365 Days: Drugs, Treason And Demons

MOOD SWINGS

Everything felt different in the warm embrace of the morning sun. Everything, except that massive portrait of Pablo, which still looked as stupid as it did the night before.

The marble in the main hall sparkled with a soft golden glow, as daylight poured in through the large glass dome. All the guards were gone, aside from a couple of more casually-dressed men who'd swapped their rifles for holstered handguns, and who'd acknowledged me with a polite nod. Yesterday's display was all for show, and what a show it was.

The corridor that led from the hall to my room seemed shorter, and cozier. Part of it was because it was now free from frightening men, besides one tall bald one that stood by my door. Another part of it was that it was much more comfortable to walk down, now that my feet were free from that torture device people called "high-heeled shoes".

Most of it, though, was because I was no longer walking into the unknown, or doubting my very chances of survival. My newfound confidence gave me a surprising pep in my step, given the amount of pain I was in due to my throbbing hangover headache.

When I walked into my little bedroom, Mafer was standing by the vanity, clutching the satin sheets she'd taken off the bed. Her blue uniform brought out the bright red veins that crossed through the white of her eyes. When she saw me, she threw herself into my arms, and buried her face in my queasy stomach.

I was a little surprised by her sudden hug, although not taken aback. She was one of the sweetest, most loving people I'd ever met, and I guessed maybe she was just very excited to play Tic-Tac-Toe with me.

I picked her up and awkwardly started patting her back, before I realized her whole body was shaking and seizing. Warm tears rolled down her cheeks like a steaming waterfall.

"Mafer, is everything okay?" I asked as I stroked her silky hair.

"I saw your bed was empty," she sobbed, "I thought that he... I thought maybe something had happened to you."

I put her down slowly, and stared off into the distance. Her reaction was a sobering reminder that Pablo, despite the fact that he seemed to genuinely love me, was still a dangerous man - and every single minute I spent in his company could shave a few years off of my life expectancy.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you," I whispered. "I slept in Pablo's room."

"It's okay Seño, you don't need to apologize," she sniffled, and looked up to me with a warm, sweet smile. "I'm just happy you're fine. I take it that the date went well, then?"

"Get your notebook out," I told her softly. "And I'll tell you all about it while we play Tic-Tac-Toe."

Her reddened eyes sparkled excitedly and she immediately jumped onto her chair, settled against the wall by the side of the vanity.

Despite the headache that ripped through my temples, and the nauseating taste of wine still lingering in the back of my throat, I told her everything. Every single detail I could recall, every sentence Pablo had said. Everything, except Pablo's opinion on my hairdo.

I explained all his stupid jokes and his romantic gestures; every ingredient on the tostadas that I could remember. All the reasons he'd given me to stay, and all the things he'd done that made me want to run away. I told her about the fight, the kisses, and how in the end, Pablo was the one who didn't want to have s*x.

I described the decoration of his bedroom, which Mafer had never stepped a foot into. She told me she was assigned to the West wing, third floor; and wasn't really allowed to go anywhere else aside from the staff's quarters. She knew her friend Luisa had cleaned that room once, and Luisa had told her she was pretty sure the tiger skins were real.

I tried to get her opinion on Pablo's theories about what would happen if I ever went back to Goose Creek, but her quick, nervous glances towards the bedroom door were a good enough sign that I'd better keep quiet.

I also told her about Ana, how she'd been in the basement for two weeks and I felt quite proud that I got Pablo to take her out of there; but absolutely heartbroken that her unknowing goodbye to me was just a cacophony of confused screams.

"There were other girls?" answered a wide-eyed Mafer.

"Yes, four of us," I said with a furrowed brow. "Didn't you know?"

She slowly shook her head, and all the blood drained from my face. Maybe I shouldn't have said it - especially not out loud.

"f**k," I whispered. "Am I going to get shouted at for telling you?"

"I won't tell anyone," she smiled meekly, and a little shamefully too. "I'm not even supposed to tell anyone about you."

I didn't really know how to feel about that piece of information. The false sense of freedom I'd felt just an hour before felt like a distant memory. I was nothing but a secret, deeply buried in the house's twisting bowels, something you'd sweep under a marble spiral staircase.

"If no one is supposed to know about me, then why is he parading me around the house like that?" I wondered out loud. "What about all those bodyguards from yesterday night, do you think they know?"

Mafer shook her head.

"The rules are that we don't ask any questions, and that when we're outside, we don't speak about anything we've seen in here." she explained. "And in return, he pays the staff a lot of money."

"Just with money?" I asked. "Does it work?"

"Some of the higher-up maids are paid more than doctors," she shrugged. "No one wants to give up on that. And if we step out of line, they find out really fast."

"What happens if they find out?" I gulped.

Mafer opened her mouth to answer, but the door swung open and Pablo barged into the room with the same delicacy and refinement that had always characterized him. Like a backhoe loader in a hamster's cage, as my Mom used to say.

The loud bang of the door slamming against the bedroom wall drilled yet another hole in my tender head. Pablo's tacky outfit, matching a floral-print shirt and a pair of white swimming shorts that were far too short for my personal taste, attacked my already half-shut eyes.

I winced in pain, while Mafer cowered in fear in a corner of the room. But Pablo's radiant smile was plastered on his face, as wide as ever, framed by two deep dimples and topped up with a freshly trimmed mustache.

"Hello again, Gordita," he cheered. "And good morning, Gordita's maid."

Mafer saluted him with a polite head bow, and I with a silent glare. He bent over to drop a small pile of clothes and two small pills on top of the vanity.

"Got you some painkillers for your killer headache," he said. Before Mafer could jump out of her corner and into the bathroom to fetch me a glass of water, he added: "They work better when you let them melt under your tongue."

"You're my savior," I joked as I popped them into my mouth. They tasted dreadful, but I was more than eager to get rid of my wine-induced migraine

"I also got you this pretty dress and a brand-new, never ever worn before bikini," he grinned, "It even has those conservative granny panties, because I knew you'd shout at me if I got you anything that actually looked good."

"Thank you, Pablo," I sighed sarcastically, "How thoughtful of you."

"You don't have to wear them if you don't want to, it's just if you want to go for a swim," he pouted.

"I appreciate all this effort you're going through to try and be a good person. It must be very, very difficult for you," I mocked him.

"Aw, that's really sweet of you," he cooed, c*****g his head to the side.

One of many strange things about Pablo was that I never knew whether my sarcasm was lost on him, or if his counter-sarcasm was lost on me.

"Oh, and I got you a razor, too," he added.

"What for?" I frowned.

"A razor... is an instrument that has been used by humans for centuries. Its sharp blade is a fast, efficient and safe way to remove hair from your body."

I rolled my eyes at him.

"I know what a razor is," I groaned. "I'm just wondering if this is a snarky way of telling me I'm too hairy or something."

"I don't know if you're hairy, I haven't really checked," he shrugged. "Honestly, Gordita, I was just trying to help. I've dated women who always wanted to shave before they went to the pool. I thought maybe you would too. And because I didn't know if you had a razor, I got you a razor. That's it."

"I don't know if you're making fun of me or not," I mumbled.

"Maid," said Pablo, snapping his fingers at Mafer. "Am I going crazy or did I miss the memo that bringing your girlfriend a razor has suddenly become some kind of insult?"

Mafer turned bright red, and her lips started to tremble as she struggled to come up with an answer that would please us both.

"I'm not your girlfriend, Pablo," I protested before she could even speak.

Pablo took a deep breath and rubbed his hands down his face.

"I'll leave you ladies to overthink this on your own. I'm sorry I'm not good enough for you, Gordita," he sighed. "If you're looking for me, I'll be by the pool, meditating."

He spun around on his heels and left the room in a whirlwind, leaving both me and Mafer completely flabbergasted.

"Did I overreact?" I asked.

She shook her head no, but the way her eyebrows raised and her mouth pouted made me think she was lying to protect my feelings.

"You can be honest, you know," I sighed.

"Maybe just a little bit?" she squeaked.

I bit my lip. Here it was again, the ironic skit where the captive hurts her poor captor's feelings, and then starts feeling terrible about it.

"f**k. I'll just tell him it's because of the hangover," I muttered.

"You're not in an easy situation, Seño," she answered softly, her tiny fingers rubbing the top of my shoulder. "I don't think anyone would blame you."

"Thank you, Mafer," I smiled and sighed. "I just feel bad for getting angry over a damn razor. Even if it's at him. But he can be so damn confusing, sometimes."

"I think maybe he was just scared you'd get tangled up in his mustache," she giggled.

Blood rushed to my cheeks like water in a boiling pot.

"Mafer, what the f**k?" I whispered.

"Sorry, Seño, the things you hear in this house kind of rub off on you," she pinched her lips, and her cheeks blushed just as hard as mine, "I'll stop."

Once the initial shock had passed, I relaxed and laughed.

"Don't worry," I chuckled. "It's just that you look so innocent. I didn't expect you to be so... dirty-minded."

She smirked. This place is a madhouse, I thought. Although, I wasn't in any place to judge, after I had all but sexually assaulted Pablo the night before.

Mafer's comment also reminded me of the playful banter Ana and I used to have in high school, back when we still were best friends. Those better times were something I didn't mind being reminded of.

"I hope he's not too mad. I guess I'll get changed and go see him," I sighed, stroking the clothes Pablo had left on the table.

"He didn't seem very angry," shrugged Mafer.

"Yeah. Maybe he's high enough not to care," I guessed.

"Should I wait for you, Seño?" she asked, picking up the dirty sheets she had left laying on the floor.

"I don't know, will it be difficult to find the pool on my own?"

"I can take you there if you want," she suggested. "Or you can ask your bodyguard."

"I have a bodyguard?" I frowned.

"Yes, Seño, the tall sir outside your bedroom," she explained, pointing to the door with her thumb. "His name is Oso."

"Oso..." I repeated. "Is he nice?"

"Nicer than he looks," she smiled.

"Great," I whispered, relieved although still not convinced. "I'll let you go, so you can rest earlier."

"Thank you Seño," she answered with a beaming grin.

She left the room with my sheets under her arms, and I locked myself into the bathroom to finally shed off the cursed stranger's underwear and the dress I'd worn for the date.

After a short, hot, and incredibly appeasing shower, I tried on the bathing suit Pablo had bought for me. Much to my pleasant surprise, it was both flattering and not too revealing. It was a two-piece, dark red bathing suit with an asymmetric top and high waisted bottom. Its style was a little less basic than mine, but still miles away from the tacky clothing Pablo liked to deck himself out in.

The sundress he'd bought was cute, too. It was made of a light, flowy light fabric and printed with big golden flowers that matched those on Pablo's shirt.

And, because I was a clever girl, I had gotten waxed two weeks ago, just before the trip. My skin was still as smooth as a peach, and none of the hair had grown back. Therefore I didn't need Pablo's dumb razor. Not yet, at least. I settled it down on the edge of the sink with a proud grin.

By the time I was ready, the painkillers had already gotten rid of my headache. I walked out of the room and turned to the intimidating man who was leaning against the wall in the corridor.

He was almost a foot taller than I was, with a shaved head and a dark five-o-clock shadow on his chin. He looked exactly like what you'd expect a bodyguard to look like. He seemed familiar too, although I couldn't pinpoint whether I had seen him in a blockbuster action movie, or if we had already met.

"Hey," I said, "Your name is Oso, right?"

"Yes," he answered with a strong accent that reminded me of Ana's Dad's. "Is the Spanish word for 'bear'. Oso."

How fitting, I thought. The man was built like a grizzly bear, although I hoped and prayed he didn't behave like one.

"Can you show me where the swimming pool is?" I asked.

He nodded quietly, and I started following him down the endless corridor. My eyes kept getting caught by the views in the windows, all of them seemed like a painting of a different color, and each of them prettier than the one that came before.

Gone was the fear and anxiety. My bare feet stepped so lightly on the warm, sun-heated floors that I felt I was floating.

We once again crossed the hall and its grand glass dome, where glided down the marble steps, then through the kitchen and onto the patio where I had, just the night before, had my first taste of freedom.

The searing sun had dried up the last remnants of the storm, but the garden still seemed greener and fresher than anything I had ever seen. The palm trees swayed beautifully in the warm breeze. The way they danced, their fronds reaching towards one another as if they longed for an embrace, caught my attention for long enough that Oso had to pat my shoulder to bring me back down to Earth.

We walked down a brick path that curved around the house, through a lawn dotted with hundreds of white and pink wildflowers, before we finally got to the pool.

Pablo was lying in a lounge chair, facing away from us and towards the water, with his head tilted back, a cocktail in his hand, and his tousled hair gently fluttering in the wind.

"We are here," said Oso.

"So, if you're my bodyguard, does that mean you're supposed to protect me from him too?" I asked him, discreetly pointing at my captor in the distance.

"Señor Juarez never hurt the little girls," he answered.

I squinted at him, not because I was trying to decipher his slightly broken English, but rather to try and figure out if Oso himself was convinced that his own words told the truth.

These past few weeks had seriously questioned my perspective of morals and what was good. Most of the people I'd met didn't even seem to consider kidnapping as the terrible, awful, criminal thing I thought it was. I feared I didn't have much longer before, as Mafer said, that idea would rub off on me too.

"Alright, thank you, Oso," I gulped, and walked over to Pablo.

"Gordita!" cheered Pablo as he turned around and stood up."You look beautiful."

"Thank you," I answered timidly. I looked over my shoulder and Oso was gone.

"I made some Piña Coladas," said Pablo. "Want one?"

He gestured over his shoulder at a fancy pool bar, with dozens of fairy lights strung around its red tile roof and its vine-covered pillars.

"Piña Coladas are my favorite," I gushed.

His radiant smile revealed his perfect, blindingly white teeth, and dug little wrinkles around his gleaming eyes. Pablo ran over to the bar, like a small child going to fetch his favorite toy, and poured me a drink.

"Cheers!" he shouted as he ran back, handing me a cold glass that was already dripping with condensation.

I sipped on the delicious liquid, which perfectly balanced the taste of pineapple, coconut, and a sweet dash of rum. I closed my eyes as it ran down my throat.

"Pablo, I'm sorry about earlier on," I sighed. "I overreacted, I-"

"You don't have to apologize, Gordita," he murmured, as his hand swathed around my waist, and he squeezed me into a tender side hug, "I'm not mad at you."

I smiled at him, taking a deep breath in, and then a deep breath out. For once, I wasn't trying to control a panic attack. I just wanted to take in everything around me - the soft, warm breeze, the way the sunlight reflected on the ripples of the pool's crystalline water, the delicate floating aromas of nature and of tropical fruit, the quiet chatter of a hundred wild birds around us.

My headache was a distant memory, and I felt myself melt into Pablo's arms. As I leaned my head onto his shoulder, he left a caring kiss on my forehead.

There wasn't a worry, not a problem to cloud my mind. My head was as empty as the azure sky above my head. It was a feeling I hadn't felt in so long, that it seemed brand new. A feeling I neither thought nor hoped I'd ever feel again. Like taking your bra off after a fifteen-year long day.

From my head to my toes, all I could feel was absolute, immaculate, unadulterated bliss.