Finding Forgiveness

As he reached for the buckle of his pants, a whimper bubbled at my throat and lurched out.

He slammed a hand onto my throat so tight that I couldn’t breathe before he went back to unzipped his pants.

The tequila and an extreme lack of oxygen made me feel dizzy and weak. I hardly even remember him removing my panties. Only the excruciating pain that followed.

He finally let me breathe and I let out a choked sob as he spread my legs apart with his hands and forced himself inside.

After letting out a deep moan, he positioned his hands on my hips as I through my head back already drowning in my own tears.

I wanted nothing more than anything to be home. With Leo, with my children. Or just literally anywhere away from Andrea and away from this situation. The feeling of helplessness and powerlessness was overwhelming and I couldn’t handle it. There was nothing I could say or do, it was already happening and nothing was going to change that.

If this is what I have to do to stay alive, I think I’d rather be dead.

The next morning, the sky was thick with cloud and the air dank and clingy. Through an open window, the humid smell of the rainforest drifted in and settled in the bedroom.

Andrea was gone.

I didn’t know where and frankly, I didn’t care. It gave me the opportunity to get up and rid myself of him in a cold shower. I sat on the floor underneath the shower faucet and let the water fall onto my head and drip down my back. As I pulled my knees into my chest, I watched it disappeared in a neat stream down the drain in the corner of the shower.

I stayed there until the coldness of the water chilled me to the bone at which point I turned off the water leaving me in the silence of the bathroom.

A few more minutes later, I brought myself to stand up and wrap a towel around my self. After wiping the steam from the mirror, I caught sight of my reflection. My hair was in a wet tangled mess, my eyes dark from hardly sleeping for the last few days and my face and arms covered in various bruises.

I sighed and looked away, unable to bear looking at myself in such a state.

It was two days before Andrea returned. I’d spent most my time sitting in the garden, under the same large tree staring out into the jungle or plucking the grass with my fingers. Chico always lurked around me but never said a single word. Occasionally, he’d thrust some food in my direction that I’d refuse to eat but most of the time we just coexisted together, both awaiting Andrea’s return.

He arrived at just before midday whilst I was still lying silently in the bed, unable to bring myself to move. After speaking in Spanish to Chico for a while, he came straight upstairs.

The bedroom door opened and I rolled over to face away from him. I didn’t want to see his face, not even for a second.

“I hear you haven’t eaten,” he said.

I didn’t reply.

“Ella,” he replied deeply. “Don’t ignore me.”

“I’m not hungry,” I said eventually.

“Whatever,” he grumbled before I heard his footsteps near me. “But this is for you.”

I looked up to what he was handing me. It was a small box, the writing was in Spanish but inside were packets of pills.

For the first time in two days, I looked up into his eyes and raised an eyebrow, “Why are you giving me this?”

“Because I don’t want no kid. Take one every morning and every night. Do not forget. Understand?” he replied.

I looked back down to the box. It was birth control. He was giving me birth control.

“You can’t force me to take birth control,” I spat.

“Oh yeah?” he replied. “But I don’t need to, Blanca. Do you want to get pregnant with my kid? What would your Alpha think about that? Huh?”This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

“Fuck you,” I said, throwing the box on the floor. I then got up and attempted to storm out of the room.

But he caught my arm and pulled me back towards him.

“You are going to take those pills and you aren’t going to question it,” he growled.

I stared him in the eye before he finally let go and walked towards the bathroom.

“And go downstairs and eat something. You’re getting skinny,” he called.

The night he got so drunk he passed out I shouldn’t have listened to Chico. I should have killed him when I had the chance.

Wanting to be as far away from him as possible, I headed downstairs and towards the garden. But as I passed through the kitchen, the most amazing smell filled my nostrils.

Chico was stood behind the stove stirring something on the hob.

“The boss wants tacos,” he said to me. “I made enough for you.”

“I’m not-”

“Just come here,” he replied after looking at the doorway, presumably to check Andrea hadn’t appeared.

I sighed and joined him by the stove, “There is little you can do about your situation,” he began picking up a taco shell, “But you still need to take care of yourself.”

He then filled it with whatever was in the pan and handed it to me.

I looked down at the steaming beef inside and the soft floury shell and smelt the spices and flavour in the air before I gave in and took a big bite.

“Good?” he asked.

I nodded closing my eyes and enjoying the tase, “So good.”

He smiled, possibly for the first time ever, and handed me a plate with three more.

“Enjoy,” he said before Andrea appeared in the kitchen, still wet from his shower and only wearing a pair of sweatpants and his face hardened again.

Andrea sat opposite me eating his tacos. He kept looking up but didn’t speak until he was finished.

“We’re going to Colombia this evening,” he said eventually. “Just you and I.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I gotta another job I want you to help me with,” he replied.

“I don’t want to be involved in any more murder,” I said. “Please-”

“Relax,” he said with a laugh. “No one’s gonna die if all goes to plan. So pack a bag. We’re going for three days.”

The only clothes I had were the ones I arrived in, a few t-shirts Andrea had leant me and underwear from the weird draw of ladies lingeries that Andrea had for some reason. So I packed what I could and I soon found myself back in the SUV, this time with Andrea driving.

“We aren’t following signs in the direction of Colombia,” I said once we got into Caracas.

“That’s because we’re making a stop first,” he replied.

“Where?” I asked.