365 Days: Drugs, Treason And Demons

ALL BARK, NO BITE

"Ceviche tostadas," gloated Pablo as he laid the plates out in front of us, "Fresh raw mahi-mahi cured in lime juice, served on a toasted tortilla with guacamole, red onions, a few drops of sesame oil, cashew nuts, and cilantro."

"Wow, how fancy," I answered with a polite smile.

"If you're a picky eater, I can make you Mac n' Cheese," he grinned.

"It's fine," I said, and grabbed the wine bottle to top up my almost-empty glass.

"If you keep drinking this much, you're going to end up more f****d-up than you would have with ecstasy," he shrugged, "But, you do you."

I answered him with a blank stare as I downed my drink in a single, long swig, and the alcohol stirred my brain around like a frozen margarita. I ran my fingers through my hair to get it out of my face, and hopefully get rid of a few ugly curls as well, but my fingers got caught in the thick maze of knots.

"Do you need some help with that?" he asked, hovering his hand close to my head as untangled my fingers.

"My hair is bad enough as it is, Pablo, it doesn't need mahi-mahi juice," I groaned, leaning away from him.

"But it's really romantic!" he chuckled, and he touched the top of my head.

"Hands off, fish-fingers," I hissed, and swatted his hand away.

Pablo smiled and took a bite out of his tostada, and so I mimicked him. He joyfully munched on his food, as I cast him an unrelenting gaze. I still didn't know what this date was all about, aside from Pablo showing off his house, his guards, and his culinary skills.

"Should I be nervous?" he asked, "That look on your face makes me happy I didn't give you any cutlery."

"Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?" I said.

"Stop saying that," he crooned, "You're really not that fat."

Had the tostada not tasted so good, I would have whacked it across his smug face.

"Don't be stupid, Pablo," I hissed, "You know what I'm talking about."

He put down his tortilla, and wiggled his mustache as he finished chewing.

"I have one question for you, Gordita. Once you leave this place, where are you going to go?" he said calmly.

I knew where this was going. I nervously rubbed my fingers along the foot of the wine glass, aching for another gulp. Pablo watched me carefully, waiting for an answer he knew I didn't have.

"Home," I muttered.

"Home?" he repeated, with a chilling tranquility in the tone of his voice, "With your mom, your friends and your roaches?"

"Well, you don't deserve me more than they do," I mumbled, trying to keep myself from choking up with tears.

"This isn't about me, Gordita," he said softly, as he wrapped his fingers around my hand, "Are they what you deserve?"

My lips started to quiver, and my vision blurred up from the tears.

"You're a sweet girl, you're smart and you're funny," he continued, "You're worth much more than what you have in Goose Creek. Why are you so eager to go back there? What do you have over there that you can't have right here?"

"Freedom," I sniffed, struggling to hold my head up high.

"Well okay Braveheart, but you know that's not an option."

"Why not?" I cried, "If you trust me enough to tell me your name, to sleep in my bed, and to let me roam around your house - why can't you trust me when I tell you that I wouldn't tell anyone about what happened here?"

"Do you really think you're going to waltz back to the US as if nothing happened?" spat Pablo, "Do you think people are going to ignore the fact that you were kidnapped by a cartel and came out unscathed and with no ransom? What are you going to do when the CIA or some other fuckers come knocking on your door looking for some answers? What are you going to say?"

I licked my teeth and took a big gulp of wine.

"No questions, please. Oh no Sir, I don't really remember. The naughty druglord told me to keep quiet, sorry!" he mocked in a high-pitched voice.

"Do you think they'll let it slide easily?" he continued, "Do you think that they'll believe you're innocent? They'll torture you, that's what they'll do. They don't care about you being happy and safe, they care about me stealing literal millions from their country. You don't matter to them. If you did, they would have sent someone to come look for you."

I nervously wrapped my hands around my knees and stared down in silence at my half-eaten tortilla. It hurt to hear, but he was probably right.

"If that doesn't bother you, then go. But there are lots of people out there who are way worse than I am, and who are just waiting for you to walk by so they can snatch you. You know, it's a long way home, Gordita, especially when you don't have any home to go to."

"I have a home," I mumbled, although even I wasn't convinced by the words that came out of my own mouth, "I could live with Ana."

He looked at me with tired eyes.

"Don't say it," I choked up.

"Say what?"

"How do I know she wants to live with me," I muttered, "I know that she doesn't."

"You have to stop beating yourself up like that," he told me, as he stretched out his arm and gently stroked my back, "You don't know that. But is that life really one you want to go back to?"

I silently pushed my glass towards the bottle, and he sighed as he poured me some more wine.

"Is it really that awful to stay here with me?" he sighed, "What have I done to you?"

I scoffed, and almost choked on my drink.

"Is a bullet-point list fine, or are you going to need a f*****g PowerPoint?" I spat.

"Listen Gordita, I know I'm not perfect, but at this point, I'm just trying to protect you. I really do care about you."

"If you care so much, why did you ignore me for a whole week?" I seethed.

"I didn't want to say something I'd regret," he sighed, laying his hand on mine, "I'm a bit hot-blooded."

"Are you?" I quipped sarcastically, pulling my hand away, "I've never noticed."

"I'm sorry."

He stared at me with his little brown eyes, and it made my blood boil. He slanted his eyebrows to call for a sense of pity I wasn't ready to give him. Sorry wouldn't cut it. It took all the strength in my body to stop me from smashing my glass across his face. I could feel the heat of anger rushing up to my face.

"Are you okay?" asked Pablo, interrupting my train of thoughts.

"I'm fine."

"You look hot," he said.

"I'm not in the mood for compliments, Pablo," I sighed, "But thanks."

"Uh... you're welcome," he answered, arching an eyebrow, "Should I open a window?"

A quick jolt of shame ran down my spine.

"Sure," I squeaked.

He nodded politely and walked over to the closest window, leaving me alone with my tostada. I took a generous bite out of it, and tried to let the loud munching sounds drown out my painful thoughts. Because, as much as I didn't want to believe it, Pablo was right. There was nothing left for me back home. I tried my best to tell myself, he's just manipulating you, it's all a bunch of lies, but the truth was, I couldn't think of anything to contradict him.

My life would end here, far from what I used to call home. I'd forget about my Mother, just like she forgot about me. I'd let go of Ana, just as she had been letting go of me. I'd never step back in the dirty flat that I dreaded to walk back into, even after the most exhausting shifts. Although this place wasn't ideal either, I could try and make it a little less bad. Plan Seduction had worked so far, and if I kept pretending that I liked Pablo as much as he liked me, maybe I could get more privileges and kitchen dates. I started to accept that I was stuck here forever, and there was something comforting in that idea. But there was just one thing I needed to make sure of before I surrendered the past life of Sarah Kennedy.

"There's something else I want to talk about," I said.

"Go on," he nodded.

"Who's Beto Arias?"

"Beto's my Chief of Operations," he explained as his brow furrowed, "He does my dirty work and calls me when he needs advice. He's my right-hand man, of sorts. Why?"

"There was a message from him on your phone. He was talking about Ana Pérez."

"What about it?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"What happened to her?"

"Her ransom's been paid," he said, and turned his head away to avoid my accusing gaze, "She's going home soon."

My heart fell in my chest, and both my hands and jaw started to shake uncontrollably.

"Soon?" I screamed, "She's still here?"

My hands seized up and I dug my nails into my palms to stop myself from clawing his eyes out. My vision turned blurry and my head filled with a raging haze, and all I could picture was Ana, alone in the cold, damp basement, with her hands tied as she sat in a puddle of her own waste. I could feel her fear, her shame, the sheer terror she felt for the past two weeks as she wondered if she'd ever make it home.

"You motherfucker," I seethed, jumping out of my chair to try and strangle Pablo.

"Sit down," he ordered, grabbing my wrists before I could reach him, "You can take your complaints up to Beto. He's the one who handles the hostages, not me."

"f*****g liar," I hissed, "You were there too, that day you pretended to shoot me."

"It's not often that we get hostages who have absolutely no friends or family. He called me over and we were trying to figure out what to do with you. Your friends took that decision for me when they pulled their little stunt."

"What other choices did you have?" I asked, wiggling my arm out of his tight grasp.

"Human trafficking," he gulped, and nervously turned his gaze away from mine again, "Stuff like that. I know it's not a nice thing to hear, and you'll probably try and kill me again for it, but I just want to be honest with you. When I told you you got a good bargain out of the whole ordeal, I wasn't joking."

"You're a f*****g monster," I fumed.

"Rawr," he said, as he playfully attacked me with a claw-shaped hand that I quickly swatted away.

"Stop laughing. It's not funny," I spat.

"I'm sorry, Gordita," he chortled, "I can't take you seriously. You have guacamole on your nose and you look like an angry little bichon frise. It's cute, really."

"Keep making fun of me, I'll f*****g kill you one day," I seethed, wiping the bits of avocado off my nostrils.

"No you won't," he chuckled as he wrestled away my arms, "You're all bark, no bite."

"If I find out you've hurt Ana, I definitely will."

"Ana's fine, Gordita," he whispered, "She's just a bit on edge. She's a fiery Latina. Beto told me she keeps trying to kick everyone," he smiled.

"She hates that," I sniffed, wiping a rogue tear off of my cheek, "Being called a fiery Latina."

"Well, she's got to stop acting like one," he groaned, "Besides, she was fed more often than you were, so you don't need to feel bad for her."

"I hope you're telling me the truth."

"If I wanted to lie to you, I would have told you that she's already home."

"When is she leaving?" I asked, as my voice started to crack.

"A day, two at most."

"Can you do me a favor, Pablo?"

"I'm listening," he whispered, resting his cheek on his closed fist.

"I would like Ana to sleep in a bedroom while she's still here. Where she can lay in a bed, take a shower, and s**t in a toilet like a normal human being."

"Would that make you happy?" he asked softly, as he moved his hand towards mine.

"It would make me less angry," I chuckled nervously, pinching my lips and hiding my hands between my thighs, away from his reach.

He licked his teeth and arched an eyebrow.

"Sure then, I'll make the call," he shrugged, and immediately pulled out his phone.

Whoever it was he called, they picked up almost immediately. It made me feel a little better. Pablo had hundreds of people to do his bidding, and all I needed was to make him do mine. I may never be free again, but I had never felt so powerful. No more than a minute or two after Pablo hung up the phone, there was a knock on the door.

Pablo stood up, while I stayed with my plate. I looked over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of Pablo's little helper. The sight of him made my blood somehow both freeze and boil, and brought me crashing down from my short-lived high.

I'd seen his face before. His round glasses, the bald spot on top of his head. His beer belly, stuffed into a sweat-stained polo shirt. Since the last time I'd seen him, he'd grown a silly-looking mustache, not unlike Pablo's, but it wasn't enough to stop me from recognizing the man from the gas station.

He and Pablo muttered each other a few words, and I noticed that the man kept glancing over at me. They quickly came to an agreement which ended their conversation, and Pablo turned around to face me.

"Is that Beto?" I asked him.

"Yes," he sighed, "Listen, Gordita do you mind if I leave you alone for a minute?"

"No problem," I answered, and smiled politely as he grabbed theblazer he'd hung on the back of a chair and left.

I tipped the wine bottle upside down, and shook it down to its last few drops, filling my glass up to the brim. I finished my tostada and the few crumbs left from Pablo's too, and licked the last drops of guacamole left on my fingertips.

The wind that blew in from the open window tickled the back of my neck, as if it was calling me. I took a quick look around the room, and figured, since I'm alone now, why not take a peek. I wasn't going to run out, I wasn't going to escape. I'd promised Mafer I wouldn't do it tonight and was starting to believe that I wouldn't do it again anyway. I just stood in front of the open window, breathing in the fresh air, letting it embrace my full body for the first time in two weeks.

But the breeze's peaceful cuddle was short-lived, for it also brought painful memories. Soon, I heard Ana's voice echo in the distance, screaming and begging for her life, confused as to why she was being pulled out of the basement. She fought, and kicked, and yelled at the top of her lungs. Meanwhile, I whimpered, softly, silently, my face so scrunched up with pain that it hurt. My body shook with tears as I struggled to decide whether I should cover my ears with my hands so I wouldn't have to hear Ana's fear, or if I should listen carefully to make the most of the last time I'd hear her voice.

I stood at the window for a long while, at least until Ana's screams faded, and by then my glass was empty. My eyes were stinging and my fingers still shaking, when a deep voice came up behind me.

"You can leave through the door, Gordita. It's open too," said Pablo.

"Oh, I was just looking," I spluttered.

"Relax," he grinned, "I trust you."

He grabbed another bottle of wine from the fridge and walked up to me. I handed him my glass for a top-up, eager to get my mind off of tonight's events and into a peaceful state of blackout.

"I don't know why you trust me," I shook my head.

"You're not going to run very far with those shoes," he chuckled as he pointed at my feet.

I glanced down at my swollen toes whose nails had turned a light shade of purple, and sighed. I then cast a longing gaze out of the window, and watched as the palm trees swayed in the soft breeze and the glow of far-away lightning.

"I wanted to take you out in the garden for a walk, but it wouldn't be very nice in the storm," added Pablo.

"Well, it's not like I'm scared that my hair might get ruined," I chuckled.

"Why would you want to get rid of those amazing Gordilocks?" laughed Pablo as he ran his fingers through strands of my hair.

I turned around to give him a soft, playful punch on the cheek, and in turn, Pablo turned his head in slow motion to pretend that it hurt.

"I warned you," I giggled.

"Don't hit me, Gordita," he moaned jokingly, rubbing his cheek, "It really turns me on."

"Ew!" I cried, and slapped him, with a little more conviction this time.

"You're so violent," he chortled, "Do you want to go in the garden or do you want to stay here and beat me up?"

I answered him with a proud grin. The answer was both, obviously, although the latter activity could wait for a bit.

I went to stand on the edge of the patio, where the blades of grass merely tickled my numb toes. The wind howled softly as it blew through the leaves on the trees, and its cold caress on my skin made all my hairs stand on end. The rain hit my face like thousands of little needles. My teeth chattered and my whole body shivered, and yet I'd never felt so alive.

I wanted to open my arms wide, like a bird spreads its wings as it's about to take flight. I wanted to embrace the outdoors, take in all the fresh air I thought I'd never feel again. I wanted to run around, either in circles or in a straight line - but the cold breeze froze me in place, with a silly smile stuck on my face, and my trembling arms clinging to my sides.

Pablo's warm hand brushed down my shoulder.

"Don't catch a cold," he said, as he delicately put his blazer on my back. I turned around to thank him with a smile and took a steady step off the patio and onto the grass.

As soon as I shifted my weight on my foot, my stiletto heel drilled a hole into the mud. I lost my balance, and my arms flailed for a second before I fell backwards.

Right before I hit the ground, Pablo caught me. His strong arm held me effortlessly as it wrapped around my lower back, and just like in the cheesy movies, we lingered for an instant, staring into each other's brown eyes. For a moment it felt like I was floating, right at the border between Heaven and Hell.

"Don't break an ankle, either," he grinned, as he delicately pulled me back onto my feet.

I bit my lip and grabbed onto his shoulder to keep my balance while I took my shoes off. I threw them at him, and sighed with satisfaction as mud squished between my tingling toes. The feeling of freedom was better than any drug on Earth. I wanted to fall onto the soft ground and roll around in the wet grass. I wanted to twirl around in the rain, arms spread out wide, and let the heavy rain drench me down to the bone. But first, I took a single step away from Pablo.

"Don't go too far," I heard him say behind me, "Or you might get struck by lightning."

I turned around and came across his mysterious gaze. He devoured me with his eyes, toeing the fine line between rage and passion. He stuck a cigarette between his pinched lips and lit it. He wasn't relaxed, and I knew this was his test - the moment in which he'd know if I'd been paying attention and falling for his manipulations. Where he'd know if I was either broken and faithful or if I was, as he had said a few weeks ago, just a bad investment. Either I stayed with him and gained his favors, or I ran away and lost it all.

It made even more sense when I lifted my head up to look at the house. There were rows and rows of windows, and in every single one, like silhouettes against the golden light of the chandeliers, were all of Pablo's guards, standing alert and staring right at me. I hiccuped, and addressed Pablo with a nervous giggle.

"I thought I was for your eyes only."

"Don't worry," he answered calmly, "They're watching out for what runs towards them, not what runs away."

"I don't believe you," I grinned.

"Then you're a very clever girl, aren't you."

I shivered, maybe because of the cool breeze or maybe because of Pablo's chilling demeanor. But a little jolt of electricity ran up my back and struck my brain. It was that spark that hits you when you know you just had a very bad idea. Like when you're in a fight and you're about to blurt out something you might regret; like when you're about to hoist yourself through the broken window of an abandoned building; or like when you're about to kiss someone you hate.

I took a slow step back and Pablo's nostrils flared. I took another step, distancing myself from the patio, and all the windows opened, their silent creaking barely audible over the roaring of the rain falling around me.

I took a sip of wine, one step more, and then another. The men slowly lifted their rifles to take aim. I glanced at Pablo, and hoped and prayed I hadn't overestimated him - because I was pulling an Uno Reverse card on someone who had a whole hand of +4s.

"I think that's far enough," he said, lifting his eyes up as if he was checking to see if I had noticed his men.

"Is it?" I smirked, "Why?"

I lifted my glass up to my lips, taking another swig for courage. I walked back a bit more. I felt like a tightrope walker, trying to keep a steady step despite my shaky legs, and a calm facade despite my crazed heartbeat.

"Wanna get back inside?" he sighed, "The rain is going to water down your wine."

I shook my wet curls and licked my teeth.

"What's the worse they could do, Pablo?" I shouted back, "Shoot me?"

He knew it as well as I did. I had nothing to lose, but he did. I took a deep breath and another step back. I wondered if the men had either a signal, or an imaginary line that I could cross before they'd pull their triggers. Whatever it was, I mustn't have been very far, because little red dots started dancing on my chest and my face. I stood right where the patio light's glow faded, where the dark night's shadows tickled my back and started to reel me in. One step more, maybe two, and I'd disappear.

"You're far enough now," he said, his voice graver than ever, "You can come back."

"Oh no, Mr. Juarez, they're going to kill me!" I cried, putting on my best dramatical theatrics, as I rested the back of my hand on my forehead, "Please come save me!"

I slowly lifted my leg, ready to take one last step back and end the game if I needed to. I was testing myself as much as I was testing Pablo, and even harsher so than he was testing me. I saw him bite his lip as he struggled to admit his bitter defeat, his eyes racing back and forth between his men and his girl. f**k, said his tight lips, as he ran forward to join me.

The men lowered their guns, and with them my blood pressure. I licked my lips and savored my little victory. It was a victory because I was still alive, and because my stupid idea had helped me prove my point that Pablo didn't have the strength in him to kill me. Even though he'd told me he wouldn't harm me, his intimidation techniques always seemed to say the opposite. But that's just what he wanted - to scare me, not harm me. And now I had that confirmation, I didn't really have a reason to be afraid of him.

"Are you done yet?" he seethed as he grabbed me by the waist and waved his men away.

"All bark, no bite," I whispered in his ear.

He looked down at me and smiled as he tucked a soaked strand of my hair behind my ear.

"What now?" he asked, "Do we dance in the rain or something?"

"I'm a terrible dancer," I giggled.

"I can teach you a few steps," he grinned as he spun me around.

I sprayed half of my glass around the lawn and the other half down my gullet, and landed in his arms. We held each other like two hopeless romantics.

I tried to remind myself that this was all wrong, and that he was and always would be the man who kidnapped me. But I'd started to believe his words, and began to think that maybe life here could offer something better for me. And since it was just me and Pablo, there wasn't really anyone who could judge me for what I did.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look right now?" he purred, wiping off the makeup that the rain had smeared under my eyes.

"I'm not sure, but you can say it again if you want," I giggled.

"You are by far the most amazing woman I've ever met," he whispered. His hand tightened around my waist, and his eyes burned into me with an ardor I'd never seen in him. The cold breeze was still blowing on my skin, but Pablo's embrace, his words, and the half-gallon of wine I'd drunk made me feel so warm within.

He brought my face closer to his, close enough that I could feel his breath on my skin. His fingers laced with mine and my heart started to flutter, as Pablo leaned in closer to my ear and he professed to me:

"I think I'm in love with you."

With my bare feet in the grass, the rain pouring down on me, the breeze in my hair and Pablo's warm skin brushing against mine, I'd never felt so good and so free. The music in the distance was still playing, the thunder was rumbling, the leaves were rustling in the wind, the night birds were singing and none of these sounds were louder than that of my heart beating. Pablo was smiling, his eyes sparkling and his embrace still tightening. My head was spinning, I felt like I was floating, falling, and flying at the same time. It seemed like a good night to make a bad decision.

And so I kissed him.