Falling With Grace

“Where is Andrés?”

The notorious cartel boss stepped toward me, his hand wrapping around my ankle, and then dragged me to the wall.

I squealed, my nails digging into the floor, each chipping and tearing.

Chains clinked together behind me, and a hard shackle snapped around the ankle he held.

“Where is Andrés?”

He stepped back, his hands tucked into his pockets.

Bleach stung my nose as I stared at his boots, the small metal drain in the floor shining as though it’d just been polished.

Panic clawed at my chest, my throat closing.

“I can’t…” I shook my head. A tear slipped down my cheek as I pulled on the shackle.

“You can. Just tell me.” His voice softened. “End all of this now.”

My body trembled against the cold floor, my breaths ragged as my heart panged against my ribcage in a desperate attempt to stay conscious, my head shaking side to side.

I’m trapped…again.

Darkness envelops me, filled with men’s laughter—their hands grope at my breasts and pull on my pants.

A sickness lines my belly, and I vomit all over thefloor beside me.

The acrid stench of stomach acid and half-digested food remains in the air.

My mind dissolves into fragments as they have their way with me.

“Then you’ll stay here until you do.”

Elias pulled the string on the light, drawing me back into the here and now, then slammed the heavy door shut, drowning me in pitch-black darkness.

I let loose a cry, my throat hoarse, my newfound chains rattling.

I was a ghost bemoaning my existence—a captive of my own making.

13

Grace

Clack.

Thud.

Clack.

The repetitive pacing moved from one end of my darkened shed to the next, like clockwork, as if it counted down the days to my execution—which would no doubt be my fate.

The man, who’d been stationed at my door for the last few days, pivoted, then marched in the opposite direction, each booted step blocking the staggered light breaching the slight crack at the bottom.

Each foot passing sent a small breeze billowing through, which caressed the sweat lining my brow.

My sweat soaked my clothing, leaving me as wet now as I was when I came in.

“Quítate.”