Falling With Grace

My heart thunders in my ears as the point touches my skin, my hands tugging on the restraints.

A grotesque symphony of steel, flesh, and my screams echo through the room.

He drags the knife from shoulder to shoulder, my skin splitting with subsequent ease. His laughter weaving its malevolent symphony into each cut, my skin his canvas of crimson rivers.

The metallic perfume of blood intermingles with the stale air, a nauseating aroma of suffering.

My shrieks muffle the door slamming against the wall, his laughter stifled.

A single tear dropped to the floor, splattering across the marble like my blood-soaked sheets.

My hands quivered against my chest as I squeezed my eyes shut. Nausea churned in my belly.

He’s not going to win.

I worked past it the best I could.

I moved on.

And now this…

I rose on unsteady legs, the shelves laden with items not my own glaring at me.

Wiping the tears from my cheeks with a trembling grunt, I sniffled and threw my sweaty pajama shirt back over my head, hiding from the world for a split second it took to pull it down.

There was time for a shower, after all.

I showered and donned the brown short-sleeve tunic blouse I had cast aside before Elias witnessed the worst of me. Pairing it with blue jeans and tucking Jorge’s rosary inside the pocket, I descended the stairs with bare feet padding against the marble.

“It’s been an hour.”

I spun around.

Elias stood with his arms crossed and his shoulder leaning against the doorway. His tan dress pants hugged his thighs, and his white polo accentuated his biceps and chest.

“I…” Running my fingers through my damp hair, I looked beyond him into a craft room Rosa used for her puzzle. “I decided to take a shower first.”

“Hmm.” He tipped his head back as he hummed. “Come. You can explain a few things to me while you eat.”

“Explain a few things?”

He crossed the kitchen, and I followed, studying him. He opened the refrigerator, took out a covered plate, and then popped it into the microwave.

“Mamá would have my hands if she saw me using this on herHuevos Rancheros.”

“How else are you supposed to heat them back up?”

I plucked a grape from the vine resting in a basket adorning the counter and bit it in half. Elias pivoted, placing his hands on the counter, his rear against the edge.

His intent gaze lingered on my lips from across the kitchen, his eyebrows furrowing as I chewed.

“You eat it cold, I imagine.” His gravelly voice sent shock waves down my belly. “I’ve never had them any other way but fresh.”

“Eggs cold?” I shuddered and feigned a gag. “That sounds like a new form of torture.”

A smile tugged at his lips, lifting the corners as he chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I gulped and chewed the other half of the grape. “Is Nadia around?”