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Now that I was looking, I could see the marks on her skin, silvery and thin. Red and rash.
The signs of abuse.
His complete and utter dominance over her body, her mind.
Sit down, Manuel's voice in my mind. Still lingering like a phantom ghost.
He was right.
He would haunt me for the rest of my life.
I'd jerked to my feet, a wave of emotion washing over me. Tears prickling my eyes, my whole body shaking. I rushed to the bathroom, my insides heaving, my whole world honing in on the moment as memories slammed into me.
Sit down, punta. It had been a favorite phrase of his. I couldn't take a piss when I wanted, or get a drink of water. Be the perfect, submissive wife.
Don't move. Don't touch. Don't think. Don't do anything without his permission first.
Tears sprang to my eyes, overflowing. Sobbing wrenched from my body. When would this ever stop? These emotions inside.
He was dead, dead, dead, and yet, my body, my mind, didn't know that.
I pressed my face to the dirty floor, sobbing, cry it out, my therapist told me. You need to release the trauma.
I thought going to therapy was going to be relieving. Would be a happy, enlightening time in my life.
Instead, it was angry, all consuming, exhausting.
God, I was so tired.
My fingers dug into the tile, the dirt rough on my fingertips, the smell of piss and vomit filling my nose as I sobbed, sobbed, sobbed.
He was dead, I tried to tell myself, but my body, my heart, my soul, didn't care.
I was still shaking, my whole body trembling, don't move. The low growl of a voice.
I literally couldn't move, frozen from his venom and his whims as he hurt me.
"Tati?" A soft voice. A familiar voice, warped from time.
"Knight?" I couldn't believe it; I must be imagining him. It had been five months since Costa Rica.
Then, a soft touch, grasping me tightly but gently, pulling me up and into his arms. His body, so familiar, against mine as he cradled me.
"Knight. What are you doing here?"
"I've always been here." He held me, and the sobbing began again. "I'll always be here when you need me, my love." He kissed the top of my head. "My polva. Always."
I cried harder now, the pain and anger and sadness overflowing once more. I hated how much I'd missed him. How much I needed him in this moment.
"Always," he whispered against my skin, his fingers clasping me so tight and yet, so gently at the same time.
He held me for a long time, long after my sobs ebbed, my sadness draining until I could only stare at the grungy wall of the bathroom, both ignoring the knocks and then the pounding on the bathroom door.
Finally, I looked up, catching creek-brown eyes. "How did you know where I was?"
He pulled my hair behind my ear, his fingers gentle. "I've been following you since you left me."
"But?" I was so confused. "How come I've never seen you?"
