16
I'm back again.
As soon as Mateo enters the hall, he drags me towards the bedroom on the first floor.
I shiver and grab the handrail of the stairs. "My mom is really sick, please let me go."
"Do you think you still have any credibility with me?" Mateo grabs my waist, drags me into his bedroom, and locks the door.
I scream and grab Mateo's hand.
He pulls my hair forcefully and presses me onto the bed like a black panther tearing its prey. His broad palms almost crush my ribs.
Mateo's hands are full of predatory malice as he tears open my shirt and bites every inch of skin on my chest. "Is this how Lincoln touches you?"
Of course not.
He is not a beast. My fingertips clutch the bedsheet tightly, feeling like a piece of meat being torn apart.
My pants are ripped off as well. The coolness in my lower body makes me struggle abruptly, and I earn a slap in response.
I suddenly realize how wrong I was before—our problems were never about any woman. Mateo always uses violence to solve problems, or maybe he doesn't want to solve them at all.
In his world, all the rules should be set by him, and everyone must revolve around him like stars around the sun.
I also think of my mother. She said I am still young and shouldn't trap myself in a cage.
As Mateo starts to unbuckle his belt, my eyes are drawn to the glass lamp on the bedside table.
He pounces on me, pinning me down. I stare at the white ceiling, reaching for the lamp, and then firmly grasp it in my hand.
I originally intend to smash it directly on Mateo's head but hesitate and instead aim for his back.
Crash.
The lamp shatters in two. He looks up at me, eyes filled with disbelief.
I push him away, grab a large shard of the lamp, and hide at the head of the bed.
Mateo climbs up, frowning, and curses hoarsely, "How dare you? We are married, how dare you?!"
"It doesn't count," I answer softly.
We live under the same roof, yet we are the most unfamiliar people in the world.
What makes humans unique is their use of tools. I tried to use the glass lamp to bridge the gap in strength between men and women, but Mateo seems unscathed. I've only angered him, putting myself in a more dangerous situation.
Mateo suddenly chuckles. "Are you staying chaste for Lincoln?"
He circles the end of the bed, getting closer to me. "Do you love him that much?"
My mind goes blank. Instinctively, I press the shard against Mateo's bare chest. The sharp edge leaves a thin red line on his skin before he snatches it away.
"But does Lincoln love you?" Mateo encircles me with his arms and whispers in my ear, "If he loves you, why hasn't he come to rescue you after you've been gone for so long?"
Something drips onto my face.
I look up to see Mateo's forehead covered in sweat, beads rolling down his cheeks, gathering at his chin, and falling as larger drops.
He stands up, swaying slightly like a stalk of wheat in the wind, then suddenly collapses.
The room falls silent.
I turn to see the bed and floor covered in shards of glass. Gathering my courage, I lean over the bed's edge.
Mateo lies on the ground, unconscious. When I hit him with the lamp, some glass pieces remained in his body. Blood is slowly and evenly seeping out, dripping onto the carpet.
"Go to hell. Just go to hell!" In the terrifying silence, I muster infinite courage.
"I'm not the only one forced into this marriage. I'm just a pawn in this game. Why do you keep bullying me? Why do you keep bullying me?!"
I kick him while crying.
I wasn't the first to cheat; besides, Lincoln is a thousand times, no, ten thousand times better than Mateo.
"He saved my mother, and I'm willing to give him my body. I was also willing to give my body to you, but you didn't want it."
I get tired of kicking and sit on the carpet, talking to Mateo's unresponsive body, "I only have my mom left. Why won't you let me see her? Why?"
The sky outside is gloomy, as if it wants to swallow everything into the clouds.
I turn my head to look at the full-length mirror in the bedroom and see Mateo lying on the floor as if he were dead.
I wipe away my tears and, barefoot, walk through the glass debris to call the butler to summon an ambulance.
Mateo seems especially unlucky this year; having just been discharged from the hospital, he is sent back again.
And I am completely trapped in the old mansion. All the doors are guarded by security 24/7, and I cannot take a single step outside.
I go to find the butler, who respectfully informs me that this is Mr. Mateo's order.
I rephrase my question and ask when I will be able to leave. The butler respectfully replies that I must wait for Mr. Mateo's decision.
My phone is confiscated, and all the phone lines in the mansion are cut off. I am completely isolated.
The only time I have contact with the outside world is due to an injury on my foot. Glass shards are embedded in my foot, and a family doctor comes to treat it.
I sit on the edge of the bed, my foot on a stool, as the doctor uses a fine needle to remove the glass, then disinfects and bandages the wound.
"They are illegally detaining me. Can you help me call the police?" I ask softly.
Doctors are supposed to be angels in white, with kind hearts.
But he looks at me expressionlessly, picks up his medical kit, and walks out the door.
Scum.
I curse him quietly and fall back onto the bed in despair.
I slowly drift into sleep, dreaming of my mother and then, Lincoln.
He smiles and says he was just playing a love game with me.
He says my body isn't particularly hot, I'm not great in bed, and my personality is awkward.
Having sex in the hospital was a thrilling idea, but since I disagreed, he had to find another woman willing to play such games with him.
Anyway, he achieved his goal. As he frankly told me from the beginning, he wanted to seduce me to anger his brother.
Saving my mother and sending her to a better nursing home were just means to get me into bed.
To him, it's the same as buying a bag for a woman or taking a woman to a Michelin restaurant.
I wake up abruptly, drenched in sweat.
The sky outside remains gloomy, the air humid. I feel like a goldfish in a glass tank.
I hop to the window on one foot to look at the garden below. The garden is quiet, with no vehicles driving in, no sign of a silver Bentley.
I finally realize I have been deceived by Lincoln.
Did he personally tell Mateo about our affair?
No, it might be worse. When Lincoln and I slept together, I was still a virgin. He would see that thin membrane as a trophy and flaunt it to Mateo, "Brother, my sister-in-law is brand new, the seal was still intact. But no worries, since you're not using her, I've used her for you. You're welcome."
I lie back on the bed and continue sleeping.
When I wake again, it is already dark. A servant has been by, placing a steaming meal on the nightstand.
I have no appetite. I feel sticky from sweating, so I hop to the bathroom to take a bath.
I sit in the bathtub, resting my injured right foot on the edge, and start the water.
Steam gradually fills the space.
I zone out in the mist, then evenly apply shower gel to every inch of skin except my right foot.
Even in dire situations, a person must not give up on him or herself—this is what my mother taught me.
Although she has been ill for many years, every time I visit her, she always keeps her hair and body clean and her clothes neat.
The door outside opens, and footsteps follow.
I hold my breath, hearing the footsteps speed up and walk toward the bathroom.
The bathroom door is flung open, and a maid's panicked face appears in front of me.
"What are you doing?" I frown.
"Mrs. Ali—" The maid's tense facial muscles relax slightly, "Do you need help with your bath?"
"Get out."
"Your foot is injured—"
"Get out!"
Only after the door closes again do I realize why she was so anxious. They fear I might commit suicide.
But I am not that kind of person.
I would only smash a glass lamp at someone else when my life is threatened, not at myself.