Page 42 of Morena
I just nodded and held her hand, trembling. I didn’t know what was going on, and I didn’t want to know. All I knew was that maybe the ghost was right, maybe it was my time, maybe all this pain should end with me.
Carmen lifted me and guided me across the hallway to her bedroom. After we entered, the first thing I saw was Carlos sitting at the window.
I sat on the bed, and Carmen kissed my forehead. As she left the room and closed the door, I walked to the window and looked at Carlos.
“Hi,” he said, looking at me. “You look like you want to run away.”
I nodded and wiped my tears away.
“Jump,” he said, jumping onto a dumpster below him and then to the ground.
3“¿Estás loco?” I shouted.
He shook his head and pointed below. There was another dumpster that would break my fall.
“I will catch you,” he said with a chuckle.
He did not have to tell me twice, so I just lowered myself out the window and let my body drop. My bare feet hit the rim of the dumpster.
“See,” he said, “you’re alive.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Barely.”
He lifted me from the ground and carried me in his arms. “You are not walking barefoot.”
“Oh,” I said, “qué romántico.”
He opened the car door for me in his red cabriolet and lowered me into the front seat. Then he got in and turned on the engine.
The car moved and he said something, but at first I did not register his words. I couldn’t. All I could think about was escaping, leaving this town. Still, I knew I couldn’t leave my sister behind, no matter how badly she acted.
We drove five minutes outside town and stopped on a hill that overlooked the town. When the car stopped, he opened my door and stepped out.
I didn’t get out. He sat down on the grass and looked at me.
“What are you doing, Carlos?” I asked, smiling.
“Looking at you,” he said, grinning, then he came closer.
“What are you doing, Carlos?” I asked again as his hand hovered above my skin. He just smiled and moved closer.
He didn’t say a word. He just grabbed my wrists and shoved me to the ground. I scrambled back, crawling, but the sound of his zipper split the silence. I knew what was coming. I pushed onto my knees, ready to run, but he was faster. His hand clamped around my ankle and yanked me closer.
He rolled me onto my stomach and pinned me down. No matter how much I resisted, he didn’t care. My nails raked his arms, my groans tore from my throat, but it was like he didn’tfeel any of it. He was possessed, as if this was what he had wanted from the first moment.
“You want it,” he growled, mouth dragging against my neck.
“No.” My voice cracked. I shoved at his chest. “No!”
But my jeans were already being forced down. His hand slid lower, fingers pressing down on my clit, where I didn’t want him, rubbing first, then pushing inside me.
My body reacted, wetness spreading where I wanted nothing but emptiness. My own body is betraying me.How could it? How could it side with him?
Tears spilled down my cheeks. I squeezed my thighs shut, but he pried me open, his grip bruising.
“So wet for me,” he whispered.
For him? For him? Him?
