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“You…” she whispered.
“Missed me, my dear wife?” Sergio smirked at her.
He was alive, and looking much, much better than Noelle could have expected.
“I have a little surprise for you,” he said before he was upon her, his hand closing around her throat.
That close to him, she could see he was still wan, sweat beading his forehead. But even in his feeble state she was no match for him strength wise. No matter how much she pushed, she could do nothing. She could only accept that he was suffocating her—that he was bent on killing her right then and there.
“Let…go…” she whizzed as she brought her hands atop his in an attempt to push him off her.
He sneered at her, his face turning thunderous before he gripped her tightly and flung her into the wall.
The shock of the impact knocked the breath out of Noelle. A pop permeated the air, yet it was a sound to her ears only that signaled that her old injuries had torn anew, the pain immediate.
Tears clung to her lashes as she hugged her chest in an attempt to find a modicum of peace.
“You stupid bit. Maldita puta,” Sergio thundered, coming towards her.
His steps faltered for a moment, and through the mist of pain, Noelle noticed that for all his display of strength he wasn’t completely recovered.
“I should fucking feed you to the dogs for what you did,” he spit at her.
“You’re still alive,” she spoke between harsh breaths. “It means I didn’t do that good of a job.”
She barely finished her words before the first slap came.
He caught her jaw with the back of his hand, the blow so strong she thought she saw stars for a moment.
Losing her equilibrium, she fell to the ground, dragging herself towards the door as blood started flowing freely down her face.
She lifted her hand, touching the tender flesh and noting the red coating her finger. The same red was now clinging to her back, the liquid sticking to the material of the dress the more she struggled—the more her wounds tore open.
Noelle looked wildly around her in an attempt to find something to defend herself with. Yet it was all in vain because in the next moment he was upon her. Blow after blow, she had no way to stop them even as she curled onto the floor, shielding herself the best she could.
“Please...” She whispered in a dead voice. “Please…stop…”
But he didn’t.
He didn’t stop until she stopped moving. And even then, he only stopped because his own injury was paining him.
With one last look at her pitiful form on the floor, Sergio spat on her.
“I’ll make you rue the day you were born,” he promised, though Noelle could no longer process words at that point.
There was only pain. So much pain, and the promise of oblivion.
21Noelle
“You need to do something,” Lucero said in a hushed tone as she tried to help Noelle in a seating position.
Nearly two weeks after that encounter with Sergio in her room, it had become a common recurrence to find him there when she least expected him.
He wouldn’t come daily. Only when her old wounds would begin to heal and the hope that maybe he would leave her alone would appear.
Sergio knew exactly what he was doing.
He wasn’t only hurting her, beating her within an inch of her life every single time. He was also psychologically torturing her until she couldn’t have one peaceful moment, the fear that she would open her eyes and see him in front of her growing with every moment.
