Hector never joined me, and I was more than thankful for that. I leaned over, checking on the girls. Layla was in one cage; Becca in the other. They were both wrapped in blankets, sound asleep. I jumped at the opportunity to shower aloneagain.
Not that I hated Becca's company, but we'd been practically tied at the hip this last month. I jumped under the spray. The hot water hit my skin like freedom, just for that split second. I closed my eyes and let it run down my face, trying to wash away the night; the blood, Layla's cries and screams as we cleaned her cuts with peroxide, and the stench of this place. Unfortunately, the moment I shut the water off, it all came crashing back like nightmares often do.
Our abduction.
The cages.
The camera's.
The abuse.
And the knowledge that Hector's absence was only temporary. By the time I had dried off and stepped back into the bedroom, the girls were awake. Becca gave me a tired smile, one of those faint ones she forced just to make me feel better.
Layla though…she couldn't even lift her head. She looked like a shadow of her former self, the bandages across her ribs already spotting with blood. I knelt by her cage.
"You'll get through this, Layla. I'll try to figure out how to get you to the doctor."
Her eyes flickered, but she didn't answer, only nodded. For once, I thought it would be better if Hector were here. He is the only one who can order her to the infirmary. I thought about kicking the door to get the guard's attention, but I quickly dismissed the idea. It's better to keepthem away from us on the other side of the door, where they belong. I didn't trust them with their leader absent.
We passed the morning in brittle silence. No one bothered to bring us breakfast, and my stomach growled—angrily, I might add. Lately, food consumed my thoughts, an obsession I couldn't shake no matter how good or bad the day went. Hunger gnawed at me constantly, a cruel side effect of the conditioning I'd been forced to undergo.
We helped Layla out of the cage and sat her on one of the kitchen chairs. We weren't allowed to sit on any of the other furniture while naked, except the bed. He treated us no better than farm animals. Beck and I made sure Layla drank sips of water every few minutes.
As always, we kept our voices low, careful not to let him overhear on the cameras. We were three fractured souls clinging to each other in the wreckage. Talk of escape, or of killing Hector, had vanished from our whispers. Becca and I had that dangerous conversation recently, but I dare not let it surface again. Some thoughts were too dangerous to speak aloud, even in the lowest of voices.
The clock on the wall tormented me, its hands creeping toward 1 p.m. with cruel precision. On one hand, I wanted him to get here to help Laya, but on the other, it felt like the noose was tightening, meant to break me before he even stepped through the door. Every tick hammered into my skull, a reminder that he was drawing closer. Between the gnawing hunger pains and his returning, the dread curdled my insides, twisting my stomach into knots. The fear coiled tighter with the certainty that Hector would be here soon, and when he returned, he would devour morethan just my body. He'd eat away at whatever pieces of me were left.
Part of his cruelty was keeping the cupboards and refrigerator locked so there was no way to even look to see if there was anything to eat. As bad as things were here, my obsession with fucking food wouldn't stop, and it drove me nuts.
Time passed.
Tick Tock.
Tick Tock.
Sure enough, by 1:30 the apartment door unlocked with a heavy click at the kitchen entrance. My stomach flipped instantly. Hector stepped in, dressed sharply. A predator wearing a businessman's smile. His eyes swept over the room. Becca tensed in her seat. Layla was pale and weak, barely taking full breaths; and I sat next to her, trembling in fear.
"Well, well," he drawled, shutting the door behind him. "My whores look well rested." He walked over to Layla's chair, assessing the damage done to her by his brother. He cursed under his breath as he draped his jacket over the stool at the island. "That motherfucker. I told him to go easy on you. We're having a fucking party tomorrow night, and you look like death!" He pulled out his cell and called Juan.
"Get your ass to my apartment right now. Don't make me wait for more than five minutes." He shoved the phone back into his pants, still swearing under his breath. He made a few more calls, one of them to the cook. "Bring lunch to my apartment. I'm fucking starving." His voicemade me jittery, but order was restored once again. He snapped his fingers, and everyone jumped.
Juan showed up in a record five minutes, sweat beading all along his forehead. He stood at attention like a soldier in front of his brother, looking like a nervous wreck. Hector circled him like a lion ready to strike its prey.
He pointed to Layla's broken body.
"Do you see what we have here, Juan? A fucking bloody mess. That's what we have."
Juan gazed at the floor, petrified of his own sibling.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take it that far. Before I realized it, things just got out of hand."
Hector sneered in his face, eyes black with rage.
"When you told me you went a little too far, I thought a few cuts here and there. I wasn't expecting multiple wounds that need a doctor's attention, you fucking idiot!"
He unbuckled his belt, removing it from his slacks.
"This is the last time you will damage my fucking property to this extent." With the belt still in his hand, he went to his bedroom to grab something from the closet and came back to stand in front of Juan, who was quaking with fear.
