“Hey!”
I see a few more men look down the hallway after my outburst. Axe Man turns and storms for the cell, yanking out his keys.
“You’ve got to pee, huh?” His Spanish voice is thick. He opens the cell with haste and I take two steps back when he walks in. He grabs my shoulder and forces me down to my knees.
I tremble madly as he unbuckles his belt and whips his cock out. I don’t know what he’s about to do, but I hope he doesn’t force it in my mouth. I swear to God I’ll bite it off if it means even the slightest hint of freedom…or an empty bladder.
I shut my eyes.
I can’t look.
“Please,” I beg. “I—I have to use the bathroom. That’s it.”
He chuckles. “Shit. So do I.” He stands in front of me, his presence overwhelming. Something hot and wet rolls from my forehead and down to my chin. It smells disgusting.
Gasping, I open my eyes and lift my hands to swipe as much of it away as I can. I see yellow droplets falling from the tip of his uncircumcised cock and my belly clenches tight.
The stench of his urine taints my body. It feels like it’s seeping into my pores, ruining everything inside me.
My heart squeezes in my chest, and the urge to punch him right in the balls is high, but I can’t in time. After he’s peed on me, he slaps a hand across my face and then roughly shoves me backwards. I can’t save myself with my wrists tied, so I collapse backward and my head hits the cold, hardwood floor.
I groan, but I am too weak to get up or even react. My head was still hurting but now it is pounding.
“Think about that the next time you need to pee.” Axe Man walks out and shuts the cell door behind him. He locks it up while glaring at me, and when he’s done I watch him disappear.
My body shakes as I draw my knees up to my chest. I rest my cheek on the cold wood, throat thickening, body quivering with nostalgia and fear.
My entire body reeks of urine. I can smell it on my lips. My eyes start to leak with unwanted tears. Angry tears. I was so shocked before that I didn’t even realize that while he peed on me, I’d already pissed myself.
And knowing that I did makes matters much worse. I reek of it all over. In my nice wedding gown. In the dress I thought was going to change my entire life. Well, let me rephrase that. It did change my life in many ways, but none of them have been for the better.
I look down at my wedding ring through blurry eyes. I’m surprised it’s still there—that they didn’t steal it away from me. Maybe they didn’t see it.
Good. They can’t take this from me too. Besides my memories, this is all I have left of Toni.
“That was just a warning,” Ronaldo murmurs. “Next time, don’t be so stupid.” I hear him slide in closer to me. “Look, you want to survive here, you keep your fucking mouth shut and do as they say. You don’t fucking speak or call for them. Don’t talk unless they tell you to. Are you trying to end up like me?” he hisses.
I avoid his eyes, staring at the gray wall across from me. My body shivers, and the ocean sounds grow louder, almost like the waves are coming closer. I try listening harder, see if there may be some gulls flying around, but I hear nothing.
It’s so quiet that it’s deafening.
My chest squeezes tight, restricting each breath that I take. Normally, I try to see the positive outcome of things. If I have an issue in life that I don’t see a way out of, I remain true to myself and keep my faith.
Well, there is no faith here. There is no mercy or love. I see that now, and I should have known that from the moment they killed Toni right in front of me.
I have to survive this. I don’t care if I have to keep fighting. I need to survive…
But right now I have to cry.
Because in this moment, I am frail.
I have been belittled.
I feel lost.
God, I am so fucking scared.
What the hell do I do now?
Chapter Three
Day 2
“Do you understand them?” My voice comes out hoarse as I focus on Ronaldo.
He side-eyes me. “Some of it. Not all.” His eyebrows dip. “Do you?”
“I am fluent in Spanish,” I murmur. “I understand everything they’re saying…but I’ll pretend I don’t for now.”
He’s intrigued to hear this. He perks up a little, picking his head up off the wall. “Who taught you?”
“My dad put me in private courses. He used to tell me, ‘Gia, we must be smart. We must know everything. We can’t second-guess. We have to feed ourselves with knowledge.’” I sigh. “I used to hate the courses he’d set up with a private tutor, especially during the summer, but it took me only one year and a half to learn. I guess it’s paid off now.”