actually works here would know that.”
Dread surges through me.
“That’s not all,” I say quietly.
“What?”
“Look at this.” I show him the barbed wire.
“Damn,” Hawk says. “You didn’t touch the wire, did you?”
“Not on purpose.” I show him my finger.
“Fuck.” He grabs a paper towel from above the sink and wraps my finger quickly. “When was your last tetanus shot?”
“I’m not sure, but trust me, my father kept me up to date on all vaccines. He didn’t want me catching anything during my…”
“We’re in a hospital. Let’s get you a booster just to be safe.” He sighs. “I suppose at least he did that much for you. Keeping your vaccines up to date.”
I scoff. “Are you kidding? It wasn’t for me. It was for him. A disease would put me out of commission.”
* * *
Two Years Earlier…
Chlamydia.
The doctor says I have chlamydia.
So that’s what’s causing all the burning and discomfort.
“What? How?”
“It’s a sexually transmitted infection,” the doctor says. “The good news is that it’s treatable. You’ll need to take antibiotics for about a week. And of course, inform your sexual partners.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.
My father.
He’ll be furious. As for my sexual partners? He’ll get to do that informing. I wouldn’t know how to contact them.
“I understand, Doctor,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I need to tell your father,” the doctor says. “Get dressed, and we’ll talk in my office.”
My father? I got this because one of his associates was infected and gave it to me. I’m only sixteen years old, and I’ve had an abortion already. Now this?
My father can’t force me to entertain his associates while I’m contagious.
He’s going to be angry. Of course he won’t say anything like this in front of the doctor.
No. He’ll play the concerned parent, tell the doctor he’ll give me a talking-to about abstaining from sex, or at least using protection.
His wrath will wait until we’re home.
I dress hastily and a nurse collects me and leads me to the doctor’s office. My father is there, looking stern but not raging.
He’ll save that for later.
The doctor arrives and sits down.
“Mr. Agudelo,” she begins, “Daniela has been diagnosed with chlamydia. It’s a sexually transmitted infection but treatable with antibiotics, which I’m going to prescribe now.”
His face hardens, but he nods, giving nothing away. “Thank you, Doctor, for your prompt attention to my daughter’s health.” He turns to me. “Are you okay, querida?”
Right. Like he cares. He’s never called me querida in my life.
“I’m uncomfortable but otherwise I feel fine,” I say without emotion.
“Good, good.” He smiles.
What a fake.
The doctor clears her throat. “I’ve prescribed a week-long course for Daniela. She’ll need to come back in a month’s time for a follow-up.”
My father nods, his expression unreadable. “All right,” he says, maintaining his calm facade. “Will that be all, Doctor?”
The doctor looks at me and then back at my father. “Yes, that would be all. Please ensure she takes the medication consistently and completes the course.”
The car ride home is silent. The tension is palpable, a storm cloud ready to burst. I sit in the back seat and watch the passing buildings outside. I’m terrified. Terrified of my father’s reaction. Terrified of the punishment that will surely come.
As we pull into our driveway, my father finally speaks. “Go to your room.”
His voice is cold, devoid of any emotion. I nod, clambering out of the car and rushing inside the house. I rush past the kitchen, ignoring the curious glances of our housekeeper.
I retreat to the safety of my room, closing the door softly behind me. I collapse onto my bed, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. I want to cry, to scream, to let out all the anger and sadness.
But I don’t.
My father will come to me.
He will punish me for this, even though it’s the fault of one of his business associates.
My father will come.
It’s only a matter of when.
The minutes tick by, each one agonizingly slow, each one amplifying the dread coiling in my stomach. I feel like a lamb waiting for slaughter, as if I’m suspended on the precipice of a cliff, awaiting the push that will send me spiraling into the abyss below.
A knock on the door makes me jump, my heart pounding against my chest. I don’t respond. Maybe if I stay silent, he’ll go away.
“Daniela.” His voice is cold, emotionless, a stark contrast to his usual fiery temper. “Open the door.”
I don’t want to. I want to barricade it, to hide from him, to pretend that none of this is happening. But that’s not an option. Not when it’s his house, his rules.
I rise from my bed, my legs shaking as I approach the door. Taking a deep breath, I open it, flinching at the sight of my father standing there, his presence overpowering. His eyes are hard, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“A week,” he says through gritted teeth. “A week of antibiotics, Daniela, and then re-test in a month.”
“This wasn’t my fault, Papa.”
His rage takes over his demeanor.
I’m right. It’s not my fault.
But that’s not how he sees it.
“You will pay the price for this,” he says. “A month. After a month of punishment, you’ll be begging to go back to entertaining my associates.”
* * *
Present Day…
Hawk wipes a tear from my eye. “Honey, what’s the matter?”
“I’m sorry. I just… The talk of vaccines.”
“What about it?”
“It made me think of…things.”
“What things?”
I shake my head. “I can’t talk about it. Not here, anyway.”
He glances toward the door. “We can go.”
“No. No. You need to be with your brother.”
He looks back at Eagle. “If you’re worried about him overhearing you, he can’t.”
“No, it’s just… It’s a hospital room. We need to…get rid of that,” I glance at the bouquet.
He nods. “Done.” He takes the bouquet and leaves.
He’ll be back soon.
Or he should be.
But time ticks by.
A minute.
Two minutes.
Five.
Ten.
My heart is pounding so hard, I’m worried it’ll break a rib. I’m about to go to hospital security when—
“Where have you been?” I nearly shout at Hawk when he returns.
“I’m sorry, baby. I took the flowers down to the truck.”
“Why didn’t you just throw them out?”
“Because they might contain clues.”
“Oh. Right.” I’m not thinking clearly.
“We can talk later,” he says. “When I take you home.”
I draw in a breath. “No. I’ll talk now. Like you said, Eagle can’t hear me, and this is about as private as we’ll get in a hospital.”
“Okay. You can tell me anything, you know.”
I nod.
Can I though?
Tell him I was dirtied up by chlamydia?
Tell him about my babies—the babies I wanted so badly but was forced to kill?
Tell him that I’ll never be able to have more babies?
How?
How can I tell him any of that?
“Dani, baby,” he says again. “Please. Talk to me.”
I take a deep breath, the sterile hospital scent filling my nostrils. “Okay,” I whisper, summoning the courage to let him in on my darkest secrets.
It starts as a trickle, words spilling from my lips slowly.
I tell him about my father, about the men he forced on me.
I tell him about the chlamydia, about how I contracted it.
I leave out the details of my father’s punishment.
Some details are too grisly for any person to have to hear.
I watch his face carefully as I speak, gauging his reaction.
Hawk just stares at me, his eyes never leaving mine. He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t ask questions. He just listens, his face betraying nothing of what he might be thinking. The steady beep of Eagle’s heart monitor is the only sound in the small room.
I have to tell him the rest.
About my babies.
How my father forced me to terminate the pregnancies and then finally forced me to get my tubes tied.
But how?
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “There’s something else,” I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper.
His gaze softens. “You can tell me anything, Dani.”
I swallow hard, forcing down the lump in my throat. “I was pregnant. Three times,” I manage to get out, my voice trembling. “My father forced me to…” I take a shuddering breath, unable to continue. The memory is too painful, too raw.
Hawk’s eyes widen slightly, but he remains silent, waiting.
“He forced me to get rid of them,” I whisper. The room feels suddenly cold, the steady beeping of the heart monitor echoing eerily. “And then… And then he forced me to get my tubes tied.”