Strong-willed, badass and bounded by the chains of an arranged marriage, Isabela Arias dreams of the freedom to live and love as she chooses.
Being sold to the Italian mafia wasn't exactly on Isabela's to do list...
As she's forced to navigate the r...
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Guilt.
It's an emotion that grips you like a thick branch of vine, dragging you through depths of grief. As if there weren't enough for me to feel guilty for— I did something unforgivable. I took advantage of Isabela, the girl I love more than anything. Kissing her when she so clearly wants to keep the distance between us— how could I swoop so low?
Psst.
I deserved to get beaten to a pulp. How could I assume something? What kind of guy am I if I don't reassure her by asking for her consent? I'm disgusted with myself. If I didn't serve Isabela some kind of purpose— I would drown myself in the pool.
But besides Isabela, I had two other girls in my life relying on me. The weight from all the circumstances weighs on my shoulders like a metal chain, pulling me into a whirlwind tide wave. My attention shifts back to reality as the pounding on the door gets louder. I don't even remember walking in here.
One of the lights above the wide mirror flickers like in those creepy horror movies. My hands submerge in the body of water in the sink. I think I came in here to freshen up. It's been years since I touched alcohol, and I regretted touching it tonight. My body feels like absolute shit. It's decaying from within, rejecting the filth I forced down my throat.
My stomach feels uneasy, threatening to uncork itself any second. To think I used to crave this feeling, crave the need for a drink. There wasn't an ounce of satisfaction when the vodka went down my throat.
Maybe all of this was a lost cause.
Maybe coming back here was a mistake.
Maybe this is a wake up call.
To focus on the people who want me, who rely on me, who need me to make it out alive. But the missing piece is the one girl I can't sell to the wolves. It's time for me to go, to figure my shit out. Be better for someone.
"Hell-fucking-lo?!" a feminine voice shouts, banging on the door.
She toys with the handle, almost pulling the door off its hinges from her aggressive outburst. She must really need to pee. Once she stops playing with the handle and groans, I unlock it and she wobbles right in. Her eyebrows furrow in a tense knot, but subside as we both realize who we are.
"Julian," Julieta says. "S-sorry, I didn't mean to be so aggressive. I just really had to pee. I'm literally just a girl."
I laugh. "Don't worry about it. We all get a little tense when we need to go."
Julieta didn't even wait for me to get out the door before she plopped herself on the toilet. She moaned in relief. My chest felt a heavy amount of awkwardness, and I slip past the half open door.
"Wait!" she shouted, followed by the clicks of a pair of heels and a thud.
With her undergarments hanging around her ankles, Julieta's body was on the floor, and luckily, the universe decided to save her from any more embarrassment. Everything was covered. For a split moment, I debated over running for the hills or helping the poor girl out— I didn't know which would save her any grace.
