La Rosa Del Sur (The Rose of the south)

Chapter 20

Chapter 20
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I faded in and out of consciousness, each time only catching a glimpse of my captors. All in black, they kept their eyes on me, sparkling dangerously within their covered faces. One, I can recall, holding a gun to my head. It was the same person, each time I woke for a moment. I could tell because of their eyes. They weren't the same as the others' eyes. Their eyes were green and sparkled like the others, but with a different emotion. They seemed almost sad.

I woke with a start, this time. I squinted in the dim light, my eyes struggling to adjust. I shifted my position and hissed, feeling a familiar searing pain in my leg. I tried to swing my legs around as gently as I could, and leaned my back against the nearest wall, taking deep, shuddering breaths as I fought back a wave of tears.

My eyes had adjusted now, I could see most of my surroundings. The holding cell wasn't anything special. All the walls seemed to be made of stone, with an iron bar door. There was one small window, very high up, a square cut out of the stone. A bit of sunlight streamed through, creating a small spot of light on the ground.

Once I'd settled myself as comfortably as I could against the stone, I gave a great sigh, and tentatively looked down at my injured leg. It wasn't a pretty sight. There was a great mound where the bullet had gone in, and my leg was an icky red-brown color. Some of the blood hadn't completely dried. I began to reach down and cursed loudly, as pain shot through my previously injured shoulder. It must've been aggravated during the attack.

"That is quite a foul mouth you have on you," I stilled, immediately upon hearing the voice. I hadn't realized there was someone else in here. I turned my head towards the corner it had come from.

"Wh- who's there?" I stammered. My mouth felt like sandpaper.

There was a slight chuckle. "A dead man. I don't know why they keep me alive anymore. They're just going to kill me in the end." There was something about the voice that seemed different. It was low and rough, like someone who'd smoked for almost half of his life. I wanted to clear my own throat just hearing the voice.

"Can- can you come into the light?" I asked. "So I can see you."

"I wish I could," The voice grumbled. "But they shackled me here." I heard the clink of chains. "If you would like to come closer, you can."

I hesitated. There could be someone vile in that corner, chained up because they were dangerous. But for some reason, the voice didn't seem malicious. It was almost familiar.

"If I come over to you," I said, leaning towards the corner. "Do you promise not to hurt me."

"I don't think I could ever bring myself to hurt you," The voice said, much softer this time. I hesitated for a minute longer, then made up my mind. Ever so slowly, I raised myself, gripping the stone wall for support. Once I was on my knees, I crawled cautiously over to the corner, wincing at the streaks of pain whizzing through my leg and shoulder with each step. I was almost a foot away from the corner when I was able to make out the figure from which the voice. I stopped short and gasped.

There, with chains cuffed to his wrists and ankles, battered, beaten, and terribly thin, was the last person I'd thought I would ever see. Mi abuelo. I put a hand over my mouth to stifle the sob that escaped my lips. All this year I'd thought him dead, thought he'd perished along with tía Victoria. Yet here he was. Bruised and skinny as a matchstick, but alive.

"P- please tell me you're real," I choked out, tears beginning to stream down my face freely now. I wiped them away frantically, trying to keep my vision clear. Abuelo leaned forward, his chains clanking, and put a hand on my cheek. I closed my eyes at the contact.