“Chiquita?” I say the word more as an exhalation than anything else.
“Daddy.” It’s garbled, almost like a grunt.
We’re both careful in case the room is bugged. I’m fairly certain it is.
Where the hell are we?
Chapter Twenty
Vita
This isn’t the worst I’ve ever felt, but death would be mercy. I feel as though I’m a disembodied soul with the worst migraine ever known to man. Whatever they drugged me with is giving me an out-of-body experience. But before they drugged me, one of the biggest guys I’ve ever seen took a crowbar to the side of my head. Fortunately, he didn’t use the end with the hook, or he probably would’ve gouged a chunk of my brain out. He also didn’t apply the full force he could’ve. There’s no way I would’ve survived it.
As I come around, I do my best not to give away that I’m awake. It’s the most reassuring feeling I’ve ever had when I spot Alejandro to my left. He looks like absolute shit. It makes me reconsider how badly off I must be. It’s clear somebody went to town on him. There’s blood on his shirt and collar from a gash on his right cheek. It looks like bruises already cover his face, and it looks like his shoulder isn’t sitting in place. I pray it’s just the angle they tied him, and that it’s not dislocated.
I evaluate my body in more detail, beginning with wiggling my toes inside my shoes. I’m working my way up by flexing my calves and thighs, my glutes. I hardly think this is the timeand the place to test a Kegel, so I skip that. I bend my fingers and contract my arms. When I’m confident everything is still in one piece—albeit painfully—I respond to Alejandro’s concerned voice.
“Chiquita?”
“Daddy.”
It’s more of a grunt than a word because my throat is so sore from earlier, when one of our attackers wrapped his hand around it and squeezed until I thought my head would explode. I do my best to keep my lips from moving as I speak barely louder than a whisper since I’m certain this room is bugged.
“Where are we?”
Hopefully, Alejandro has a clue, since I don’t know how long we’ve been out and how far we traveled. I’m not that knowledgeable of New York and New Jersey. I mostly know Manhattan and a few spots in the outer boroughs like Jackson Heights.
“I don’t know,chica.”
I allow my eyes to open a little wider, enough for me to sweep my gaze over our surroundings. It’s difficult to tell whether we’re in a warehouse or a basement. It’s just concrete walls and floor. There are no windows, no storage shelves or equipment. It’s an entirely wide-open space that’s disconcerting as fuck. The only objects—besides us—are the two chairs we’re sitting on. There’s truly no way to know what time it is or even what part of the day or night we’re in.
It’s essentially sensory deprivation, since it’s all so silent in here except for when Alejandro and I whisper. There’s no hint of a scent, not even mustiness. I strain to hear anything that might be in the distance. It’s as though we’re in a complete void.
“How long do you think we were out?”
We continue to whisper so softly that I have to guess at some of Alejandro’s words.
“My best guess is a few hours. I wouldn’t feel this shitty if it were less than two. Soreness has set in. What hurts the most,chica?”
“My head. It’s as though my arms and legs are numb, yet I can feel how stiff they are when I try to move them.”
“Same.”
“Your shoulder? It looks dislocated?”
“No. It’s just the way they tied me.”
“What do you think they used?”
I dread his answer since it could be any number of narcotics or poisons.
“I have no idea, but we have a doctor on staff for anything that exceeds Madeline orTíaMargherita’s abilities. They can both do far more than a midwife should. They can deliver babies and perform emergency medicine, but they have limitations.”
We fall quiet for a few minutes as we both consider our surroundings.
“Do you see the camera?”
Alejandro lets his head loll to the right as though he passed out again. I do the same, except my head lolls to the left. We’re not sitting close enough to touch, but it shrinks the distance between us, even if it’s only psychological.
