Memories of a Life That Never Happened

Chapter 73 - Dirty Tricks

A spasmodic cough woke her up. All at once, Mica became painfully aware of the throbbing headache and the oppressive heat.  

It was hard to breath and her eyes stung, forcing her to shut them as soon as they opened. For that split second, she glimpsed streaks of light that now echoed inside her head, changing colors. She tried to sit but felt light-headed and gave up mid-way.  

Her forearm touched her brow and Mica noticed she was soaked in sweat. She thought she heard faint voices, but was not entirely sure.  

Sick and confused, Mica tried to focus and listen. Heartbeats pounded too loud in her ears.  

Where was she? Was this what death felt like? Perpetual pain and suffering were not quite the afterlife she envisioned, so Mica preferred to believe she was still alive.  

Amidst the haze of her thoughts, Mica saw a man. He sat hunched, in the dark, on a chair in front of her. His eyes were downcast. He stared at the ground. A flickering neon lamp on the ceiling made her queasy.  

The room was dreary and pitch-black. There were no windows, no walls and no floor. It was as if she had fallen through a crack straight to hell. 

They were the only ones there. The Devil and her. A strong scent of manure infested her nostrils and she heard what sounded like fire crackling even though she saw none. Hellfire was invisible, she figured. And hot. So much so that it made her throat itch. Mica coughed again.  

The man turned his attention to her. For a moment, Mica thought she would see the fat man. The same eyes that stared drunkenly at her when the door of the shack cracked open. But no, the eyes staring at her did not belong to her persecutor. As the slit-eyed man raised his gaze to meet hers, Mica realized this was her stepfather. 

A chill ran through her body. In spite of the heat, Mica shivered, not at all relieved. Escobar stood up and strut to her, shoulders swinging slowly. As a lion, he looked dangerously calm. Barefoot, he seemed to be walking over a void, each calculated step exuding confidence.  

Escobar closed the distance between them and jabbed a menacing finger in her face. "I told you to stay away from them".  

Saliva propelled from his mouth as he spoke. Mica flinched.  

"Now they are going to kill you. Are you happy?" His voice was abnormally cold. "Did you even think of your mother, worrying sick in her hospital bed?" 

Mica said nothing, but a tear escaped her eyes.  

"Crying is not going to help you," Escobar scolded. 

Even though she considered his wrath justified, the whip in his tone crushed her. Mica had never seen Escobar this mad, which only made her feel guiltier. 

"Do you know who else is crying?" her stepfather continued. "Julian. You left him alone all day. He thinks we abandoned him." 

Her heart shriveled to a raisin. It was true. With Jacira and Escobar in the hospital, Julian needed her to be by his side. To sooth him.  

"I shouldn't have left him with Sandra." The words came out choked. Her nose was running and yet she could bring herself to wipe it. Breathing grew harder. 

"No, you should not. You failed him."  

Escobar had never been so ruthless nor spoken to her this way. Mica could hardly recognize him. 

"I'm so sorry," she wept meekly.  

"Are you now? What kind of person relegates her baby brother for her boyfriend?" 

"He's not my boyfriend," Mica feeling she had disappointed everyone she cared for. 

At last, as she tilted her chin up to face him. Escobar started laughing.  

His face was half-covered in the dark. All Mica could see were eyes like burning coals glowing red in the dark.  

Not in her wildest dreams had Mica ever thought the day would come when she would be scared of her stepfather. Nevertheless, here it was. She never felt so alone. 

"Mica" he said in a voice colder than midnight sand.  

"That's not-that's not your voice," she stammered and the room started spinning. 

He laughed again, and cocked the lamp onto himself. Escobar's face bloated and contorted until the person in front of her was someone else entirely. The fat man stared at her with a hair-raising sneer on his lips.  

"I'm going to kill them. They're all going to die because of you," he gloated, visibly rejoicing in her agony.  

Mica would cry without shame, but the tears refused to come. Inside her, there was only misery. She was dying. The knot closing within her throat told her so. 

"How?" she barely managed to whisper.  

Except for an eyebrow that rose, the man did not move.  

"How do you know I was going to meet Theo?"  

"Mica," someone called far, far away.  

The flickering light dimmed until darkness was her only companion. Then Mica heard her name again, this time a little louder.  

Opening her eyes was a herculean endeavor. Once more, they stung and, because of that, Mica knew they were open even though she saw nothing.  

Surrounded by night, Mica tried to speak and realized she was gagged. One nightmare was over and another had just begun. Her attention turned to her wrists and ankles. All tied up.  

Mica could not see, could not move and could not scream. She felt helpless and scared as never before. It occurred to her that if she were still among the living, it would not be for long.  

The next thing she noticed was the smell of charred wood. Were they going to burn her? It was a surefire way to get rid of thorny evidences. 

"Mica, are you there?" This time, the voice was near and perfectly audible.  

Mica grunted as loud as she could.  

Something was scraping the low ceiling. Beam by beam, light pierced through the darkness. A trapdoor squeaked open above head and a silhouette peered down at the center of a dark blue rectangle.  

A flashlight shone in her face and had Mica close her eyes. 

"Dear God!" a voice exclaimed. "Over here!" it shouted. 

Someone jumped next to her and swift hands freed first her mouth then her limbs. Meanwhile, more hurried footsteps approached. 

Mica opened her eyes again. A blonde man with watery blue eyes was looking at her. His strong arms lifted her body, and then careful hands pulled Mica up to lay her gently on the ground.  

Mica realized she was in one of the tents. She glanced down at her cage, saw a rough pit dug on the ground, covered by a trapdoor.  

Shaking hands cupped her face and fresh tears sprinkled her forehead.  

"Oh, cariño! Cariño!" 

Escobar who cradled her tight in his arms. His eyes scanned her body worryingly, looking for signs of injuries.  

"What happened to you? What have they done to you?"  

"We must take her to the hospital," a female voice said sternly.  

Unknown hands washed her face and neck with water. The pleasure of this simple act, so typical of life, was enough for her to break down.  

"Will she be ok?" Concern filled Escobar's voice while Mica convulsed from crying.  

"She'll be fine, but right now we must get her to the hospital." 

The last thing Mica felt was her body floating. Then she submerged into a heavy sleep, where not even nightmares could chase her.