Gringa - In the Clutches of a Ruthless Drug Lord (19 page)

             
I put down the hair brush and stand in front of him. We know why he’s here, so I get straight to the point. Slowly, I unzip my skirt and let it
drop
to my ankles. He stares as I kick them aside.

    
             
I’m not looking at directly at him, but from the corner of my eye I see his Adam’s apple bobbing. Then, as if it is the most natural thing in the world, I slowly lift up my top and draw it over my head and fling it behind me
, another
Paris
move.

   
             
He stares mesmerised by the sight of me in just my panties and bra. He’s never seen me this way before.

             
‘I want to see my family,’ I say, slowly unhooking my bra and freeing my breasts.

   
             
He continues swallowing, his eyes popping out of his skull and I
nurse
a tiny
bit of hope.

    
             
‘I want my clothes, my books, my iPod ...’ I’m looking directly at him now.

    
             
He stands transfixed, his eyes glued to my breasts but I’m still scared he’s going to say
no.

    
             
‘Diablo?’ This is the first time I say his name.

    
             
His eyes fly to mine.

   
             
‘Is that a
yes?
Si ...
?’

             
‘
Si.’

Bingo!
‘Tomorrow. I wanna see them tomorrow morning, okay?

Si! Si!
’ he snarls and lunges at me.

I allow myself a smirk. It wasn’t that hard to get him to say yes. Then what happens next, wipes the smi
rk
of my face.

    
             
He
spins
me around, rips off
my panties and fucks me in the ass.
I scream so loud, he has to force my face into a pillow to shut me up. Never in my life have I experienced such intense and searing pain and I want to die.

             
I can’t stop screaming with the pain and the shame. I feel humiliated, degraded, sullied and all the fight in me instantly dissipates.

             
Finally, I’m crying – sobbing, l
ike most rape victims do because no matter what I call it or how I play around with words, I have been raped. Repeatedly.

             
When he’s done, he stands up and looks at me lying in foetal position, crying. I refuse to look at him.

             
Leave! Leave! Don’t see me so crushed, so shattered. Please. Please  ... please ...

             
Finally, he has succeeded in breaking me.

             
As he gets dressed he
stares at me sobbing.
After a while,
he begins
walking out
. At the door, he stops and turns to look at me again.
He scratches his head and leaves.
 

    
             
My hatred for him soars and coils around my heart and threatens to squeeze the life out of me.

21 July 2002
7 AM

             
Don’t want to see my family anymore.

             
Don’t want to get dressed.

             
Want to sleep and sleep and sleep and
never wake up.
 

             
I
t
hurt
s
like hell – emotionally, physically. Want to take his knife and plunge it into his neck over and over again and watch his pathetic life ooze out of his scarred and unsightly body. Want to hack at him until he lies in a pool of blood at my feet. Want to castrate him and let him bleed to death for violating me. Want to use the flamethrower on him.

             
Previous tears were from emotional pain; today, it’s physical and emotional – helplessness. Hopelessness. Pained and shamed.

             
Diablo must die!

             
Diablo must die!

             
Diablo must die!

I’m lying in bed staring at the ceiling when
Rosa
enters my room. ‘Senorita, Marcus, he here to take you
-
see your family.’

             
Marcus is the ranch hand assigned to drive me to Siempre. Since I can drive myself, I suspect he’s there to keep an eye on me.

             
I
can’t seem to get out of bed. My head throbs, my eyes are burning and I just don’t have the energy to stand up.
‘Tell him
,
I’m not going
.
’ 

             
She takes in my swollen eyelids and blotchy face and strokes my forehead gently. Since she doesn’t ask why I’m crying,
I assume she
heard m
y
scream
s
last night.

             
Without a word she leaves my room. I
hear voices outside my door – hers and Diablo’s.

             
Five
minutes
later
she re-enters my room. Before she shuts the door, I catch a glimpse of Diablo standing outside my room, craning his neck to look
at me
.

             
Our eyes meet for a moment
before
I turn my face away.

             
Rosa
sits on the edge of my bed and says, ‘You
r
family, they will be worried about you, Diablo say.’

             
I stare silently at the ceiling. I don’t
even
want to hear his name right now.

             
‘I bring you coffee, you feel better,’ she says, stroking my arm. ‘Coffee and shower always make
me
feel better,
’
member?’

I shake my head from side-to-side.

‘You mus
t
go.
Maybe
Diablo change his mind then …’

She’s right. It might be the only chance I have of seeing my family.
             

‘Come.’ She takes my hand and leads me to the shower.

         
I do feel a little better after the shower. Just a little. The coffee helps too. I look at myself in the mirror - my face is puffy, my eyes are
swollen but mere
slits, my nose is bulbous and my head is pounding from all the crying. The last thing I want to do right now is to see anyone. But I force myself to
dress, brush my hair,
look presentable.

             
Before long, we are heading to Siempre.

             
We drive in silence and I psych myself into appearing cheerful and together for my visit. No-one really cares how I feel, so what’s the use of crying in front of them. Crying will only blow my cover. I’m supposed to be fearless, angry,
bad-ass Payton, remember? Not, shattered, depressed, suicidal
Payton.

             
Marcus gives me two hours with my family while he hovers around waiting for me. 

    
             
I see my family and fake it
– I smile, laugh, crack jokes.
Comes easy to me
. I’m a big fat liar
, remember?
 

             
Austin
stares silently at me and I get the feeling he knows something is wrong.

             
The villagers hear about my visit and swarm in to see Diablo’s obsession. They bring gifts and are relentless
with their
questions -
h
ow come I’m still alive? Has anyone bitten a chunk out of me as yet?
Is Diago half-man half-beast.

             
I tell them about life at Tana-Mera - C
h
rista is evil, Diablo s
eldom sp
eaks more than two words at a time, Tongue is really a Troll, Maria and Rosa are great ladies and that I’m okay, just bored.

             
‘They eat people?

             
‘He’s not half-man half-beast
and they’re
definitely not cannibals
,
’
I say.
 

             
Sighs of relief from some – looks of disappointment from others.

             
‘I haven’t been fed human flesh and they ha
ven’t bitten a chunk out of me.
’ I run my hands lightly over my body.
See?
But if they come to eat me; I’d suggest my
nalgas
first,’ I chuckle and pat my butt.

             
They nod, but do not laugh.

             
Two hours fly, it’s time to leave and my façade slips - I fight back tears. I don’t want to go back to the ranch and
Diablo’s unwanted visits
. I guess it’s obvious because the villagers are speaking words of comfort and trying to reassure me. 

             
I desperately summon a smile, but fail miserably and a tear escapes. Fuck! Why the hell can’t I get my shit together?