After the wedding, Miguel doesn't mention our honeymoon once and I grow more anxious with every passing day. My longing for my family skyrockets. As I sulk around the house, boredom settles in quickly; I have nothing to do and most of my day is spent counting down the minutes until I can go back to sleep.

Naiara is off to London for another shopping trip and I have no one to talk to other than Miguel when he returns home from the compound in the evenings. Most nights, he chokes down a quick meal with clenched teeth, his eyes clouded over as if he's in another world. I can't shake the feeling that something is seriously wrong with his business. The permanent stress etched on his face causes me to keep my distance. An inevitable outburst is looming; once he explodes, I'd rather not be in his close proximity.

One afternoon, when I trudge back into the living room from the pool to use the bathroom, I catch a glimpse of his problems. The door to Miguel's study is ajar and loud angry voices drift through the crack of the door.

I tiptoe over and peek inside the room, just to shy back at the sight. Miguel is on his knees, his father shouting in his face. General Varela stands next to him, his fist clutching a nightstick.

"Creías que no lo averiguaría?" Santino yells.

Miguel doesn't respond.

"Contéstale."

With that, General Varela raises his stick and whacks Miguel across the back.

Miguel doesn't even flinch but gazes calmly at his father. The silence in the room is filled with so much tension that a match could set off an explosion.

"You've got rats."

With one hard shove, I'm propelled into the room, almost losing my footing. Tomás grins at me and takes up position next to General Varela. He folds his arms across his chest. All four men glare at me.

"How much did you hear, Stacy?" Santino asks.

"You know I don't speak Spanish." I glance at Miguel, barely able to hold in the tears. "What are you doing to him?"

"Do us all a favor and don't involve yourself in men's business. It's not your place." Santino doesn't look away once from my face. "Tomás, take her upstairs to her bedroom and lock her in. I don't want her snooping around while I have a conversation with my son."

"Yes, sir." Tomás grabs my arm. "Come on, Stacy."

The tears push to the surface. "Miguel . . ." As his wife, I can't just abandon him while his father beats him.

He smiles. "It's okay. Just go with Tomás." The calmness in his eyes soothes the turmoil inside me. Maybe it's not as bad as it looks.

With slumped shoulders, I follow Tomás, just as General Varela delivers a new blow. Air escapes Miguel's gritted teeth, but he still doesn't make a sound.

When we get to the first landing, my curiosity gets the better of me. "What's going on?"

Tomás stops in his tracks and I bump into him. His piercing gaze chills me to the bone. "You heard President Rizo. This doesn't concern you."

"I'm Miguel's wife. His well-being concerns me."

"Yeah, about that." His eyes narrow. "Why did you marry him?"

"Why should I share if you don't?" When his jaw drops, I relish his response and continue my way up the steps.

He catches me before I make it up another flight. "I'll tell you what's going on with Miguel if you give me an honest answer."

I'd be a fool to trust him. "You first."

"Then we have no deal."

With a smirk, I jump up the steps. This time, I get to the top before he bothers speaking again.

"Okay, I'll tell you."

When I look at him, a triumphant smile tugs at the corners of my lips. "Spill it."

"General Varela found out that Miguel did some business dealings behind his father's back. Now you." Tomás's gaze is expectant and I actually believe he told me the truth.

"Is it about that cartel in Colombia?"

"Yes." Not the slightest hint of deception reflects in his eyes, but my gut feeling still tells me it's a lie.

"I don't believe you." I turn toward my room, but he clutches my wrist.

"Answer my question. Why did you marry Miguel? You could've tried to break off the engagement or at least come to me and asked for my help when things got tough. Do you really love him?"

I glare at him, trying to tear my arm from his grip. "Why wouldn't I love him?"

"Don't play games. He beat you, raped you, and cheated on you. How can you possibly love him?"

"You beat Shauna and she loves you."

That makes him laugh out loud until tears sparkle in his eyes. "Shauna doesn't love me. I know you might think I'm a despicable person, but I like it that way. If someone loved me, I might love them back. That would open me up to all kinds of problems." A painful shadow lingers on his face before returning to his usual smug expression.

"Well, you're mistaken. I love Miguel." My mind scrambles for what to say to make my assertion more believable. I remember Father Lucas's words. "The Bible teaches forgiveness. Miguel has his shortcomings, but he deserved a second chance."

Tomás's chuckle is filled with bitterness. "Yeah, they used to tell us that crap at the orphanage. If someone slaps you on the cheek, turn the other cheek also. It's bullshit, if you ask me." The words are spit with so much venom that they make me cringe.

"So you don't believe in God?"

"Oh, I do, but Malaguay isn't really high up on his priority list. Maybe one day he'll come and save us all, but until then, I'll make damn sure I take care of myself." He extends his arm invitingly toward my room. "After you, princess. Since you aren't being truthful anyhow, there's no more need to waste my time on you."

Shoving me into my bedroom, he doesn't glance at me once. He slams the door shut and locks it. I fall onto the bed and wait for my husband. Yet I can't get Tomás's pained expression out of my mind. I wonder who has hurt him so much that he's turned into such a bitter person.

~~~~

When the door finally opens and Miguel staggers in, darkness looms on the horizon. His hand is unsteady as he fumbles around with the key and it takes forever until it's back in its proper place in the door. At first, I worry that he's in a lot of pain, but then the alcohol cloud steaming from his body steals my breath.

"Stacy, where are you?" The slurred words are accompanied by a large amount of drool that he wipes off with the back of his hand.

Uncertain what to do, I lie still on the bed.

"Stacy, where are you?"

I push myself to respond. "I'm right here." In the state he is in, I find him totally disgusting.

He slumps on the bed with so much force that the mattress vibrates. A loud belch resonates in the bottom of his throat and the sour taste of half-digested alcohol assaults my nostrils.

"Perdóname,"  he mumbles. With clouded eyes, his gaze roams around before settling on me. "Come here, baby. I need you."

"Miguel, you're drunk." When more of the alcohol stench floats my way, my nose wrinkles. "You should go to sleep."

"I don't wanna go to sleep." He belches again. "I wanna make love to my wife."

No way I want to have sex with him in his condition. The prospect alone that I'll have to kiss him sends bile up my throat.

"It's late, Miguel," I say, although evening's blue light is just settling outside the window. "Let's go to sleep."

With some luck, he'll pass out, leaving me to sneak downstairs to get a sandwich. I haven't eaten since breakfast and my stomach has been growling up a storm.

He fumbles with his shirt but gives up when he can't get it open. Chuckling, he falls on his back with outstretched arms. His head cocks to the side. "The room is spinning. It's really cool."

I sit up with a sigh and open the buttons of his shirt. Heaving him up with quite the effort, I help him shake it off. The light from the nightstand illuminates his torso. I gasp. His skin has blackened from bruising and welts have formed all across his back. The whipping scars aren't even visible anymore.

"Don't worry, it's nothing. I've had ten times worse."

I can't help the tears that pool in my eyes. "How can your father beat you like this?"

"My father is a dick. He's never cared about me." He turns his head to look at me. His eyes are dilated, the black almost covering the entire orb. Tears glisten in the corners. "You are so lucky, Stacy. Your dad might be a dick, too, but at least he loves you."

"Are we still going to visit my family?" As the words spill out, I want to take them back. Now is not the time to bring up the trip.

"No. My father won't allow it. He said it would send the wrong message since we aren't friends with the Americans." He rolls on his stomach and props his head on the back of his hands. "Tomás said that you'd run away, but you would never do that, right? You love me."

I don't miss the irritation that has crept into his voice.

"Of course not. You know I'd never leave you." Despite my best effort, the words tremble with fear.

His body stiffens. "I don't believe you."

"You really should get some rest." When he keeps glaring at me, I jump off the bed. "I'm gonna brush my teeth and get ready for bed."

I only make it halfway to the bathroom when he catches up with me.

"Oh no, not so fast, missy." The words are clear and even though the alcohol cloud is still surrounding him, his eyes and speech are back under his control. "General Varela was right. You only married me for my money and prestige. Now that we are legally husband and wife, you're hoping to divorce me back in America and make a fortune."

It's painful to look into his furious eyes. "Don't be ridiculous, Miguel."

The blow to my cheek sets my face on fire. "Don't lie to me." Spit spews from his mouth. "I told you before, I hate liars."

The sinister glimmer in his glare raises my shield. I have to get away from him or he'll beat me again. Glancing at the open bathroom doors, I ram my shoulder into the center of his stomach to throw him off balance. If he hadn't been drunk, he would've likely overpowered me, but his reaction is too slow. He's knocked off his feet. The last thing I see before I slam shut and lock the bathroom door is his flabbergasted face.

I sink down on the floor with my back against the door. The banging starts.

"Open up." Several F-bombs follow his demand and his curses turn to Spanish.

I hug my knees, praying he's too intoxicated to break down the door.

The pounding persists. "I swear I'm gonna kill you if I get my hands on you. Open the fucking door."

Tears fill my eyes as the wood of the door keeps hitting against my back with every blow of Miguel's fist.

"Mano, qué pasó?"  I hear Tomás say.

"That bitch locked herself in the bathroom. You were right. She's a goddamn liar!"

"Cálmete. Yo me encargo de eso."  After some shuffling outside, a soft knock resonates against the door. "It's all right, Stacy. You can come out now. Miguel's gone."

"I don't trust you," I splutter between sobs.

"Suit yourself. As far as I'm concerned, you can stay in there all night and freeze your ass off." The bang of the bedroom door follows his words.

I prick my ears for any noise, but the bedroom stays quiet. Deciding to wait to make absolutely sure they both left, I chew on my lip to keep my mind occupied. My whole body is shaking. What will Miguel do after he sobers up? Will he still beat me? After all, I can't hide in the bathroom forever.

When my lip is chewed raw and all remains still, I finally unlock the door and peek outside. The room is cloaked in darkness. The creak of the bathroom door breaking through the silence makes my heart jump. A small sob escapes and I bite into my palm to stop myself from screaming. Stumbling forward, my gaze is fixed on the bedroom door. Locking myself in here until the morning will give me a few hours to figure out what to do. My fingertips already graze the key when the light on the nightstand is turned on.

"I told you she'd fall for it, mano." Tomás is stretched out on the bed, his dark blue eyes void of any emotion.

I snap my head around to meet Miguel's gaze. He sits on the floor next to the bathroom with a face that seems carved in stone.

When he slowly rises, my last fighting spirit awakens. My hand shoots for the doorknob. Rattling the door with panic, I realize it's already locked. Tomás slides off the bed. With a groan, he stretches. Reaching across to open the door, he keeps his gaze on my face.

"Last chance." The words are mumbled under his breath, his lips barely moving. "Admit you don't love Miguel and that all this forgiveness crap was bull. Then I might be willing to help you."

Our eyes lock. I'm torn. His request is easy, but is it true? What will my husband do if I say those words out aloud? Will it make things worse in the long run?

Before I can make up my mind, Miguel circles his arms around me from behind like a steel rope. "Say goodnight to Tomás, baby. You won't be seeing him for a while. As a matter of fact, you won't be seeing anyone for a while, except the doctor."

"Miguel, please," I whimper. When the full meaning of his words settle in, something hot trickles down my legs. He'll beat me to a pulp.

Face still void of emotion, a slow smile unfurls from the corner of Tomás's lips. "Oh dear, she pissed herself. Make sure to have her clean this up." The message in his eyes is clear—I blew my chance to get his help and I'm on my own. When he unlocks the door, Miguel's embrace becomes so tight that he almost cuts off my oxygen supply.

Tomás halts in the doorway and looks me over one more time. "Make sure you turn the other cheek, cariño." With a barking laugh, he closes the door and turns the key, barring any chance for escape. It's the last thing I hear before Miguel's full rage is unleashed upon me.

~~~~

© Sal Mason 2017

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