“Don’t let them find out,” he insists, shaking his head. “You’re better off playing clueless. Make it your secret weapon.”
“When we came to Mexico, I thought it would be a great opportunity for me to get to know the culture personally—the people.” My chest tightens and I point my gaze down at my dirty feet. “I wish we hadn’t gotten married here now. I regret deciding on this place. I just wanted something different—exotic. Fun. Toni guaranteed fun…but he lied. He never told me anything about this.”
I feel Ronaldo looking at me, but he says nothing.
“Do you have a lot of family?” I ask.
I hear his stomach growl after I ask. He’s hungry, but refuses to eat. If he doesn’t he’ll die in here and from what I’m seeing he has way too much pride to die in a place this disgusting.
“Family,” he scoffs. “You mean traitors?”
“No…I mean family. People you can rely on. People that are probably wondering where you are right now.”
He looks at me beneath his eyelashes, his oily hair clinging to his forehead. It’s more humid in here.
I can smell myself. I smell horrible. Like I am rotting in my most delicate places.
“Family is worthless,” he grumbles. “They’ve never been there for me. It’s probably why I’m in the situation I’m in now. No arms. Losing my dignity day by day. It’s what he wanted.”
“Who?” I whisper.
“The boss.”
“Do you not know his name?”
“No. They all just call him the boss or Jefe. Never by his real name. He probably considers it a privilege for someone to call him by his given name.”
I study my chipped fingernails. “Why are you really here? What did you do?”
He doesn’t say anything for a while. I hear the water outside again, the birds cawing. Their songs are getting more and more beautiful by the hour. It gives me hope to know there is still life outside of this rank cell.
“You really want to know?” he finally asks.
And I look up, straightening my back. “Is it bad?”
He smirks. “Let’s just say I’m surprised I’m not dead yet.”
A door creaks open and then slams shut and I press my back against the wall. I look over towards the cell entrance, listening to the footsteps. They are quick and heavy.
A man with white hair finally appears. He’s skinny and tall, but his eyes are dark, beady, and distant. I can tell that, just like Axe Man, he’s lost his humanity as well. There is no compassion in those eyes. Only darkness.
“Get up,” he demands, eyeing me as he walks into the cell. He speaks in English, just like Axe Man, to my surprise.
“Why?” I mutter.
Grimacing, he bends down and snatches me up by the elbow. My body rocks unsteadily, hitting the nearest wall when he shoves me back. Pain shoots up my spine, but it’s not as harsh as the chill I feel when he steps closer to me.
“You’re a pretty one, huh?” He speaks in Spanish now, his accent heavy and thick. His breath reeks of beer and peanuts. “I would love to know how that pussy feels. I bet it’s nice and wet, right mami?”
He probably thinks I don’t understand what he’s saying. I try swallowing the bile in my throat, but it’s impossible. My mouth is so dry. I can taste the blood on my lips every time I move them. They are chapped beyond repair.
My eyes shoot over his shoulder at Ronaldo. He simply shakes his head, most likely telling me that I should say and do nothing.
“Don’t worry that tight little pussy.” He grabs my wrists and yanks me forward. The pain from the tug burns deep. I gasp as he clutches my face in hand. “I’ll let the boss have the honors before he lets us do what we want with you.” Shoving me back against the wall, he pulls out a knife and cuts through the rope. The blade is so close to my skin that I feel it’s coolness.
He watches me closely, refusing to look away. As soon as my arms are free, I slide down the wall, relieved.
I bring my hands up to study my bruised wrists. I almost want to cry because I can see whiteness beneath the cuts. I’m surprised I haven’t lost feelings in my hands yet.
The man focuses on my face. His beady eyes trace the outline of my cleavage, and then he steps closer with a sneer. “Get comfortable in here. You won’t be going anywhere for a while.”
I look away, staring at the ground. When he walks to the cell door with the rope, he locks it behind him and then walks off, but not before eyeballing me again. He still has a sly grin on his face, and seeing it makes my skin crawl.
When I hear the door slam, I finally release a breath, sliding my back down the wall as I rub my raw wrists.