'Christ, Blackwood, she's just a-'
'Leave her alone.'
'You're an ass sometimes, did you know that?' Spencer pushed Ana off of his lap, but not before giving her backside a vicious pinch.
John forked a bite of rice into his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and said, 'She's a child, Spencer.'
Spencer flexed his hand. 'Not the way I felt it.'
John just shook his head, not wanting to have to deal with him. 'Just leave her alone.'
Spencer stood up abruptly. 'I gotta go piss.'
John watched him leave and turned back to his supper. He'd not taken more than three bites before Ana's mother appeared at the table.
'Senor Blackwood,' she said, speaking in a mix of English and Spanish she knew he understood. 'That man-he touch my Ana. It must stop.'
John blinked a few times, trying to rid his mind of its alcoholic haze. 'Has he been bothering her for long?'
'All week, Senor. All week. She no like it. She frightened. '
John felt disgust roiling the contents of his stomach.
'Don't worry, Senora,' he assured her. 'I'll make sure he leaves her alone. She'll be safe from my company.'
The woman bowed her head. 'Thank you, Senor Blackwood. Your word comforts me.' She returned to the kitchen where, John presumed, she would spend the rest of the evening cooking.
He went back to work on his meal, downing another glass of whiskey along with it. Closer and closer to oblivion. He craved it these days. Anything to wipe his mind free of the death and the dying.
Spencer returned, wiping his hands on a towel as he entered. 'Still eating, Blackwood?' he asked.
'You always did have a penchant for stating the obvious. '
Spencer scowled. 'Eat your slop then, if that's what you want. I'm going off in search of entertainment.'
John raised a brow as if to say, 'Here?'
'This place is ripe, I think.' Spencer's eyes gleamed as he swaggered up the stairs and out of sight.
John sighed, glad to be rid of this man who had always been such an annoyance in his company. He'd never liked Spencer, but he was a decent soldier, and England needed all of those she could get her hands on.
He finished his meal and pushed the plate across the table. The food had been tasty, but nothing seemed to satisfy him anymore. Perhaps another glass of whiskey.
Oh, now he was drunk. Really drunk. There were, he supposed, still a few things for which to thank the Lord.
He let his head slump down toward the table. Ana's mother had been quite nervous, hadn't she? Her face, lined with worry and fear, floated through his mind. And Ana, poor child, she couldn't like having these men around. Especially one like Spencer.
He heard a thump come from the floor upstairs. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Spencer. Oh, yes, that's who he was thinking about.
Pain in the ass, he was. Always bothering the locals, caring for nothing but his own amusement.
Another thump.
What was that he'd said-he was going off in search of entertainment. That was rather like him.
Another odd noise-this one sounded like a woman's cry. John looked around. Didn't anyone else hear this? No one seemed to react. Maybe it was because he was closest to the stairs.
This place is ripe, I think.
John rubbed his eyes. Something wasn't right.
He stood, bracing himself against the table to ease the nausea rocking his body. Why did he have this odd sense that something was amiss?
Another thump. Another cry.
He walked slowly toward the stairs. What was wrong? The noise grew louder as he made his way along the second-floor hallway.
And then he heard it again. This time it was clear. 'Noooooooooo!' Ana's voice.
John sobered in an instant. He burst through the door, knocking it off one of its hinges. 'Oh, God, no,' he cried. He could barely see Ana, her slight form completely beneath Spencer, who was pumping relentlessly into her.
But he could hear her weeping. 'Noooo, noooo, please, noooo.'
John didn't pause to think. Crazed, he pulled Spencer up off the girl and threw him against the wall.
'What the hell-Blackwood?' Spencer's face was as mottled and red as his member.
'You bastard,' John breathed, his hand coming to rest on his gun.
'For God's sake, she's just some Spanish whore.'
'She is a child, Spencer.'
'She's a whore now.' Spencer turned around to retrieve his breeches.
John's hand tightened on his gun.
'That's all she ever would have been.'
John lifted his gun. 'His majesty's soldiers do not rape.' He shot Spencer in the ass.
Spencer howled and went down, letting loose a swift stream of expletives. John immediately went to Ana, as if there was something he could possibly do to erase her pain and humiliation.
Her face was blank. Completely devoid of expression…
Until she saw him.
She cringed. She turned away from John in horror. He staggered backward at the force of her terror. He hadn't… It hadn't been him…He'd meant to…
Ana's mother burst into the room. 'Mother of God,' she cried out. 'What is-Oh, my Ana. My Ana.' She ran to her daughter, who was now weeping uncontrollably.
John stood in the middle of the room, dazed, in shock, and still drunk with whiskey. 'I didn't… ' he whispered. 'It wasn't me.'
There was so much noise. Spencer was screaming and cursing in pain. Ana was crying. Her mother was railing at God. John couldn't seem to move.
Ana's mother turned around, her face full of more hatred than John had ever seen in a single person. 'You did this,' she hissed, and spit in his face.
'No. It wasn't me. I didn't…'
'You swore you'd protect her.' The woman seemed to be trying to restrain herself from attacking him. 'It might as well have been you.'
John blinked. 'No.'
It might as well have been you.
It might as well have been you.
It might as well…
John sat up in bed, his body soaked with sweat. Had it really been five years? He laid back down, trying to
