Dark Lust

PROLOGUE

Prologue

I remember my mom telling me that it was not always necessary to be inquisitive. She believed that curiosity was good, but also dangerous. As she would say, "Amor, tenha cuidado. A curiosidade mata," which translates careful love, curiosity kills. I wish I had listened; it would've saved me from a lot of trouble and heartache. Now I know, when curiosity doesn't kill, it destroys you, especially when you get caught at the wrong place or you hear a secret that was never meant to be revealed.

The streets had ears where I grew up and I knew its tactics. Clearly, I never agreed with my mom's statement and how she viewed the world. I was ambitious for knowledge, a world where nothing would ever stand in my way, where the sun was the limit. I believed that as a woman, one would only succeed if having power. Of course, power is not always given; sometimes, you have to go for it, even if it'd mean to break a few rules. I cannot play the victim card anymore; I have to be what those who count on me need me to be. I have to become more than a woman. Perhaps the devil himself.

I sit in my cell, watching my inmate workout, doing her third set of pushups. Her form was sturdy, her back well defined, with prominent muscles rippling beneath her skin. She had her thick hair in a short pony, and a shirt over her sports bra. Then she dropped to her side, catching her breath from the intense reps, and glanced up at me. "Why sit here sulking? No working out today?" She asked, her accent heavy and words brief. Her name was Marie Pierre-Jean. She had crossed the U.S Border with her husband and 12 year-old daughter. But some horrible things happened to them, which she was always hesitant to talk about with me. But now that I'm here serving my 10 year sentence, we've gotten closer, and she's the only person I ever managed to trust after what I've endured over the years.

"I'm getting parole," I respond, in deep thoughts, feeling the weight of my own words. If something goes wrong, I might end up staying here for the rest of my life. In captivity, for a crime I didn't commit.I might never be able to convince anyone of my innocence due to some powerful influences behind those bars. Outside, very close, there's a man who promised to keep me here, in captivity as he would say, unless I take his deal. I can't accept this deal, for it would only switch off the humanity in me, something I'm surprised and yet proud to still have. The ability to show mercy, empathy, and feel. "I found a lawyer who was interested in my case. Hopefully, this one does not run away this time. The last was assaulted and blackmailed to abandon the case. It had been done purposefully, to prevent me from getting out. I am surprised I still have a little hope in me after two years of rejections and disappointments. I can only hope, for it keeps me sane and grounded.

"How do you feel?" Marie asked, sitting up and crossing her legs together.
"Terrified," I reply, shuffling my hands through my locs, covering my back like a thick tapestry that catches each glint of light in the cell. They're heavy, but I refuse to cut them because they remind me of my mother, her textured cornrows, neat and full, saturated with oils, placing me between her lap to braid my tresses. She cared for me to her very last breath, and maybe that's one thing I'll never be able to get over. Being behind bars and accused of killing her, my own mother. Not only do I have to deal with the pain of losing her, but also being painted as a merciless killer.
"You know I'm here for you," Marie empathizes, removing her sweaty shirt. She gets off the floor, and looks behind her. There's one of the guards in the hallway, keeping an eye on us. Marie motions at him, and he comes close discreetly, and I notice her half smile as he leans against the bars. The guards' eyes are dangerously lustful gazing into hers, traveling down her chest, observing each drop of sweat running their course between the cracks of her bra. I wish I had not seen that, but everyone has secrets in this black hole, and that is theirs. I am becoming an accomplice. This guard's name is Luciann, and he has sneaked sometimes into the cell late at night, and I would hear him and Marie, reminding me of my lonely misery. Prison is truly hell. Nothing can be a secret anymore, not even intimacy.
"I need pads," she whispers to him, "they're done. And for my homegirl too."
"What about the stick ones you put in? I brought you plenty before," he said, looking oblivious. I snorted out a laugh, him not realizing how ridiculous he sounded. They ignored me, and he threw a pill bottle inside before withdrawing so he wasn't caught. Marie rushes to get the bottle, and I roll my eyes realizing they're birth controls.
"Really? Now your lover is putting you on plan b?" I say, shaking my head.
"Abbi, not right now. These pills help with the pain," she says. "You don't understand, I see. Besides, I don't have access to any herbs around here."
Before I can show any form of regret for my judgy comments, Luciann comes close again, his frown warning us not to be too friendly and go along with the act. He approaches and unlocks the cell and gestures at me to step forward. "Number 4865, your new lawyer is here. C'mon, let's go."
I follow him, each step echoing in the cold, sterile hallway, amplifying my nerves. This meeting could be a turning point in my life, a chance for a new beginning, or simply another loop of deception. I'm almost at the secure visiting area, my mind racing with a thousand questions and what-ifs. I have heard of this new lawyer's reputation, but the uncertainty of our partnership is hanging in the air, filling me with uncertainty. The thought of laying bare my story to a stranger all over again, combined with the oppressive weight of my current circumstances, adds to my anxiety. How can I go over the day I held my mother lifeless in my arms, bathed in her own blood? How can I explain that I was not the killer?
The heavy door finally swings open, and I step into the room, where the lawyer waits on the other side of a glass partition. He has his back facing me, and I am eager to see his face and hear the hope and plans he has to win my case. We have to win, for another year in this cell, I might be better off dead in a coffin.
With a deep breath, I steel myself, hoping that this meeting will bring clarity in the daunting journey ahead. I sit, and Luciann handcuffs one of my hands to the sturdy table. Then, the man moves a step back, then another, until he turns to face me. My heart drops. Five years I have not seen this face, and today he is standing in front of me. I should've already been able to tell it was him by his height. He was 6"6, heavily built, dressed in a tailored gray suit, his hands just as muscular as his veiny and dragon-covered tattooed hands.
"Hola Abigail. I missed you," he said chalantly, showing his diamond grills as he briefly smiled. I look down at the handcuff, wishing to run from him, but there's no escape. He makes sure of it. Trapping me has always been his easiest skill. My chest rises, giving away my anticipation of him being so close. I don't know what he will do, or why he's here. I wish I could read his mind, for my butt shakes from my chair, making it hard to sit still.
"No worries, no voy to harm you," he said in a cuban accent. I forgot he speaks like that, in broken english when he's not acting out of character. That is the real him, the one who makes me shake, but also weak even when all I should do is to hate him. "I am no killer, pero surprisingly, you are, Abbi."
"Why are you here?" I finally gather the courage to ask.
"To see you, claro. Why else? I care about you."
"If you did, you wouldn't trap me here. You-You set me up. You betrayed me. You dirtied my name. You took everything from me. My life, my name, my reputation, my dignity, and..."
"And?"
"My womanhood. And you didn't give a damn."
"And? You have nothing else that I took?" He says, his face disappointed. "What about I took care of you? That you were the light of my eye and you destroyed it all. Tell me, if you compare me to you, who's worse, Abbi? Pero amor, I am not here to talk about us. I'm here to offer you a deal."
"What deal?" I ask.
"Plead guilty and take the insanity plea," he replies. "You have a history of mental disorders in your family. So, That should be easy."
"That won't be enough."
"Of course it won't be," he snorts, rolling his eyes out of annoyance. "That's why I'll make sure I work a few tricks to get you out."
"You'll bribe the judge?" I question, already knowing the answer.
"Now, for the second part of the deal, my brother will be the lawyer taking over your case, not me. And after, I want you to marry me."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because you'll owe me. Besides, your skills will be needed."
"I'm not working for you anymore," I rebuke.
"Fine. No problemo amor, if you're okay with another 5 years here, it's fine," he says, shrugging. "The last time I offered you a deal, you didn't want it. Then what happened? You trusted in those mediocre lawyers to get you out—"
"No," I cut him off, "You made sure to intimidate them and made them drop the case. I know you! You're the devil. I should've known before falling for you."
"Too bad," he purses his lips, gorging his ego onto my comment. I shouldn't have said that. He does not deserve seeing me so vulnerable. In fact, I am. I feel naked in front of him. His eyes make me feel things. They make me long for him, but mostly remember the monster he is and what's capable of. "I tried to help." He grabs his briefcase and gets up, ready to take his leave. If he crosses that door, there would be no hope at all. I could take my chances with him and wish he's sincere. "Wait!" I cry for him, and he turns slowly, surprised. "I'll take the deal. Let's do it."