Dangerous Infatuation

History

A sort of "plan" has been formed in my mind. The thoughts of a disturbed girl are about to come to life. You could call it stalking, you could call it fate. Fate - influenced by Sophia.

The husband is dropping me to work this morning. It's all part of the "be nice to Sophia, so she forgets I shouted at her and will worship me again" act.
Worship you, I no longer do...!
There was a time where my husband was my saviour. I did worship him!
He saved me from a life of being the abused orphan girl.
We lived in La Habana, Cuba's capital city, amongst the busy professionals, wealthy Spaniards and drug trafficking.
At 15 my parents died, my papi was murdered by a drunk driver on his way home from work.
Unable to cope with the loss of my father, my mother didn't give a fuck about me, she overdosed on drugs washed down with ridiculous amounts of rum and beer. Apparently her death wasn't suicide, but an unfortunate ending to a night of intoxication fueled by heartbreak and depression.
I beg to differ! She was psychotic, she was not the motherly type, I was a mistake and she made this clear. She was jealous of the attention and love my papi drowned me in. The irrational jealousy towards her own child, mixed with bipolar disorder, meant our mother-daughhter bond was non existent.
With my father gone she had nothing to live for, she despised me, but was inlove with him. The love of her life was gone and her daughter was her burden.
My aunty came to collect me after news of the witchs death and off I went to live with her, in an unfamiliar province of Cuba.
One night her husband came home drunk and violated my innocence.
He played with my virginity, but never won. For two hours he invaded my body, my arms tied above my head, I was powerless to resist.
The next day I stole all the money my pathetic aunt had "hidden" in a drawer. I went back to La Habana and deleted all details of the abuse from my mind. Occasionally these repressed memories surface to consciousness and I'm haunted with flashbacks of his torture.

Eventually I crossed paths with Alejandro , the husband. I wanted his attention and I got it. I used to see him around and was capitaved by his charisma. He was forbidden to me by papi, who once caught me staring at him in awe. He was way too old and way too illegal for a "nice girl like me".
But with no guardians and alone in La Habana, I was free to associate with whom I wished.
The attraction was reciprocated, obviously. Alejandro was intrigued by me, like most men are.
Maybe they sense the fire and hint of insanity within me. Once you get lost within my mania, it's addictive and at times, unfortunately, they never want to leave.
I lied about my age and we dated.
My age was revealed, but we got engaged anyway, Alejandro was already hooked on his drug that was me. I suffered two miscarriages and he hurriedly married me, claiming me as his, forever!
Now I'm in London, out of love with my saviour and fantasising over breaking one of the ten commandments, "Thou shall not commit adultery".