Page 11 of Shadows of the Past
I kept telling myself it didn’t matter. That I was alive. That I needed to get to the twins.
After Martin almost dragged me into the bathroom to clean up, he handed me some clothes and threw me back into the same car. I was never left alone until I arrived in Russia.
How will I go back to the girls?God, my uncle must be terrified. What if my parents managed to escape and don't know about me?
A voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and when I lift my gaze, I look into his gray eyes, which are narrowed in frustration.
He has such beautiful eyes, like the color of the sky before a storm.
“Excuse me, I didn’t hear,” I say in a low voice.
I need to be submissive. I shouldn’t be seen as a problem. This is the only way I’ll be able to escape this place. Maybe I can even set the whole house on fire when I leave.Hmm…
The man closes in, and despite being taller and strong enough to crush me with one hand, there’s something in his eyes that tells me he’s different from the others. My mom always said you can tell a person’s goodness by their gaze; his eyes aren’t cruel. They’re not like Martin’s or that brute’s earlier. His eyes are like two mirrors reflecting the soul, and if you look closely, you can see a flicker of light in the corner. And that light is good. Maybe I wasn’t fully aware when I was raped, but I know that light no longer shines the same in my eyes now.
I feel tainted. Dirty.
“I asked where you are from.” His face is inches from mine.
I swallow hard and respond.
“Mexico.” I know he catches the accent too.
I speak English fluently, but I never left my home country until now, and my accent is evident in every word.
“Rogelio?” he asks, his tone carrying a hint of threat.
“Sí,” I reply, bowing my head.
His gaze is too heavy for my soul, and I know it wouldn’t take much for him to see that I’m left with only shards; nothing remains whole. And for whatever reason, it bothers me.
He gestures for me to enter a bedroom on the left. Unlike the room before, this one is clean and impersonal. A large bed with black linens sits in the middle, and there are two concretenightstands, a library covering an entire wall, and a desk with some computers. That’s about it.
He signals for me to be quiet, and I frown. He pulls out a device resembling a pen and scans the room, passing over all objects and walls, even climbing onto a chair to check the ceiling.
Okay. What the hell is going on?
I’m convinced these people are involved in human trafficking, and during the entire journey here, I vowed to survive anything. Anything to go back to my family. But this guy scares me now.
Maybe he’s insane.
When he seems satisfied with his brief stint of espionage, he turns to me and catches my “Did you take your pills today, pal?” gaze.
“I had to make sure no one planted bugs while I was away,” he explains.
The surprise is written all over my face. He scanned the room for microphones?
Diosito, what kind of Matrix have I stumbled into?
“You mean the man from earlier?” I ask to ensure we’re talking about the same person.
His nod is all I get. He sits on the bed with his hands on his knees.
“What will you do with me?” I whisper, unable to focus on anything else.
He lifts his head, and once again, his intense gaze pierces through me. He appears a few years older than me, and compared to Martin, there’s a certain allure to him.
But that doesn’t matter.He’ll still hurt you!
