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Unfortunately, he was also aware that would put a strain on his body in addition to the hard work he was subjected to, so he ate as much as he could and downed three glasses full of water.
“Slower,” Charles advised. “You’ll get sick.”
“I doubt I can get any sicker,” Rafaelo muttered.
“Be careful with that mentality here, kiddo. It won’t hold,” Charles said as he munched on his food. “There’s always worse.”
“This el señor. Who is he?”
Charlie paused, swallowing his food.
“No one knows exactly.” He shrugged. “I assume he’s some drug lord. You know the type.” He said it so nonchalantly that Rafaelo could only stare at him.
“You don’t care that you’ve been here for over a year? Don’t you want to get out?”
“Oh, I will,” Charlie said as he took a swig of his water. “As long as I behave, I have six more months of work left and I’m out of here.”
“I don’t follow…” Raf frowned.
“If you behave, they might offer you an out,” Charlie explained. “It’s not a bad deal if you think about it.”
“What? They bought us to force us to work. How is that supposed to be a good deal?”
“Exactly. And if you behave, you’re not going to die or be sold off to someone else. It’s as simple as that. I’d rather I didn’t die, and I sure as hell don’t want to be sold again,” he muttered, lifting his shirt and pointing to a deep scar that ran across his stomach.
Rafaelo hadn’t noticed it before, or his mind had been too foggy to recognize what it meant.
“What did they take?” he asked in a low voice, swallowing uncomfortably as he realized there were still other ways he could be abused.
“Part of my liver,” Charles replied, shrugging.
The conversation shifted to Charles’ story and how he’d come to be at the hacienda. He and his family had been heavy in debt when he’d decided to sell his liver. In the process, he’d gotten involved with a gang that had sold him further when he’d been recovering from his surgery. Now he was simply biding his time, waiting until he would be freed to go back to his family.
After hearing how Charles had ended up at the hacienda, Rafaelo continued to ask questions about his new owner, though he found he couldn’t get much out of Charles.
Rafaelo realized fairly quickly he couldn’t trust the man—not when his only goal was to behave, so they would free him as promised. He couldn’t fault Charles for holding out hope for that, but Rafaelo doubted that someone who relied on forced labor would willingly set a slave free.
To what end would that be? To buy a new slave? That would cost them money, and Rafaelo was absolutely sure they wouldn’t spend any more than they had to.
He refrained from mentioning that to Charles though, focusing instead on himself.
He needed to gain strength first.
Though still not free, at least he wasn’t being fed drugs that messed with his mind on a daily basis. Now he could think clearly and use his brain to its full capacity. Maybe he was still weak physically, but if he approached things strategically, then he could train his body and gain endurance. Eventually, he would be in the best shape to escape.
He took another bite of his sandwich as he mulled over the issue at hand. Certainly, being on foreign soil would complicate his situation, but Rafaelo was determined to see a way out.
Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw movement a bit further in the distance.
He slowed down his chewing as he squinted at the figure. He could only make out her contour, but he recognized it was a woman by the way the clothes hugged her curves. She had a perfect hourglass figure, though from that distance he couldn’t tell how tall she was.
Her hair flowed down her back, curling at the ends, the warm breeze blowing her locks around.
He couldn’t see her face from where he was, but he wondered if it was as perfect as the rest of her.
“You’re not listening,” Charles’ voice suddenly registered.
“Hm?” Rafaelo frowned, turning from Charles to the woman he’d just seen to see that she’d left. “There was someone there,” he said, and pointed into the distance. “A woman.”
