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Nana Guadalupe rushes back into the bathroom. She’s holding a pillowcase and tears a wide ribbon from it. When she’s done, she places two Band-Aids over the cut and wraps the cotton strip around my arm.
“Put another one over it,” I say. My shirt sleeves are wide, so the makeshift bandage shouldn’t be visible underneath. I can’t risk the blood leaking through. Diego might notice it.
After she wraps another swath of fabric around my arm, I roll the sleeve down, put on my jeans, and head toward the door.
“You think this will stop him?” Nana asks from the bathroom doorway.
“It won’t stop him from raping me eventually,” I say, “but I hope it will buy me a few days at least.”
* * *
The asshole took my father’s bedroom.
I stare at the big white door at the end of the hallway for a long time before taking a deep breath and twisting the knob to go inside.
Diego is sprawled on the bed, fully naked, holding his small dick in his meaty hand, stroking it. When he sees me, he motions for me to approach. I head toward the bed, swallowing the bile. Just looking at him makes me sick.
“I was so looking forward to this, palomita.” He smiles. “Take off your clothes and come here. I’ve been preparing myself for you.”
I stop at the edge of the bed and start unbuttoning my jeans, praying to all that is holy that I was right, and he won’t want to have anything to do with me when he sees the blood. Funny how such a repulsive, dirty man can find a woman unclean if she has her period. I undo my jeans and slide them down, watching his face while holding my breath.
“You filthy bitch!” he yells, his eyes glued to my panties then springs up, gripping me by the forearm. “Did you do it on purpose? Did you mess with your period?”
I look down, pretending surprise. “I didn’t notice it. It probably just started.”
He stares into my eyes, releases my arm, and slaps me across the face. “Pull your pants up.”
I yank my jeans up and turn to leave, but his hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist. “Where do you think you’re going? Your mouth isn’t soiled.” He grins and sits down on the edge of the bed, widens his legs, and tugs at my arm. “Kneel.”
I look down at his pitiful cock and then up until our gazes meet. He will probably kill me if I decline. My death will break my nana’s heart, but I will not kneel and suck the dick of the man who killed my father. Even if it means death.
Lowering my head until our eyes are barely inches apart, I smile, and then spit into his face. “Suck your own dick, Diego.”
He roars, throws me onto the bed, and climbs over me, wrapping his hands around my neck and squeezing. I gasp and claw at him, trying to remove his fingers as my lungs scream for air. I’m failing. My vision starts dimming and dark spots form in front of my eyes, but I keep thrashing, trying to get him off me. I should have brought Sergei’s knife with me. I’m halfway unconscious when the hands lift from around my neck, and I gulp in air, coughing. Another slap lands on my face, then one more.
“I can’t wait for Wednesday,” Diego sneers above me. “Filthy or not, I’m going to fuck you in front of everyone, palomita. Nobody says no to Rivera!”
He hits me again, then pushes me off the bed. I barely manage to get my hands up in front of me to break the fall.
“I want you dolled up for the party tomorrow. Make sure you cover the bruises well. I don’t want people to think I’m not treating you like you deserve.” He laughs.
I suck in a breath, slowly get up from the floor, and turn to face the bastard while he leans back in the bed with a big smile on his face.
“Fuck you,” I rasp, swipe the back of my hand over my mouth to wipe away the blood, and head for the door.
Diego’s insane laughter follows me.
Distant voices reach me, but I don’t register the words at first. Everything sounds like muffled mumbling. Gradually, they become stronger and coherent. When my vision clears, Felix is standing on the other side of the living room, with Roman and the doctor on either side of him.
“Sergei?” Felix takes a step toward me.
“What?”
“He’s back.” He sighs and turns to the other two men. “You should go. I’ll call you.”
I wait for Roman and the doc to leave, then get up from the floor, wincing at the pinpricks sensation along my legs. “What happened?”
The last thing I remember is coming home after spending two days riding around the city, only stopping to get gas, or when I needed to eat and could no longer ignore my body’s demands. And then nothing. “I found you here when I came by at noon. You’ve been staring at the wall for hours.”
