Dirty Promises

He was baiting me, getting me to snap back, to say something that would give him an excuse to beat me, even though he could find an excuse in anything. I had to literally bite my tongue, thick and swollen from lack of water, to prevent myself from saying what I really wanted to. Esteban must have grown up so damn jealous of everyone around him that it didn’t matter what sex you were, he wanted what you had and he felt entitled to take it.

“It’s not fair, Luisa,” he said and now his voice was cracking with anger. “It’s not fair that you got to have everything you did. And loving parents too? How fucking dare you!” He paused then took in a deep breath. When he spoke again, he was calmer. Ice. “I took Javier away from you. I took your cartel, your purpose. I’ll take your parents soon, too. But now, tonight, I’m taking away something you never deserved to have. Your beauty.”

My eyes widened as I heard the sharp scrape of rusty scissors being yanked open.

“Now are you going to be a good little girl or what?” he asked as he ran blindly forward, his footsteps echoing loudly.

I moved as quickly and quietly as I could, willing myself not to panic, to make noise, but it was hard when he yelled, “Where are you, you little bitch!?” and began to run around the edge of the room.

I heard him bump into the bed, swearing and grunting angrily, too close now for comfort. I had to run for it.

I started for the door, guided by the light underneath it and went for the lock. My hands groped for it, my heart on fire and nerves alight as panic threatened to consume me. I clumsily found the handle, then tried to place where the lock would be but by the time my fingers closed over it, it was too late.

Esteban was behind me and stabbed the scissors down into my shoulder, slicing through flesh, muscle, bone. An image of the chicken I ate flashed in my eyes, the way their bones could break, but it also reminded me of what I had in my hands.

Instead of screaming, I took that energy in and whirled around stabbing wildly with my spear, hoping to get him in the face. The end of it went into a soft spot of skin, maybe the lower throat and he let out an enraged yelp as it stuck in.

Before I could do anymore damage, he decked me in the face until I flew back against the wall, my face exploding in stars of pain.

I wouldn’t let it keep me down. I scrambled to all fours, staying low and went at him, going for where his legs should be. One knee grazed my chin but I was able to wrap my hands around the other one, my nails turning into makeshift claws and I dug them into his skin as deep as possible. He screamed and tried to shake me off but not before I jerked my head down and bit into the back of his calf, tearing my teeth in, wanting to take out a chunk.

I had become a feral, wild beast.

I had to do everything to survive.

I felt the blood run down my chin, tasted his tainted flesh. I was holding on tight, digging my incisors in, more, more, more, but then his hand was in my hair and he was yanking me back away from him until I was on my back on the floor.

Everything spun but I knew I couldn’t let it stop me. I tried to get back up but then his elbow was driving down into my collarbone, trying to break it and his other hand was repeatedly banging my head into the floor.

“You fucking bitch, you fucking bitch!” he kept muttering over and over again like a man possessed, until finally he stopped. I couldn’t even move. I felt completely paralyzed from the head down, a sitting fucking duck who was about to have her own feathers plucked.

He briefly crawled off of me, heading across the room and that’s when I knew I had to run again, I could try again to escape, and if I got to the door, it was unlocked and I would make it out.

I was so close.

But I couldn’t. I didn’t know what he had done to me but I just couldn’t move a muscle, no matter how hard I fought past the haze, no matter how hard I concentrated, willing my body to respond.

It felt as dead as the rest of me.

I’d never been more frightened, more helpless, more alone, in all my sorry life.

I hadn’t wanted to cry at all with Esteban, I told myself I wouldn’t shed one tear in front of him. I wouldn’t give him the pleasure of what he was doing to me.

But now, now the fear was so real as I lay there, naked and broken in the darkness, bleeding, paralyzed. It came for me at once and the tears fell from my eyes, sliding down the sides of my face to the floor.

I was so sad. So damn sad.

This was how I was going to die and I was going to suffer for a long time before I did.

At least I tried.

I tried.

I fucking tried to live, I tried my damn hardest.

I made a million and one mistakes but I still tried.

God, I wished I didn’t have to die alone and in pain.

I wished Javier was here with me.

I tried to bring the image of him in my vision. Like the feather against my skin, I hoped it would trick me enough to bring me strength to die with dignity, to endure what horror was to come. I hoped it would erase the fear. The sorrow that filled me up, a well of seeping black drops.

Then a light went on in my face, my eyes squeezed shut in response and Esteban chuckled.

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