Nausea bites my courage as reality vaporizes my zealous curiosity. I'm a naïve
young woman, a captive in the possession of a man with ungodly urges. What was I thinking? This isn’t the movie where a gallant king rescues a damsel in distress—heisthe distress. Tomás is mayhem itself.
I didn’t ask the universe for a ticket into the underworld of Colombia or for an older man to steal me from a life unlived. No, I was perfectly content learning who the real Carina should be, who the girl deserving of a fresh start would turn into.
When I was younger, I indulged in heartwarming movies alone, read hundreds of romance novels to escape rejection, and prayed for a happy ending of my own––until I realized the common denominator was a thing called fiction—they were glorified fantasies.
And I wasn’t a pretty princess living in a make-believe story. I was just a kid blighted by a facial catastrophe and ostracized from social interaction. Untrusting of every single person besides my family.
Happy endings with passionate kisses and promises of eternal love were the pathetic dreams of a child who desperately wished for a life that wasn’t her own.
My grim reality was endless days of self-loathing and torment, filled with cruel tongues and unjust inner loneliness. As fate would have it, I’ve grown into a distorted woman who fancies a narco king and his cruel whims. I shouldn’t like his poison, but I do. I’m ashamed for surrendering to him and humiliated by the lustful ache I can’t get rid of.
These feelings can’t be ordinary.
I drag a hand down my face, blowing out a muddled sigh. I’ve no one to ask if my urges are toxic. All I can do is believe the connection we have is a temporary madness.
I slowly move to an adjacent package and shake off the lid, meeting snowy crepe paper and a pale blue ditsy dress skillfully folded. Tomás has replicated the style of clothes I wore the night he cut them from me in the shower. I’m guessing he had purchased disposable dresses that would end up in tatters after he rips them from me again.
When I think about him doing just that, I get all flustered and antsy with the thrill of it. My morals really are off-kilter. In the depths of my soul, I’m enthralled by his blood-tingling danger and bulletproof composure. I crave the beast's charred aura and his masculine dominance. So what does that make me—certifiably moonstruck?
My hands fly to my temples as the room spins. A shadow creeps over the gifts bought with felonious currency when sparse clouds cover the sun beyond the windows.
I’ve made a reckless error and now I’m at his mercy. None of these items were given freely. Everything before me is a payoff. A show of his ubiquitous influence and a way to ensure loyalty. Tomás thinks he can buy my silence and threaten violence against my family as an extra measure.
My limbs tremble as I sink to the rug and clutch my stomach, unsure of what to do next. Should I try on every expensive outfit or weep for my stupidity? Perhaps I should have fought harder to escape, or defended my honor with fists and clawing nails. I didn’t, and now I’m tangled in his invisible ropes as a voluntary prisoner.
I’m such a fool.
“Niña?” Marta’s motherly voice splices through the finely woven net of gullibility sprawling from every corner of the room. “Did you get everything you need?”
I draw in my lips to stop a sob and finger the lavish lace I always dreamed I’d wear one day. “Uh-huh,” I hum out, keeping my lashes lowered and my turmoil low key.
Marta lets out a long sigh and crosses over the threshold. “Niña. It’s time to get dressed,” she scolds. “Get up.”
“I shouldn’t be here.” I blink up at her impassive expression and wipe away a solitary tear of liquid regret.
She hunkers, her breath heavy as she gingerly lowers. “Don’t question it. You’ve survived against the odds.” Her words are hushed in a bid to keep them between us.
“Are you trapped here too?” I ask, turning into her.
“No, niña.” Her head gently shakes from side to side. “I serve Tomás, because he’s family to me.”
“But these people are monsters.” I pull my knees into my chest for comfort. “He’s a monster... and I…”
Even though she chuckles, her expression remains ambiguous. “Everybody has a degree of evil inside of them. Some use it to survive, some to seek revenge, some to protect loved ones, and some to rule hostile kingdoms. Nobody is truly pure of heart.” Her voice softens. “Even monsters are capable of kindness.”
The weight of her statement crushes my lungs. I’ve only ever known unconditional love and agonizing hate. I’m attuned to the monsters lurking in my soul and blessed to know my family’s shelter of love. It appears I’ve fallen within the vast spectrum of emotions and now I’m balancing on a thin line.
As much as I want to ask her if I’m mentally damaged for wanting Tomás like I do, I can’t trust the woman. The last thing I need from her is ridicule or even pity for the path of destruction I’m crawling along under a starless sky.
“Come on.” She pats my cheek gently, keeping the deformed hand curled on her lap. “There’s cake downstairs. I heard you like sugar.” Her knees crack with the effort of standing. “I’m sure there’s something in these boxes that will make you smile.”
“Aren’t you afraid of him?” I unhook my limbs and force myself to elevate, feeling lightheaded when I straighten.
She closes her eyes briefly and when her eyelids drift open again, there’s a glaze of something unreadable. It haunts me. “Get dressed, niña.”
It would be easier squeezing blood out of a piece of his furniture. Her lips are sealed and her loyalty remains intact. She angles away from me and walks to the door. “Come down when you're dressed,” she says over her shoulder, then disappears.