We land just as morning begins to light the sky, splashing colours of orange and red across the clouds while we descend. I lean as much as I dare in my seat, trying to see where we are. I woke up several minutes ago, completely disoriented, without a clue as to how long we've been flying. I know I can't ask Andres where our destination is. One glance at him tells me he has sunk into a deep, angry silence. I'm not willing to draw his attention back to me. Not yet.There's too much cloud cover for me to see where we are. The plane lands with a bounce and swiftly taxis to a stop. Before I have a chance to move, Andres unbuckles my seatbelt and pulls me out of my chair. I lurch to my feet and follow him to the door, smothering a yawn.A flight attendant stands beside the airplane door, awaiting the pilot's go ahead to open it. She glances at me, disdain bright in her pretty blue eyes as she sweeps a glance over me from head to toe, stopping on my bare feet. I narrow my eyes, giving her m
I barely have a minute to pull myself together before he strides back through the door. Maybe if I'd had longer, I would've been up and off the floor, looking for another way out. I know no matter what I do I won't get away from Andres; he's far too big, strong and skilled. But my survival instinct is kicking in. I don't want to die here. I don't want to die at all!I huddle against the wall and try to stop the sobs spilling uncontrollably from my lips as he walks past me with a couple of bags. "Get up," he growls as he walks by.When I don't move he transfers one of the bags to his other hand and grabs my arm, dragging my off the floor. I gasp and flail around for balance, half falling against the wall. He doesn't seem to notice or care as he starts walking again, continuing through the house with me in tow. I stumble behind him, exhausted and frightened of what might come next. I lift a hand to my throat, which is sore and bruised.The house is small and dusty but cozy. It's a bad
The cool water hits my body, shocking me. I swipe at the tears and try to take calming breaths, shivering under the cold spray. Gradually the sobs die away and the tightness in my chest begins to ease. I cross my arms over my chest, my fingers wrapped around each bicep and I drop my head, allowing the water to rain down over my head. Even cold, it's better than nothing. This is what I do when whenever the world feels like it's closing in, like it's becoming too much for me. I stand in the shower and allow it to wash away my burdens. I cry out my misery and loneliness where only the water can hear. Only Andres knows my secret. He knows that I seek the comfort of water when I'm sad. Did he do this on purpose? Bring me to the shower when I was at my lowest point because he knew it would bring me comfort? I'm reminded of my mother's death three years ago, the helpless misery I felt as I watched her fade as cancer ate away at her. Each day I would make the trek home from the hospital and
Her dark brown, almost black glittering eyes stare up at me like open wounds. She doesn't want to die, she doesn't want me to torture or hurt her. But she made her choice. There's no going back for either of us.I place her arm gently on the bed, cover her and turn away, leaving the room. I need space from her for a few minutes. Now that I have my wife at my mercy, I'm at war with myself. I want to punish her, fuck her… fuck her up. Break her, hurt her, tear her apart with my bare hands. But even the small amount of damage I've done makes me sick to my soul. Brings back the demons I've spent years chasing away.I stalk into the living room, stare around for a moment, consider throwing myself into the chair while I wait for her to rise. To come to me with her weak explanations and excuses. But I know I can't be this close to her right now. I'm at risk of finishing it. Of killing her before she gives me what I need. Restitution for destroying my entire world. I will have my pound of fl
I give my head a slight shake and put my spoon in the bowl, tasting the surprisingly good soup. It's basic canned chicken gumbo, but she's added some kind of seasoning to spruce it up. The beans go oddly well with it and fill my empty belly. I finish my plate, help myself to the leftovers and eat until I'm satisfied. I drain my glass of juice, enjoying the sweet, slightly tart taste. Only after I've set the glass on the table do I remember that I've hurt her arm. I open my mouth to ask about the injury, but I stop myself. I don't want to give her the impression that I care more than I should, give her hope. She can't build the expectation that our interlude here will end in any way other than her death. The bleak thought dampens the pleasantly full feeling of our meal. My gaze lingers on her arm, but I can't tell if it's bothering her. Her flawless Latina skin is covering any bruising that might be there and it doesn't look swollen. If the injury pains her then she's hiding it. I sho
He understands!Hope flares to brilliant life deep within me. My knees fold and I fall into his arms in an awkward heap. He catches me easily and holds me against his chest, pressing me tight against his heart, his hand at the back of my head. I sob into his neck, clinging to his shoulders. I do everything I've been longing to do. I breathe him in, taking in his familiar scent, loving that he smells like himself, even through so much time away from home.He rocks me in his lap for as long as I need, until I'm calm enough to talk more rationally. Then, with long, anxious pauses to check his expression, I talk to him. I tell him why I left. "You'd been gone for weeks longer than you were supposed to on that last job, your men had returned but you were nowhere in sight. I… I know you promised you wouldn't touch the drug again, but when I hadn't even heard from you, not even a single word…""You should have trusted me, Luna." His voice is hard and I shiver a little. I nod, silently curs
Do it now. While she's helpless, while she is lulled into a sense of peace. Do what you must before awareness returns with the understanding that nothing has changed.She sits on my lap, her back pushed against my chest, seeking comfort in the warmth of my body. Her tears have stopped and she's fallen asleep, her breath caressing the hairs on my arm. Her fingers are entwined with mine. Beautiful long fingers beneath my thick, barbaric hand. A hand that has done so much damage.I lift my left hand and brush the hair from her face and neck. My wedding band glints in the rays of the sun filtering through the dusty window. Luna sighs, a soft trickle of warm air leaving her lush lips and raising goosebumps over the arm holding her head up. I trail my fingers down the side of her neck. Her head falls back into the crook of my right arm, giving me access to her fragile throat, as though inviting me to take the life that must be sacrificed.Something pricks at my eyes and it takes me a moment
I wake up alone surrounded by shadows. I bolt upright, clutching a blanket against my chest because I don't recognize anything. Remembrance returns slowly along with aching pain throughout my body, particularly my arm. I'm thirsty but the terrible swollen pain in my throat tells me that a drink will be agony. I push a hand through my hair, fingering the knots from the long strands. I wonder what time it is. Normally I would check my phone, but that's definitely not an option since I left my phone in Mexico and the burner phone in Cuba. I don't feel very rested or refreshed so I know I haven't slept for long. A shudder runs through me as I think about what Andres did to me. I understand why he did it, but the pain of it is so overwhelming I can feel my mind trying to fold. My husband tried to kill me. He wrapped his hand around my throat, held me down and squeezed the breath from my body. For those few moments he put his cartel, his brothers, his birthright above me. He put me in my