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Cristiano doesn’t respond, but he raises the privacy screen so there can be no more questions.
51
Daniela
After winding through the city for several miles, the driver takes a left into Huntsman Lodge. While I’ve been by it hundreds of times, I’ve only been inside a handful, when it was open to the public during celebrations.
The driver doesn’t pull up to the main building but takes a utility road around to the back of the sprawling complex.
When the car stops, the lock clicks, and Antonio opens the door and hauls me to an elevator on the loading dock. It’s just the two of us on a descent that seems to go on forever.
He doesn’t look at me. Not once.
“Not a word from you when we get inside,” he spits out, the venom nearly choking me.
I don’t know why we’re here. Or what it means for me. But I don’t ask. Instead, I press my lips together, biting down on the fleshy inner rim, and stare straight ahead.
When the elevator doors creak open, he grabs my arm roughly and leads me through a set of metal doors to a tiled room. He shoves me inside. It’s not all that different from the way the captain treated me. Although he had much less hatred about him.
“There’s a toilet, there,” he says, pointing to a water closet.
I go into the tiny room and start to shut the door, but he pushes hard against it.
“Closed doors and privacy are privileges you no longer have.”
I consider leaving without using the toilet, but I need to pee, and the thought of wetting myself again is abhorrent.
Thankfully, he turns his back as I relieve myself. My underwear and yoga pants are still quite damp. It’s disgusting.
When I go to the sink to wash my hands, Antonio wrenches me away and brings me to an open shower stall.
“Take off your clothes,” he demands.
I want to say something. To explain myself. To make him understand my untenable position. My desperation. But his body is tight, and the dark cloud around him is even thicker now than it was at the pier.
As I take off my clothes, I do my best to conceal my naked body. Not just from him but from the cameras that I’m sure are all over this place.
Even now I can’t let go of my modesty.
A vivid image of my mother pops into my head. Naked, unresponsive, blood oozing from her mouth and throat. Me, covering her with the picnic blanket, tucking it under her chin. Mamaiwouldn’t want anyone to see her naked body. She was dead. Modesty was such an inconsequential concern, much like it is now.
I don’t cry, but as I take off my clothes, I allow myself to wallow in grief.
While I’m undressing, Antonio reaches around me into the shower and turns on the water.
“You have five minutes. Use plenty of soap.”
I glare at his back, but I step under the water quietly.
It’s barely tepid. I shiver, but I don’t care that much about the temperature. I’m just grateful to be clean.
The cool water wakes me up, and as I soap my hair, I realize this isn’t run-of-the-mill trouble I’m in. I defied Antonio in a very public way. I challenged his power and authority for all to see.
He’s not going to forgive this so easily.He might not forgive it at all.I’m a traitor in his eyes. Even my father, who wasn’t as exacting, would have viewed my behavior as an act of treason.
Traitors are punished by death in this world.
I’m afraid, although not as frightened as I was on the ship.Because you’re foolish.Antonio is going to torture and probably kill you.He is. ButI don’t berate myself for taking any of the risks. I had to try.
