Chapter 5: Kidnapped

Rebeca thought about asking Alicia about the conversation she’d overheard, but she knew it would compromise her, and she knew Alicia didn’t deserve that.

The best thing to do was to wait two more months, until she was supposed to come of age, and then run away from there. She didn’t do it right then because if they found her, the consequences would destroy her life. She knew all too well the coldness of Adolfo and Rita, her adoptive parents, and that coldness turned into a block of ice whenever Aldana was mentioned.

“Don’t worry, Ali, they didn’t find out. I’m going to sleep now… I love you so much… little sister,

” she said with a hint of resentment, because Alicia—even though she was a teenager when she was abducted and likely couldn’t make any decisions—was the one who took her by the hand and pulled her away from a life that surely would have been much better than the one she’d lived up to that point.

Ever since she’d overheard that conversation, she’d been trying to remember what had happened, but she couldn’t be sure of anything; she couldn’t remember, and the only thing her treacherous mind could see was a lot of smoke and an escalator.

She always came back to the same point…

What baffled her was that, ever since she was little, she’d often dreamed of an escalator and holding hands with Alicia; she’d always associated it with some outing she might have had with her sister.

Rebeca wiped away every last trace of that black makeup, as dark in style as the band she’d gone to see…

She covered her face, and as she closed her eyes, she remembered the kisses she’d received that night…

She’d even forgotten about the band she’d gone to see—her favorite—and the one for which she’d dared to sneak out of the house.

It felt as if that soldier’s kisses were still burning her skin—because, yes, they had set her ablaze, made her burn with passion like she’d never felt before in her life; not even with Alberto, her ex-boyfriend, had she ever felt that way.

She ran a hand over her mouth, recalling the taste of those wild, impetuous lips.

It was an almost hilarious situation.

Her chest was heaving, and her nipples were as hard as they’d been when she felt those hands squeezing them. Without a second thought, and with the darkness of the night as her silent accomplice, she brought her hand down to her private parts, caressing her pelvis, and sliding her fingers toward her clitoris. She began to rub it hard, feeling absolute pleasure, all the while still recalling that breath that had aroused her to the very core.

For a moment, she let go of her private parts and, with her hands, squeezed her nipples hard, pulling on them, all the while biting her lips to keep from screaming.

Feeling herself burning with desire for that unknown soldier, she brought one of her hands back to her clitoris, but that was no longer enough; she needed more. She wanted to feel something inside her, so she inserted two fingers and moved them faster and harder with each stroke. Enveloped in a lust almost impossible to describe, she began to feel a wild and powerful orgasm wash over her, cursing her loneliness and longing to feel deep inside her the soldier’s hot member—that member she’d felt against her stomach when he held her in his arms and squeezed her body.

“Yes, yes, yes…”

she whispered as a liquid trickled from her vagina, a sign of just how aroused she was.

Damn, I didn’t calm down; I’d be like this all night, longing to be in the powerful arms of that masculine specimen.

He’s the man I’d love to have forever,

she thought as she decided whether to keep masturbating or go to sleep.

Morpheus won out.

Rebeca woke up thinking that the dream she’d had, though repetitive, was stranger than the ones she kept in her memory.

Added to that smoky staircase were airplanes painted gray and yellow—they looked like warships—and a woman who was laughing without even knowing why. In her dream, there was a shopping mall, lots of people, and it seemed that this woman was extremely elegant; she wore a long fur coat and was very thin.

On top of all that was the face of the soldier who kissed her as if his life depended on it.

Once again, she brought a hand to her lips and felt the warmth of that mouth that drove her completely wild. “You’re going to be late!

” said her “mother,” opening the door. “You’re

the same slacker as always; you’re going to make us look bad at work—those people know us.” “It’s

still early; don’t worry

.” “You say that? You can’t do anything right!

” Rita said, raising her voice.

“What’s going on here?

” Rebeca heard the voice of Adolfo, her father, who was pushing the door open, furious with that hatred he always showed her.

“Nothing…”

she dared to say.

“Nothing? This slacker doesn’t want to go to work.”

Rita accused her

. “I’m going to teach you a lesson!

” Adolfo stepped forward and, across Rebeca’s beautiful face, landed a backhand, splitting her lip and sending her crashing to the floor, blood gushing from her mouth.

Without another word, the man stormed out, slamming the door; Rita followed him.

“Why did you hurt her? Now she’s bleeding, and that blood could contaminate us—it’s not pure.”

The teenager heard that perfectly.

“Now you’re saying that? Then why are you making such a fuss?” “You know I’m going to get close to her, and you know how I react—you’re always the one causing all this.” “That’s not

true.” “It’s always

like this. You ruined my life, you brought that stranger here, and I’m sure you just grabbed the first girl who crossed your path—all to do what Arsenio tells you.”

“Arsenio is your friend.” “Arsenio is your lover!

” Rebeca, from the bathroom where she was washing up and cleaning her wound, kept listening to the conversation—which, to be honest, was nothing but shouting.

She heard blows and more shouting; she was sure they were hitting each other with whatever they could find. Adolfo was a physically large man, and Rita—though she was tall, and time had added a few extra kilos to her frame, not many—was still an easy target for him.

Rebeca thought about going to help Rita, but she was sure that if she went, she’d be the one taking Rita’s place to get beaten—and the woman might even join in. She’d likely end up, if she was lucky, in the hospital.

As best she could, she got dressed and slipped out, unseen, through the door leading to a long hallway that opened onto the side street. “Again?

” Margarita, the owner of the workshop where she worked, asked her.

“I bumped into something—I’m just clumsy…”

she replied, not caring if Margarita didn’t believe her.

“Sweetheart…”

The woman hugged her, and she burst into tears.

“Sweetheart, you can’t go on like this.” “They’re

my parents,”

She said, believing her own lie. “That

doesn’t give them the right to hurt you like that.”

“Don’t worry, and above all, don’t tell anyone—don’t get involved, don’t say a word.” “I don’t like this

at all.”

“Margarita, it’s dangerous for you; I don’t want him to hurt you.”

-“Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

Rebeca thought Margarita was wrong—very wrong.

Not knowing which path to take, or what to say to convince that woman not to say or do anything.

She was afraid… “If

my father finds out I talked to you, he’ll kill me,

” she confessed. “He has

guns—you know he’s in the military.” “Don’t

worry.” “Thanks

.”

When she got home, she did so fearfully, thinking she was going to get a beating from Rita, since at that hour, Adolfo was off at the bars where he was drinking and gambling until late into the night. When he could barely walk because of how drunk he was, he’d come home—if he could—eat, if not, as best he could, and then go to his room.

She heard Aldana’s voice, and Rebeca thought that her troubles weren’t going to end that day.—

Hi, Rebeca.

The young woman was speechless, since her older sister was almost friendly in greeting her.—

G… Good evening.—Try

not to create these situations anymore.

The teenager was about to explode.

“Situations?” “Was she the one causing situations?

” “I swear I wasn’t late.”

She was sure her sister knew that—and so did Rita. “I already

talked to Dad. So he doesn’t get mad at you, you can’t go out like that; the neighbors are going to talk

.”So that’s why!

“Mom got beaten up; I came to help her. Now make dinner, then wash the dishes, tidy up, and clean the house.”

That was just like her…

Without saying another word, she began doing what her older sister ordered her to do.

The days went by, filled with abuse.

Her job and household chores took up all her time, but she kept counting down the days until she could leave that house.

She came of age, but without a single peso—since she gave almost everything she earned to her household—and with nowhere to go, she decided to hold on a little longer, get her life together, find a place, and stay safe, because she was certain that if she made one wrong move, Hugo would pull some strings and they’d arrest or kill her…

She learned to distrust everyone; there were only two people she trusted—one was Margarita, and the other was Viviana Deloz—though she hadn’t told anyone that she was “adopted.”

In addition to her daily chores, she was attending college; Rebeca dreamed of becoming a great fashion designer.

She had plans for her life; she wanted to set her destiny on the right path.

To everyone else, she was a girl with no complications in her life; if only they knew what she was hiding and feeling…

So many early mornings, with her recurring dreams—it was like walking through a deep desert, not knowing where to go.