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“Santos, I can explain,” I start, finding my voice.
“I’m not sure you can,” he says, that non-smile once again appearing and disappearing. When he takes a step toward me, I jump, let out a small scream, and lunge for the bathroom. It’s pure instinct, fight or flight. I’m not thinking because if I were, I’d know how stupid it is to try to run from him. Besides, I don’t get far. Before I’ve reached the bathroom, he catches me with an arm around my waist and tugs me to him.
“Is this how you trust?” he asks, holding that pin out for me to see.
I twist in his arms. “I just… I…”
“Were your words just lip service to save your brother from a beating he deserved?” he asks, throwing me onto the bed so hard I bounce before I flip over to scramble off the other side.
Again, he catches me easily and has me flat on my stomach in a second, dragging me toward him. Once my legs are dangling off the edge of the bed, he pins me with the flat of his hand against my lower back.
“What are you going to do?” I ask twisting to get free as he tugs at my blouse, the sound of it ripping off me making me scream. My leggings are next. He strips those off, along with my panties, and I’m left bent over the bed in just my bra.
I hear the unbuckling of his belt, twist my head around to watch.
“You are not trustworthy, Madelena,” he says. He tugs the belt out its loops, the whoosh it makes registering. What he intends to do registering.
“Santos,” I ask, blood draining from my head as I recall his warning when he last punished me.
He doubles the belt, gripping the buckle in his palm and even though he’s not holding me down anymore, I don’t move. When he meets my gaze, his face is a tight mask, his jaw clenched. In his eyes I see the fire of betrayal.
“Santos,” I start, my voice a whisper.
“Do I have to make a prisoner out of you? Lock my doors in my own house?”
“No. No.” I shake my head, closing my eyes as he drags the belt over my thigh, slapping it lightly against it. “Please!”
“What have I done for you to distrust me?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
“Answer me!” he demands, cracking the belt across my ass this time, the contact making me cry out as pure fire stripes my butt.
“Nothing!” I should run. Try to get away. I don’t, though. I remain bent over the bed waiting, hands fists, every muscle tight. Because I deserve this. I have earned this, haven’t I? I close my eyes preparing for the next lash.
“Then why would you deceive me?” he asks, voice more broken than anything else. “Why?”
“I’m sorry. I’m…”
“I found your diary under the floorboards in your room, did you know that?” he asks, no lash follows the still-burning first.
“What?” I’m confused by this turn in conversation. I look back at him, afraid of what I’ll see, but needing to at the same time.
“I didn’t take it, though. Didn’t look through it. Because what’s inside it is not for me to take,” he says and I don’t know what I expect to see, but it’s not the face of a monster. Not at all. “Those are your secrets to keep or to tell as you choose. You don’t have the same respect for me though, do you?”
Guilt settles deep and heavy in my belly.
“I’m sorry. I am. I shouldn’t have done what I did.”
“Sorry is easy to say,” he says, tone strange, dark but also heavy with something else. Something that doesn’t have to do with me, with us. I feel it. He shakes his head, drops the belt and steps backward. When I sit up, he doesn’t stop me. “Question is, do you feel it, in here?” he asks, pressing one hand to the center of my chest, the other to my head. “Do you understand it here?” And even though he is right to be angry, he is gentle, and in his eyes, I see despair and betrayal.
I drop my head in shame.
“I’m not a monster, Madelena. And whether or not you believe it, I don’t like hurting you. The opposite. I’d do anything to protect you.”
He shakes his head and walks to the door.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
