Page 33 of Haze of Obedience
I straighten up and make my way through the house to the grand ballroom.
Penelope squeezes my hand, and she sits at Santiago's table. His thug guides me to the front of the stage.
There are over one hundred men, and they all begin to shout, whistle, and make lewd comments.
You're just on stage. Deal with it, or you'll be back in the cell.
The lights go down and a boy who's maybe thirteen hands me a microphone.
It's the first time I've sung sober in years. The first song takes a few notes to get into it, but then I forget about Santiago and his crew. For several hours, I lose myself in my music.
When it's over, the adrenaline I used to feel from a performance races through my veins. But I'm snapped back into real life when his thug grabs me and locks me in the bedroom.
Penelope doesn't come back for several days. I pace the room all night, and the next day. Every night, I have to perform. When I'm on stage, I see her sitting next to Santiago. When she finally comes back, she won't tell me where she's been, but I also don't push her.
Several nights, I sing and am allowed to wear clothes. On these nights, Santiago's brother Nicolas is present. They sit at the same table, and the daughter of the U.S. President is with him. She sits next to Penelope, and they talk throughout the evening.
I question Penelope about it, but she once again doesn't want to answer.
Life becomes a routine that I fall into. Santiago is the Master. I am his slave and do whatever he tells me to. In some ways, it's easier than when I was with Jonas. Most of the time, I only have to shave, look good, and perform on stage.
But it's a mistake to get comfortable. A long time passes. It could be a year. I'm not sure, and neither is Penelope. One night, Santiago's men storm in our room and drag Penelope and me out. We take nothing. They shove us into a vehicle. We drive for days, and when we finally stop and get out, we're in the jungle.
A teenage boy slides a ladder into a hole. "Get in." His voice cracks from puberty.
We climb down into our new home. The pit is cold and dirty, but when I get to the bottom, a woman throws her arms around me. "Zoe, thank God. I thought you were dead!"
She must be a fan.
Poor woman. What did she do to get on Santiago's bad side?
"I'm okay. And you are?"
"I'm Julietta."
I stare at her in the darkness.
"You don't remember me?"
This is embarrassing.
"I'm sorry. Were you backstage at one of my concerts?"
Her eyes widen, and a mix of hurt and disgust fills her face.
Crap.
"I'm sorry. I have a lot of performances and meet dozens of people a night after each show. I hope you're okay...since you're here and all?"
A deep line forms between her eyes, and she frowns.
Penelope clears her throat. "I'm Penelope. But we've met before. You probably don't remember me. I was on—"
"The flight to Guatemala. Yes, I remember you. I'm glad you're alive too."
"You two were on the same flight? What a coincidence!" I beam.
Julieta tilts her head. "You were on several of my flights as well."
