Twelve
Carmen
Even in the blackness, I found no peace.
My unconscious body remained still atop the trap house bathroom floor, my sweat and grime-covered limbs unmoving.
Yet, despite my body’s state, the darkness inside me still whirled with the strength of a mighty hurricane, conjuring one memory-fueled nightmare after another, evoking endless fear and uncontrollable panic in my forced sleep.
Both wept from my pores as I fought to wake myself and halt the headfirst descent I was taking into my own personal hell, a raging inferno where my demons reigned, and my soul would bleed.
Unfortunately for me, it was a battle I lost.
And into the fiery flames of my past, I fell.
Sixteen Years Before
Hours after having what remained of mi familia ripped from me, and with mi madre’s dried blood still coating my shaking hands, I stood before Carlos Melendez in one of the many bedrooms comprising his grande estate, my body trembling uncontrollably thanks to the icy chill of grief that slithered through my veins.
Dressed in a white linen suit that likely cost more pesos than most in Medellin earned in a year, the bastardo himself towered over me, his evil eyes perusing every inch of my bared skin as the priceless pageant gown Mamá had spent months sewing by hand laid pooled at my feet.
Thanks to the demonio standing inches away, his chest rising and falling as he took inventory of my shaking body, the pink fabric had been reduced to tattered pieces, none of which would ever be whole or beautiful again.
Same as I.
Heart brimming with pain so sharp that simply breathing was almost impossible, tears filled my swollen eyes as my new reality, one which I’d been forced into by a man as psychotic as he was rich, began to unfold.
“Give me your eyes, mi hermosa.”
Stricken with terror but filled with defiance, I refused Carlos’s softly spoken command. Despite the inevitable pain I’d undoubtedly be forced to endure for such a refusal, I would not be brought to heel so easily by the monster who’d indirectly killed my parents, stolen my brother, and turned my dreams to dust.
The consequences for my actions be damned.
Gaze locked on the open collar of my captor’s expensive shirt, I stared at his smooth, pale skin as the smell of his expensive—and nauseating—designer cologne invaded my senses.
Stomach already rolling, I almost vomited.
At my failure to obey, Carlos clucked his tongue in disapproval. “Disobedience has consequences, ángel.”
His voice remained calm even though the pulse point at the base of his throat throbbed as either anger or excitement bathed his insides, fueling his sadistic urges and awakening the evil that his soul harbored.
My hands curled into fists as he stepped closer and pressed the tip of the knife he held in his hand to my chest, digging the blade into my sensitive skin.
It was the same one he’d used to cut away my dress and panties minutes before, baring my naked form to him for the first time.
Though my soul screamed in outrage at such a move, my body remained paralyzed with fear, despite the fact that I wanted nothing more than to rip the weapon out of his hand and slam it into his throat, followed by his chest.
El hombre deserved nothing less than death.
“You belong to me now, Miss Colombia.” The arrogance in his tone boiled my blood, snuffing out the iciness freezing me from the inside out. “And as my property, I will punish you each time you fail to do as you’re told.”
To my dismay, my shoulders hunched, showcasing my fear as he moved even closer and dropped his forehead to mine, bathing my naked skin in unwelcome heat.
“Do you understand?”
More silence.
Body flinching before I could stop it, I jerked the slightest bit when he dug the knife further into my skin as punishment—the first of many I’d suffer at his hands—and pulled it down, tearing my flesh for the first time. My bottom lip trembled as warm droplets of blood slid down my breast, before descending onto my flat, quivering belly.
“Give me your eyes.”
Readying myself for more pain, I squared my shaking shoulders and straightened my spine as I, once again, rebelled against his command.
For a moment, I felt strong.
Victorious even.
Too bad the triumphant feeling didn’t last.
A crack resounded through the room when Carlos quickly lifted his free hand and brought it down across the side of my face, backhanding me so hard that my two of my back teeth cracked, while another loosened in its socket.
Losing my footing, I tumbled to the floor, busting my shoulder and head against the expensive marble.
Giving me no time to scream, much less recover enough to fight back, the bastardo wrapped a hand into my hair and fisted my long locks before using them to drag me across the room to where a wall comprised of tinted, floor to ceiling windows awaited us.
Adrenaline kicking in, I clawed at his hands as he slammed my forehead into the glass, splitting my flesh and sending jolts of pain careening through my skull.
Blood trickling down my busted face, my chest heaved as I pulled in a lungful of oxygen. “Let go of me!” I screamed. “If you don’t, I will kill—”
My words were cut off when he jerked me to my feet, nearly ripping my hair from my scalp, and maneuvered himself behind me before pinning the front of my body to the chilled glass. Bringing his knife to my throat, he rested the sharp blade against my carotid artery.
His warning was clear.
“You may care little about your life,” he growled, beads of his sweat dripping onto my neck as his erection dug into my lower back. “But I was informed that you value his greatly.”
He lowered his head, hovering his lips next to my ear. “Look at the boy before you.”
Knees shaking and then giving away, I would’ve collapsed if Carlos hadn’t been holding me up when my eyes landed on Alejandro through the glass.
At the sight of him, my chest ached.
Mightily so.
Ignoring the physical pain swamping
