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My face blanches as I realize she’s actually threatening me. As much as I want to pretend it doesn’t matter, we both know it does. She shouldn’t know that. She should never have had the opportunity to hear any of it. And the only reason she did is because of Judge. Because of his carelessness in trusting her and his blindness to what she really is.
I have never been one to take threats lightly. But I can’t fight fire with fire right now. She has the upper hand, there’s no denying that. I’m locked up like a prisoner with zero resources. It seems as if overnight, my entire life has been taken away. I have no access to my friends. My brother can’t even stand to look at me. And Judge isn’t an ally, no matter how much I wanted to believe that maybe he could be. Miriam is right about one thing. I’m only here because there’s something in it for him financially. And the rest, well, I don’t know. Maybe he is meeting with a courtesan every night. I’d have no way of knowing. But I’d have to be delusional to think he wouldn’t. He’s told me himself he won’t touch me. That I won’t know him that way. Whatever jealousy I thought I saw in him… whatever is going on with him stealing my panties… none of that matters. Because he doesn’t care about me, and he never will. He’s proven that today.
“Alright.” His voice drifts closer as his shoes clip across the bathroom floor when he returns. “I’ll see you tonight then.”
Miriam smirks at me as if to say she told me so, and I dip my head so she can’t see the emotions on my face.
“Everything good in here?” Judge asks.
“Oh, we’re just fine,” Miriam tells him. “Ms. De La Rosa offered me a very sincere apology. She promised she won’t be making any more trouble for me, sir.”
He seems confused by her declaration but doesn’t question it as he grabs my leash and turns me around. “Very well. We’ll leave you to it, Miriam.”
My knees ache as I crawl back down the hall to my bedroom. I guess Judge is done letting me stay in his room, and I’m glad for it. I don’t want to smell him. I don’t want to see him. I just want to curl up and die, if I’m being honest. I have nothing and no one. It fucking hurts, and for the first time in my life, I’m questioning why I’m even here. What purpose does my existence even serve?
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Judge reaches for my arm and tries to pull me up, and I yank away, shoving at his hand.
“Don’t touch me,” I snarl.
He stares at me, bewildered by the violence in my tone, and makes the mistake of reaching for me again. This time, I scream.
“Don’t ever fucking touch me again! I hate you. I fucking hate you. Leave me alone!”
“Mercedes.” He stands there, shocked, and I know what it looks like. It looks like I’m losing my mind. But I don’t care. Maybe I finally am.
“I don’t want to see your face,” I choke out as I pry the collar off my neck and toss it onto the ground. “I don’t want to hear your voice. And if you touch me again, I will murder you too. So do us both a favor and just stay the hell away from me.”
I stagger into the bathroom and slam the door behind me, locking it in place. And then, I cry.
18
Judge
The next two weeks pass quietly. To anyone who was to only look into my house, that is. It may appear peaceful even. If not for the near-catatonic woman who is my houseguest.
Since her outburst after her punishment, Mercedes has barely spoken two words to me. She hasn’t looked at me. She’s refused to eat a morsel of food that Miriam brings her, and I admit, it’s forced my hand, so I’ve let her eat with Lois in the kitchen. I didn’t like to see how gaunt she was becoming. How quickly she was losing weight.
She’s stubborn to the point that she will hurt herself, and I need to figure out how to get through to her.
But this isn’t just being stubborn. Something broke in her the day I punished her. And I hate myself for it. For not having understood what a humbling as great as that would do to her psyche.
She’s depressed.
And I’m worried.
I haven’t talked to Santiago about it yet, but I will need to very soon.
Each morning at five o’clock, I knock on her door to find her dressed and sitting on her bed ready to go to the stables and do her work. She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t answer me when I say something. Just obediently gets to her feet and walks ahead of me to the stables as if she were the prisoner and I were her guard.
Seeing her sitting on the bed is unnerving. I still haven’t given her her makeup so her face is still free of it, but where before she was taking care of herself, showering, brushing her hair, changing her clothes, everything is different now.
If I don’t tell her she needs to shower and stand there to watch her do it, she doesn’t. She simply strips off her clothes—the same jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt she’s worn every fucking morning to clean the stables—and gets back into bed to sleep until evening when Lois can get her downstairs to eat the little bit she’ll eat. The only time she changes into clean clothes is when Lois or Miriam take the dirty ones to wash.
Her hair is losing its gloss. I’m not sure when she last brushed it. I have tried to, but she screams bloody murder when I go near her, so I stopped. Her skin too, for as much sleep as she’s getting, has grown sallow, dark circles appearing under her sad, distant eyes.
A part of me, the one that sounds exactly like my grandfather, tells me it’s fine. That she’s trying to manipulate me with this little show of rebellion. This is the voice that worries me. That has made me swear to never marry. And watching Mercedes come undone so completely, it’s just evidence that I’m right. Proof of what I can do. What I’m capable of.
I call her my little monster. There’s a certain affection that comes with that. I don’t know if she realizes that.
