“What happened then?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what the turning point was. I don’t know if the milestone somehow made him think he’d finally ‘gotten’ me or what, but it was right after that when he hit me the first time. It was over something stupid, too. I’d questioned the dress he’d picked out for me. It was really revealing and I didn’t feel comfortable wearing it in front of his business associates. He’d backhanded me across the face for questioning him, then told me to Put the fucking dress on.”
“So you did.”
“So I did.” And he’d paraded me around half-naked to men with leering eyes who made all that exposed skin feel slimy, who made my stomach flip over.
In bed that night, after our first sexual encounter that felt a lot like it had with my marriage, he’d pulled me to his chest and asked me why I made him hit me, why I’d emasculated him, why I’d hurt him that way.
And so the cycle started.
Prolonged periods of relative peace, followed by an outburst that left me bleeding or with scars. Immediately after would be the shift of blame for the incident and then a period of love-bombing.
“Until, eventually, he didn’t feel the need to even bother with the love-bombing anymore. He had me. He knew he did. There was no way for me to get away.”
“By the time you realized what was going on…” Cary said, waving a hand out.
“Exactly. There was nothing I could do.”
“When did you realize it?”
“Honestly? I’m not sure there was one moment of clarity. I think it was like waking up from a really deep sleep. I noticed things little by little.”
Like the fact that there weren’t just guards stationed around the house to look for threats. No. I had my own team. Who watched everything I did, then reported it all back to Raúl. Who would then punish me for anything he didn’t like.
Like there were cameras all around. In places where there didn’t need to be cameras. Like my room. Like my bathroom.
I never got a moment of peace.
Eyes were always watching me.
“And then I tried to test my theory,” I admitted.
A part of me had been so sure it was just paranoia, that I was losing my mind a little to be thinking so many conspiracy theories about this man that I thought I loved, that I thought loved me.
But then I tried to walk down the driveway one day.
Not only had guards closed in, but they’d called Raúl home.
“I’d been quick enough to spin a story about how I was just trying to take a walk, that I thought I needed some more fresh air and exercise.” I even told him that I wanted to get more fit to please him, though I felt a little too disgusted at that to even admit it to Cary. “But it confirmed my growing fears.”
I tested it a few more times over the next months and years, finding that with each attempt, Raúl seemed to get more and more suspicious of me. Which made him watch me even more, which made his disapproval and punishments of me ever-more severe.
“Sometimes there wasn’t even a cause anymore. He just used me to vent his frustration.”
“I’m sorry, love. No one should have to go through that.”
My gaze darted down to my plate as my eyes started to glisten.
God, how long had it been since anyone had shown me a shred of kindness? A drop of sympathy?
Too long.
Hell, maybe no one ever had.
“It got bad enough that I started to plan an escape. It took a long time. In movies and TV, they always make it seem so easy to monitor the comings and goings of guards, figuring out the cameras, getting the timing perfect. In reality, it took me months for each task.”
I carefully stored away all the information, repeating it over and over to myself so I didn’t forget a single thing since I couldn’t write anything down.
“But then it started to occur to me how difficult it would be to get out of Mexico. Let alone away from him for good. Raúl might not have ever loved me the way I thought he had, but he absolutely saw me as his. He could never allow me to get away. It would be a weakness for him.”
“Wish I could say you were wrong, but I don’t think you are. Seems to be that way with a lot of the organized crime syndicates. They like absolute control. And appearances are important to them. They can’t show any sign of weakness. Losing your woman would be a sign of weakness to them. As asinine as that is.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I could feel it within hours of getting out of there. Eyes everywhere. I know that sounds like paranoia, but…”