Our Forced Love

𝒯𝓌ℯ𝓃𝓉𝓎-𝒮ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓃

Aurora

As I pierced the tip of my finger with the knife, a twisted smile crept across my face, despite the sharp sting of pain. The blade was mercilessly sharp—like a steak knife honed to its finest edge. I smeared the blood across the mark on my finger, my heart racing with hope. It would work. It had to work. This was now the third, almost fourth week of my captivity, and something inside me whispered that Antonio was close to finding me. That thought ignited a flicker of optimism in the darkness surrounding me.

Santiago had just left my cell, and oddly enough, he chose to share stories about his parents. He told me I reminded him of his mother, describing her as graceful and kind hearted. I wanted to laugh in his face. 'You lock me up, and yet I remind you of your mother?' The irony was infuriating. But I kept my mouth shut; if I wanted my plan to succeed, I had to play the game a little longer.

I missed Antonio. I buried my emotions beneath a facade of positivity, but his absence gnawed at me like a relentless predator. I craved his touch, his voice, the warmth of his presence. Each day apart only deepened my determination to break free from this hell.

As the days dragged on, a growing confidence surged within me—a silent vow to defeat Santiago when the moment came. I could feel Antonio searching for me, and that was all that mattered.

There was a maid who visited occasionally, Rosie. She seemed to be around my age, and she always tried to strike up a conversation. I engaged her with small talk, discovering bits of her life. She had a two-year-old son named Niko, and the father was one of the guards here. I couldn't help but wonder if she, too, was trapped against her will, perhaps granted some leeway because of her child.

She showed me pictures of Niko—a sweet little boy who looked just like her. As I gazed at his innocent face, I felt a tug at my heartstrings. I couldn't shake the feeling that we needed to save her too, but that plan felt far-fetched in this twisted reality.

The sound of approaching footsteps jolted me from my thoughts, and I quickly hid the knife beneath the bed. It was Rosie, bringing my lunch. "Hi, Aurora," she greeted with a warm smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Hi, Rosie. How are you?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

"I've been better," she replied, her voice lacking its usual cheer. As she bent down to place my food on the tray, I caught sight of a bruise blooming on her cheek.

"What the hell is that?" I exclaimed, my heart sinking. She looked up at me, sadness pooling in her eyes.

"It's fine, Aurora," she sniffed, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Rosie, please." I stood up and gently rubbed her back, trying to comfort her. She collapsed against me, sobbing, and my heart shattered at the sight. Someone had hurt her—why would anyone want to harm the sweetest person I knew? "Tell me what happened," I urged, my voice steady but laced with concern.

"Niko's dad..." she began, wiping her tears. "He got so drunk last night and wanted... well, you know. But I was just trying to get Niko to sleep. Aurora, he slapped me so hard, I almost dropped my baby." Her words sent a chill down my spine. I gasped softly, and where there was sadness, a fierce anger ignited within me. How could anyone hurt her?

"Oh, Rosie. It's going to be okay," I whispered, holding her tighter. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No," she said, her voice trembling. "He has a drinking problem, but he's never hit me before. I'll try to talk to him—see if we can fix this. I hate that it happened." She wiped her tears and walked out of my cell, leaving me with a knot of fury and helplessness.