Days seem to pass steadily until I lose all track of time. What started out as wary confusion is quickly turning to impatience. I find myself starting to feel safe in this place, and that in itself brings a sense of anxiety because it’s always when you feel safe...

I stand on the balcony, watching the guard rotation, counting the seconds away between one passing the fence and the next. I’ve discovered that it’s not always the same; that it changes, sometimes daily. Even if I could find a way to scale that fence, I couldn’t predict when one of the guards would walk past.

The sun is starting to set, painting the sky in hues of orange. It’s been a few days since Rafael showed me around his house and so far I haven’t gone back outside, but today the four walls of this room are mocking me. Any moment now, Anna. Anxiety gnaws away at my gut because just when I think I know all the ways that one human can torment another; a new owner always surprises me. It’s the waiting that I can’t handle, and I’d forgotten what it’s like. At least in the Sinaloa, I knew what was coming. I was there to be fucked. I’m too strung out, too aware; niggling little emotions spinning around somewhere deep inside me, still buried, but digging their way out as best they can.

The withdrawals have been reasonably bearable, but now, the craving hits me full force. That desperate need for the blissful slipping of reality until everything becomes a muted blur of nothing.

I used to be terrified of becoming an addict, thinking it would be the chain that finally tethered me to my masters. Ketamine is not heroin, but without it—without its sweet relief from my reality, my mind wouldn’t have survived so long. I remember men touching me, fucking me, even trying to beat a reaction out of me, but I was untouchable in my self-imposed mental prison. The memories are nothing but muted, blurred recollections, almost like a dream you can’t quite fully grasp. Ketamine protected me. For years that was my life, and now… everything is too real—the very air seems thick and sludgy in my lungs.

I grab my crutches and yank open the bedroom door, moving as fast as I can down the hallway. I need to get out of this room before I go insane.

Once outside the house, I take a cleansing breath, inhaling the scent of the roses and jasmine. The door bangs open behind me, and I whip around to find Lucas standing there. Slightly out of breath.

“Jesus, you’re fast on those.” He nods towards the crutches.

“I need to get out,” I explain.

He nods. “Okay. I just… the boss will kill me if anything happens to you.”

Despite my best attempts, I like Lucas. He smiles easily, blushes even easier, and he’s there; every night when I wake up screaming, he’s there. He never tries to touch me, and he can’t do anything to help, but his concern makes me feel a little less alone. He reminds me of a little boy I used to know in the orphanage…before.

“If you want to walk, I’ll just…follow. You won’t even know I’m here,” he says in a rush, a small smile pulling at his lips before he looks away.

“Okay.” I don’t want him to get in trouble. He can’t be any older than eighteen, and there’s this kind of innocence that clings to him. I’ve seen it before, just not on a man. I wonder how he’s managed to stay like this when he’s in the cartel. Surely he’s seen and done horrible things? I try to imagine Lucas as one of the men I’ve encountered over the years, pinning down helpless girls and killing them when they’ve outlived their usefulness. I shudder at the thought, but no, I can’t picture him doing it.

Turning away, I start limping across the gardens. The soft grass caresses my bare toes and the sound of crickets echoes in the distance as the sun drops below the horizon. I make my way to the pond, and the second I sit on the low wall surrounding it, a sense of calm washes over me. The whirlwind of thoughts in my mind quiet to a low murmur, and I feel like I can truly breathe for the first time in days. The fish swim up to greet me, and I touch the mirrored surface of the water, watching as they suckle my fingertips.

I don’t know how long I sit there, but the sun is long gone by the time I realize how cold I am. True to his word, I haven’t seen Lucas at all.

“You seem to like the gardens.”

I jump, my hand flying to my chest at the sound of the deep voice somewhere behind me. Whipping around, I scan the shadows through narrowed eyes. A figure steps forward, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s Rafael. He’s absent of his usual suit and instead, wears workout pants and a tight white t-shirt that showcases his powerful frame. The ink that winds over his skin seems even darker in the moonlight.

“Rafael.”

“Well?” I stare at him. “The gardens?” he demands as though my answer is actually important.

“It’s…peaceful,” I say. I can’t truly remember a time when I felt even a trace of peace. Perhaps with my sister, when I was a child.

He moves closer to me and takes something from his pocket. There’s a click, and a flame dances in front of his face, casting his features in an orange glow. The scent of cigar smoke winds around me, blending with the citrusy smell of his aftershave and the flowers blooming out here.

“I come out here to think,” he says, almost to himself.

“I’ll go.”

“No,” He says quickly. “Stay.” There’s a beat of silence, and I want to leave, but something about the way he says it makes me stay.

I nod and re-take my seat on the wall. I can feel his eyes on me, but I say nothing. And there we stay, him smoking his cigar and me staring at the pond as though my very salvation lies within the black waters. When I turn around to look at him, he’s gone, the lingering scent of cigar smoke the only clue that he was ever really here.

* * *

I wake up, my head pounding painfully as I rise to consciousness, trying to recall where I am. I try to move, only to find that I can’t. I yank against the metal hospital-style cuffs that strap me to the bed, my pulse steadily rising. It’s dark in the room, and the musty smell of sweat and sex swims around me. This is new and new is never good because I can’t predict how bad it will be. All I can hear is the air rattling in my lungs with a very familiar fear. I yank again, and this time my fingers brush something, or someone, next to me. I freeze and squeeze my eyes shut as I listen to the hammering drumbeat of my heart trying to escape my ribs.

“Anna,” the soft whisper comes from beside me.

“Ellie,” I whimper. Only Ellie calls me Anna. She’s the only one who knows my real name. And then it all comes rushing back. We escaped. I could see the fence. We were so close, and then…nothing.

“What –” I’m cut off by the sound of a door opening, cutting a blinding shaft of light across my face. I squint and then it disappears before the overhead lights come on. The master strolls over to the foot of the bed, a wide grin on his face. I tremble at his approach. Everything in me wants to run away, to get as far from this man that I know is capable of so much suffering. But I can’t, so instead the adrenaline and the fear builds and builds to the point where my mind feels as though it may break. Hysteria lingers on the edge of my senses, my lungs struggle for air, and my body shakes violently. Ellie’s fingers gently thread through mine, and I cling to her.

“I’m so very disappointed, amado. Have you forgotten our last lesson so soon?” No, I haven’t. My back still aches from the open, bleeding welts where his men struck me with a metal rod over and over again. All because I wouldn’t tell him what he wants to hear. He’ll surely kill me for trying to escape… I can only hope.

He leans over the bed and brushes the hair away from my face. I flinch, every muscle going tense. I feel the rush of warm breath over my lips as he laughs before he kisses me. I want to slam my mouth shut and force him out, but I know better, so I force myself to open them. His tongue pushes inside my mouth, and I fight the urge to gag. He pulls back and grips my jaw painfully. “Do you not love me anymore, amado?” he says with that glint in his eye that promises pain.

“Yes,” I whisper, fear consuming me.

“Then kiss me.” He presses his lips to mine again, and I force myself to kiss him back. He bites my lip, leaving a sting and then the familiar taste of blood before he pushes away from me.

He glances down at Ellie, and a twisted smirk works over his face. Ellie yanks against her restraints, growling. He laughs. “I admire your fight, young one.” He strokes over her hair, her face. “It makes me want to break you so much more.” He grabs her jaw and twists her to face me. “My sweet amado was once like you. I thought I taught her better. It seems you have corrupted her. I will break you both.” I reach for her with my fingers, silently begging her not to fight because Ellie always fights. He’s right, there was a time when I would rather have died than submit to him, but I learned there are worse things than death. Much worse. She ignores me and growls at him. The master reaches into his pocket and takes a syringe, holding it up in front of her. She goes still, and I want to scream at her to resist.

He grins. “You fight, but you’re a slave to something so much worse than me, little one.” He moves the syringe back and forth in front of her, and her eyes track its movement. “Are you going to submit?” he asks, though it’s all a trick. He doesn’t want submission; he wants to break shiny things. Ellie nods, and he takes a rubber strap from his pocket, tying it around her arm. I want to scream at her not to do this, but she’s too far gone. Fifteen years old and addicted to something that was forced on her. I see her body relax the second he injects her.

When he stands, his gaze meets mine. “Now, it’s been a while since you pleased me, amado. Do not disappoint me.” I hear the clink of his belt buckle, and I try desperately to block it all out, to drag my mind away from my horrific reality. It gets harder and harder because every time he does something that horrifies and degrades me further. “Look at me,” he growls. “For every time that you displease me, I’m going to cut her.” A buckle clinks before he loops his belt around my neck, running it back on itself until it tightens at my throat like a choke leash. He pulls it tight, and my air instantly cuts off. I register the violent motion of him stroking himself as he watches me suffocate. I yank against the restraints, every survival instinct screaming at me. I feel the blood vessels in my eyes burst as my lungs burn helplessly. I can’t help but hope he accidentally kills me. Black spots dot my vision, my body jerks helplessly, and then everything goes black.

The next thing I know, I’m laying on the same bed, but something wet and sticky coats my cheek, sticking my hair to my throat and face.

“I told you I would cut her,” his voice rings through my mind. “You passed out. You displeased me.”

I blink my eyes open and come face to face with Ellie’s clouded eyes staring at me. Her lips are blue—so close that I could kiss her, and her throat is slit from ear to ear. I open my mouth and scream.