Jacinta
God, what is wrong with me?
I gather my blankets around me as if their warmth will calm my heart down. It’s been a while since Paolo left my room, but I still feel like he’s here. The grip of his hands on my wrists, the force of his kiss on my lips, the pressure of his knee on the sweetest spot in my body-the sensations still overwhelm me. I’d give anything for him to stay and take me again.
I close my eyes, raise my hand to run a finger over my lips, and it’s so easy to imagine that it’s Paolo teasing me. My body tightens up in response to the thought, and I push myself deeper into the pillows with a groan. My hand reaches down between my legs. I’ve already teased myself into an orgasm-but it’s not the same.
Ever since Paolo claimed my body, the pleasure of my own touches has been so dull and empty. God, I want him to do it again, but…I open my eyes and bite my lips. How can I wish for something so filthy?
Paolo didn’t treat me like a princess-he treated me like a whore. The sex we’d had was unacceptable, rough, and borderline abusive, and I feel ashamed that I enjoyed it. Never in my life had I imagined that I’d let a man treat me like that, so I keep avoiding him in hopes that it will make me forget him. But Paolo has opened a hidden chest of dark desires in my heart, and now, I can’t think about anything but him.
My body is craving him-but maybe not only my body. Because ever since that night, I’ve been trying to gather enough willingness and
determination to create a new plan of escape, but nothing has come of it. I just don’t want to leave the mansion anymore. My desire to spend one more night with Paolo is stronger than my longing for freedom, and it scares me so much.
How can I be so attached to the man who kidnapped me?
I hide my face in my hands and let out a quiet groan again. My feelings are a mess, the walls of my heart are crumbling, and with my mind weakened in this chaos I hear Emilio’s voice again. How can I hope to be loved? How can I be treated as anything more than a toy? Paolo is probably disgusted by my body anyway. Of course, that’s why he left! He doesn’t really want me-he just uses my body because I let him.
I dig my fingers deeper into my temples and forehead, tightening my grip on myself. My heart is full of hurt and despair, and I feel so damn stupid. God, why haven’t I escaped yet? What am I dreaming about? Paolo will never look at me as a woman, even less as a lover.
I have to pull myself together. I have to get out of here-but as if in response to my thoughts, I feel a wave of nausea. It’s so strong that I
scramble out of bed and rush to the bathroom. As always, nothing comes out, but that doesn’t make me feel better. I still heave, hoping to see any signs that it’s food poisoning or some kind of stress response, but it only leaves me on the floor of the bathroom feeling like shit.
I wish this was the first time, but no, things like this have been happening for quite a while now. Almost a week, actually. So even if I were to ignore my weird desire to be close to Paolo, I still can’t get out of here on my own-and the most annoying part is that I don’t even know how to stop it. Or if I can stop it at all.
I take a steadying breath and get up on my feet, leaning on the bathroom counter. Right next to my hand there is a pregnancy test, and I just stare at it for a few seconds, feeling the nervousness tie knots in my guts.
My period was supposed to start three days ago, and I…I don’t even know what to think about it, okay? Maybe I’m overthinking. Maybe I’m allowing my panic to guide me, but I did ask Alice to get the test for me. It won’t do me any harm, right? I just want to check, and I’m sure I’m just imagining things. I mean, I can’t be that unlucky. I can’t get pregnant after my first time having sex!
So I purse my lips and grab the test, forcing myself to calm down and focus. It’s just a test, it’s not a big deal. It’s not gonna change my life forever. With cold and tense fingers, I open the box, read the instructions, and follow them, struggling to keep my thoughts from swaying into panic.
It can’t be, it can’t be positive. But what am I gonna do if it is?
Should I get rid of it? Should I tell Paolo? My whole life flashes before my eyes as I pace around my room, fiddling with the fabric of my shirt and
waiting for the timer to go off. Whenever I think about having a baby, my thoughts immediately scatter all over, refusing to stay still and focus even for a second.
The dread of the possibility is so strong that even when the timer does go off, I freeze for a minute, unable to force myself to walk back to the bathroom. My heart is pounding, and my throat is so tight I can barely breathe. I’m tempted to just throw the test into the bin and forget about it, pretending that I didn’t even think about being pregnant. Maybe then it’ll never become true.
But when I finally walk to the bathroom with heavy feet, I know that I can’t escape it. I have to know. My whole life is on a thin string, and ignorance will drive me crazy. I can’t even hear my own steps behind the frantic beating of my heart when I enter the bathroom, and I catch a glimpse of the test even before I reach the counter.
Oh god, that’s one stripe, right? It’s-
I freeze, and something inside of me bursts with a wave of nausea so strong I sway on my feet. The second stripe is faint, but it’s there.
I’m pregnant.
This time, I do throw up. I kneel on the floor of the bathroom, keeping my hair away from my face, and when there’s nothing left in my stomach I simply stay there, leaning on the wall. I have no strength left to
get up, to walk, to do anything. My body feels empty from the inside, but it isn’t. Not anymore.
I don’t know how long I stay there, struggling to pull myself together. My mind is too weak and overwhelmed, and my body is limp and unable to move, so it takes me a while to find a way for them to work. With trembling arms, I grip the edge of the counter and get up only to be immediately faced with my own reflection.
Oh god, I look terrible. My skin is pale, and my eyes are swollen. When did I cry? I didn’t even notice. I stare at myself with my lips pursed. What child would want a mother like this? What man would want to be its father? I can’t keep the baby. Dad will kill me if he ever finds out-and that already sounds like a plan.
I’m in the middle of washing my face and clearing my thoughts when I hear the door of my room swing open. Is it Paolo? Did he come
back to see me? I grab the test and rush to meet him-only to come face-to- face with the guy who interrupted our dinner. Louis, right?
“What-”
“Let’s go,” he cuts me off and grabs my wrist. “You’re coming with me.”
Before my mind can process it, Louis turns away and storms to the door, pulling me after him. I liked him more when I saw him last time. He looked friendly, if even a little arrogant-but now, he’s so grim and aggressive that I can’t even protest. I simply follow him on my trembling legs, barely catching up with his pace, and Louis takes me outside of the mansion and to a car with a driver.
“Wait, where is Paolo?”
I try to stop and frantically look around, searching for him, but Louis and the driver grab my arms and push me to the car. Shit. I don’t like this. I try to weave out of their grip, but they hold me tightly and tie my hands behind my back. I clutch the test in my grip, and thankfully, they seem to miss it in the darkness.
“What’s going on?” I make an attempt to turn around and look at Louis. “Where are you taking me?”
“Home, Senorita.” He grabs my hair and pushes my head down, forcing me into the car. “You’re going home.”
What? I burst my eyes open and try to twist myself on the passenger seat, pushing my feet against the door. No, no, they can’t do this! I start to scream and kick the door with all my strength, hoping for someone to hear me, but Louis quickly covers my mouth with a piece of fabric.
I try to bite his fingers as he does this, and Louis immediately grabs my neck and hits my head against the front seat. He doesn’t do it as fiercely as he could, but the pain is still strong enough to make me swallow my
cries. Shit. I huff and shake my head, feeling weak. It hurts.
“Stay quiet, princess, or the next time will be even worse.” Louis forces me to sit back and look at him. If only I could, I’d spit into that face.
I glare at him and, through the linen of my gag, mumble, “I’ll tell him. My Dad will kill you.”
“Too bad you won’t be allowed to speak.” Louis chuckles and ties the fabric tighter, forcing me to bite into it.
He covers my eyes a moment later, but at this point, I don’t have enough strength left to fight. I slump into the passenger seat, listening to the pulsating pain in my temple and the frantic rhythm of my heartbeat. The pregnancy test is still in my hand, and I clutch it tighter, feeling hopeless tears swell in my eyes.
If they are really taking me to Dad…will I ever see Paolo again? Will he ever know that he changed my life forever?