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I see my wedding day clearly. My family had taken me to Mexico for the wedding. The moment the priest had ended the ceremony, they'd left me alone with my new husband. Even for that time, the memories are shaky. I remember mostly impressions, emotions and pain. I'd barely been able to stand up after the beating I'd taken the wedding night, and as much as I'd like to recall what happened afterwards, I can't.
There's the feel of his belt on my skin, the sting of the leather against my lower back. I remember slaps and kicks, and I can still hear the vicious words ringing in my ear.
Useless.
He'd needed a wife to serve as his decoration and broodmare. I'd been the former but I have no recollection of the latter—thank God.
The image of thehaciendaflashes before my eyes—the large house in the middle of an industrial field. There were huts and different buildings all around the area. Later, I would find out that's where they synthesized the new drugs.
Foggy at first, but slowly taking shape, I see other constructions. Wood and stone are all around as people work to lay the foundation of a new building. Aside from that, though, there's nothing else.
Picturing a labyrinth, I lead my mind down a dark road as I imagine the succession of events as I know it—my arrival, followed by my stay at thehacienda.
There are few moments I remember clearly—aside from the vicious beatings I withstood from Sergio. He'd forced me to play along with his odd brand of god-worship as he'd interacted with his men. I'd stood frozen like the decorative doll he'd wanted me to be—a fake smile in place as I reacted with haughtiness to everything that happened around me.
After all, the master should only have a fitting mistress by his side, and I could only prove that by enforcing the same cruelty that he had. It must be during one of those instances that I had met Raf, though I cannot, for the life of me, remember.
There had also been the times I'd been forced to sit behind an old piano, playing away pieces forced upon me—all to entertain his high and mighty guests. A shiver goes down my back as I recall my fingers on the piano keys, playing sounds forbidden to me when no one was about.
I continue down the dark corridor of my memories, my eyes closed as I try to make sense ofmore.
What else happened?
I recall some of my interactions with Lucero and the staff at thehacienda.Sergio is ever present as the villain in that story. But if he wassobad, then why can Ionlyremember him?
It's almost as if the more I try to make sense of the past, the muddier everything becomes. Even things that until a short while ago I held as true have disintegrated, showing me that I was hanging on to an illusion—to a side of the truth that I'd created specifically for me.
Dr. Chadwick's words from before come to mind. I'd made myself forget as a protective mechanism. My brain had shut everything away to help me keep on living because the truth would have pinned me down with no hope to ever rise again.
But…
What if the truth I thought I knew so far was also a product of that defense mechanism? What if, in my attempt to recover and keep living, I'd changed reality, shifting my memories to suit a narrative that would be tolerable to remember?
My eyes widen at the realization and I shoot upright, adrenaline charging furiously through my veins.
Moving from one side to the other of my small cell, I begin to put the pieces together, reaching a startling yet painful realization.
Not only had I forgotten things, my mind had also taken it upon itself to reshape my memories, bending reality and molding it into an ideal—something that would help me push forward.
A victim.
A gasp erupts from my mouth as my knees buckle, hitting the floor. Yet the pain radiating from the impact site is nothing compared to the burning sensation I feel in my chest—it's nothing compared to the blinding pain I feel behind my lids.
"They hate you. Everyone hates you, Noelle. They are afraid to meet your eyes when you cross their paths because you might suddenly kill them. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Sergio snaps at me, pacing around.
"So? Better be feared than loved," I snicker back.
"You…" he clenches his fist, no doubt thinking to strike me.
"I'll remind you that your days of messing with me are over, Sergio. Over," I emphasize the word as I take a step forward. What once would have instilled fear in me, now fills me with unimaginable joy at seeing him recoil at my approach.
"You're cursed," he spits at me. "Maldita perra."
Before I know it, I'm back, staring once more at those unchanging dark walls.
Slowly, I bring my hand up, tracing my features with the tips of my fingers and marveling once more.
Who the hell am I?
