TW: This chapter deals with the notion of consent and non-consensual sex. If that’s a sensitive subject for you, you might want to skip it.

“Fuck me.”

“Again?” he panted. “Holy shit, Gordita. Alright, but give me a minute.”

I laid naked in a bed of hay, back still arched, toes still curled, arms still lasciviously snaking above my head, knees still shaking, hips still rolling, and cheeks still flush with a passionate red.

I felt good, for a minute– while I still felt the warmth in the bottom of my stomach, and the soft chills running up my spine. While drops of sweat still rolled down my breasts like a dozen shiny diamonds. While his winded breaths still synchronized with mine.

“Sorry,” I chuckled. “I didn’t mean 'fuck me’ fuck me, but more like ‘wow’ fuck me.”

Pablo graced me with a satisfied grin, and fell back onto the haystack.

“So you liked it?” he asked.

Did I? Did I like it?

Did I like having sex with my kidnapper? The man who’d locked me up, drugged me, hurt me, lied to me, done everything to make sure I had neither will nor way to escape?

Why did I like it? Why did I tell him to fuck me, and why did I smile as he did it? Was the sight of a middle-aged bicep, stubbly dimples and an average-sized dick enough to make me forget all my principles?

I closed my legs, and slid an arm across my bare chest. I turned to Pablo and smiled softly. He smiled back, but then his eyebrows drew together and his lips curled in, as if he was worried about me.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “It was fun.”

“Is there something wrong?” he murmured.

Why would there be something wrong? I wanted this. I asked for this. I started it, not him. I enjoyed it. Moaned all through it. I liked it. I loved it. After a year and a half of not being touched, or even feeling desired, I might even say I needed it.

There was nothing wrong. I was okay. I was going to be fine. This situation was just weird. But it was okay. It wasn’t messed up. I wasn’t messed up. Everything was okay.

“Everything is okay,” I answered, echoing the thoughts in my head.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

I smiled at him, and squeezed his fingers with my free hand. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t do anything wrong. All he did was to be handsome and nice enough that I fell victim to his charm.

“Pablo,” I whispered. “Where’s my shirt?”

“Ah, uh, I think I threw it in this corner,” he muttered. He covered his parts, stood up, and stumbled over bags of feed to grab the piece of fabric he’d ripped off of me just a few minutes ago, and tossed it back towards me.

“Great,” I mumbled. “And where are the buttons?”

“The buttons– oh, shit,” he said. “Did they all pop off?”

“All of them, except these two at the top.”

“You can’t wear that,” he stammered. “That’s showing more than the underboob.”

“I’ll just tie it, it’s okay.”

“No, wear my shirt. We can switch,” he said. “People are used to seeing my chest, but my shirts do have buttons, would you believe it?”

I let out a joyless laugh, more like a breathy grunt, and put my clothes back on. Once we were both dressed, and we’d pulled all the hay out of our tousled hair, Pablo opened the door to the tack room. The warm sun had never felt so cold, and the blue sky never seemed so dull.

For a second I wished I was laying under Pablo again, high on endorphins and drunk with lust, relishing in my hormone-fuelled innocence. I wanted to be brainless again, blinded by carnal desire.

He looked into my eyes, and all I could see was a painful reminder of all the lies he’d told me, and all the things he’d put me through. In comparison, the feeling of his teeth sinking into the skin of my shoulder had felt like a warm kiss, and his nails digging into my flesh where he grabbed me by the hips, felt like a soft caress.

The worst part of it all was that it had felt so good. I could scold myself all I wanted, tell myself I was weak and an idiot for ever suggesting he could touch me. I knew that tonight, and for many nights to come, I’d lay in bed and bite my pillow as I craved the feeling again.

“Are you going to be alright?” Pablo asked.

“For God’s sake, stop asking me that every single minute,” I groaned. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

“You look upset,” he muttered. “And I know why you are. I’d rather think it’s because I was the most disappointing fuck you’ve ever had, but we both know that’s not the reason.”

“Are you boasting?” I scoffed.

“No. I just want you to know, you don’t need to have sex with me to make me happy. You make me happy in so many other ways.”

“I didn’t do it to make you happy,” I muttered.

“Gordita, you didn’t want this.”

“Why wouldn’t I want this?” I retorted. “I asked you to fuck me, you fucked me, I got what I wanted.”

He shook his head, almost imperceptibly, and I rolled my eyes.

“I’m going to my bedroom,” I mumbled. “See you later.”

I wanted to run back to the house, up the stairs and down the corridor. But, weighed down by the weight of my own guilt, doubt and self-hatred, I could only manage a slow walk, feet dragging under me like they were pulling a ball and chain.

I was slow, so slow, and yet still breathless. My chest shook with repressed sobs, my eyes fled from the accusatory gazes of whoever would walk by, see me wearing Pablo’s shirt, notice my messy hair, and think “this girl slept with her kidnapper– how stupid is she?“.

My head was so heavy, I could barely lift it to greet my bodyguard, who stood post in front of my bedroom door.

“Hola Baby Dog,” he cheered.

“Hey Oso,” I answered. “I think it’s best if we drop the nicknames.”

“Nah,” he croaked. “I explain to Pablo for the car head window thing. He laughs a lot, now he don’t care. Nicknames are good.”

“Oh,” I smiled. “Thanks, Oso.”

“I like Big Puppy. Say Big Puppy,” he insisted.

“Alright, Big Puppy.”

My eyelids prickled with sorrow, and my shoulders twitched with a longing for comfort. But I swallowed my tears, and fought back the urge to throw myself into Oso’s strong arms.

“Baby Dog, what happened?” he asked softly.

“Dad, I’ve made a mistake,” I sighed.

“Dad?”

Do you know what’s the quickest way to forget what’s making you sad? Say something so embarrassing that it instantly becomes the only thing you can think of. Drain your brain from all its blood and get it to rush to your cheeks. Your teary eyes will widen with shock and shame, and your cries will stay choked up with your words, burrowed deep in your chest.

“I– I didn’t call you Dad,” I stammered. “I wouldn’t– you’re not– I didn’t say that.”

“You said Dad,” he chuckled. “You said Dad, I made mistake. What mistake, mija?"

I knew Oso was trying to make things better, but it only made me feel worse. Ana’s parents called her mija. They called me mija too, sometimes. It meant “my daughter”.

But Oso wasn’t my Dad, and the Perez’s weren’t my parents. I wasn’t anyone’s daughter. Not anymore. If I was, I wouldn’t have thrown myself in the arms of the first man who’d given me meaningless compliments. If I had loving parents, even just one of them, I wouldn’t be so desperate for attention and affection. Had I lived any other life, and not the tragic existence of Sarah Kennedy, I wouldn’t be standing here, feeling so dirty, broken and lonely.

“Baby Dog, what mistake?” he repeated.

Before I could make up an answer, a small voice chirped across the corridor. I didn’t need to turn around. The sound of it alone was a breath of pure oxygen, and it made me gasp like I’d finally surfaced after days underwater. It was the ray of sunshine on my darkest day, the little rope ladder that would pull me out of the hole I’d dug for myself.

“Seño!” shouted Mafer.

I finally broke down in tears, yet the widest smile drew across my face. My heart started racing, beating along with the sound of her steps as she ran on the wooden floors. I opened my arms and she threw herself into them. I picked her up and clutched her against my chest, like a little girl who’d lost and found her favorite doll.

“I missed you so much,” I whimpered, burying my face in the crook of her neck.

“Baby Dog, why you don’t carry me like this,” Oso laughed.

“Because you’re huge and she’d break her back,” snickered Mafer over my shoulder.

I slowly let Mafer down and freed her from my desperate hug. I wiped away a tear with the back of my hand, and she reached up to push back the strand of hair it had stuck to my cheek.

“Emilia, are you okay?” she murmured.

“I’m fine, just tired,” I answered.

“She is sad because she call me Dad,” chortled Oso.

“Oso, no creo que sea un buen momento para bromas,” she whispered.

Oso, I don’t think this is the right time for jokes.

“No me gusta verla así. Cuidamela, Mafer.”

I don’t like seeing her like this. Take care of her for me, Mafer.

“Emilia, let’s go in your room, okay?” she said as she turned to me.

With a sniffle and a nod, I followed her. I fell onto the bed like a heavy sack of potatoes as she closed the door behind her. I already felt like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. Being alone with Mafer was the peace I needed to start processing the whirlwind of emotions I’d been through ever since I’d become Emilia.

“So, what happened?” she asked.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” I sighed. “I just feel so lost. You’d think I’d be happy. When I was trapped in here all I wanted was to get out, and now it’s where I feel the safest.”

“I can understand, Seño. These people can be a lot.”

“It’s not just that,” I mumbled. “I have everything Sarah Kennedy would have wanted, and I’m still not happy. When I was stuck in my shitty flat I would have killed someone to live in a place like this. I’d tell myself that money would solve all of my problems, but all of this luxury just makes me feel sick to my stomach. I’d dream of being the center of attention, and now I just wish I could be invisible again.”

“What would make you happy?” she whispered, and gently rubbed the palm of my hand with the tip of her thumb.

“Honestly? Just to sit on that flamingo float in the pool, with a nice cocktail, no crowds, just me, you, Oso, and maybe Pablo if he’s not being too annoying. But I can’t even do that. I can’t get my bandage wet,” I muttered, and pointed at my wounded arm.

“When was the last time you changed it?” asked Mafer.

“Holy shit. Ages ago,” I scoffed. “Like, a few days. It was...”

I stopped speaking and took a moment to think. I ran my mind through the last few days’ events, trying to climb back up the timeline and remember how many times I’d slept.

“...Yesterday morning,” I murmured.

“Yesterday morning was ages ago?” Mafer arched an eyebrow.

“Well, a lot of things happened,” I mumbled. “I’ll need hours to explain all of it. And a few hours to explain what happened the week before that.”

“Emilia, I’ve only been gone for two days,” she chuckled nervously.

“Right. Two days,” I breathed. “Where were you, by the way?”

“I went to my family’s village, and a nearby town called San José,” she answered with a smile. “My cousin got married there, in a pretty church by the lake.”

“I went to San José with Oso,” I grinned. “It’s where I bought all my clothes. I don’t have to wear other people’s underwear anymore.”

“So you’ve had at least one improvement over the weekend,” she giggled.

“Yeah,” I chortled. “The rest was pretty catastrophic.”

“You didn’t meet anyone nice?”

“Aside from Oso, not really. Quite the contrary. I have a new arch nemesis– his name is Juan Sandoval. He hates me because I accidentally reminded everyone that he was circumcised by a bush, and also because I don’t speak Hungarian.”

“Why would he hate you for that?” she frowned.

“He thinks I’m lying, which technically, I am. Remember that whole thing about Emilia Kovacs? He figured out it wasn’t true, because he actually does speak Hungarian, and I don’t know a single thing about Hungary. Gustavo told me he asked for a background check– which is bad, but I’ve made up a whole plan. I’m going to make him think I’m an undercover spy.”

“How is that going to work?” Mafer answered, shaking her head in confusion.

“Well, he won’t find out that I’ve been kidnapped. Pablo and his team could tell him they’re looking into it, and buy me some time.”

“And then what? They wouldn’t keep a spy around forever, Emilia.”

“I’m not sure, but we’ll figure something out,” I shrugged. “We’ll make up some story, either that I fell in love with him and betrayed the CIA. Or that they’re using me to send them false intel, or something. Maybe a mix of both. If Juan’s stupid enough to believe I’m a spy, he’ll probably believe that.”

“And how exactly do you plan on making him believe you’re a spy?” she mumbled.

“Just random things– like acting weird, but not too weird. Using gadgets. Stuff like that.”

“Gadgets? What, like you’re one of the Totally Spies?” she scoffed.

“Yeah, exactly! I have a compowder. Oso suggested a shoe-phone but I felt it was a little over the top.”

“If you really have to choose, stick to the compowder,” she muttered. “Shoe-phone sounds ridiculous.”

“I know, right? That’s what I told Oso when he suggested it.”

Mafer frowned, and stopped to think for a bit. She was probably doubting me, my whole plan, and maybe my sanity in general. But my genius, undercover-spy plan was the only thing I was certain about these days, and I wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from me. Not even Mafer.

“So, what about the other people?”

“Well, Hernan is a creep, Andrea is a gossip, Manée is a bitch, even that maid who serves us breakfast, she’s rude and a hoe, and then everyone else wants to kill me, apparently. And Pablo is the worst.”

“What? Why–”

“Well, he kept getting really mad at me, most often for absolutely no reason. First, he made me eat nothing but steak, and when I said I didn’t want steak anymore, he got me some fucking oysters. Then he got super angry and almost broke my wrist because he thought I betrayed him, or whatever, but he was just being super dramatic because Gustavo just wanted to talk. Then he thought I was fucking my bodyguard, but same thing– we were just talking. So he got pissed drunk, punched Hernan Sandoval square in the jaw, spent the night restrained with fluffy handcuffs, and then he confessed to me he wanted to kill me, but today we went horseriding and had sex on a haystack in the stables.”

Mafer answered with nothing but tight lips and a slow blink.

“Insane, isn’t it?” I giggled.

“When you say it like that, you sound insane.”

“That’s kind of rude, Mafer,” I muttered.

“Emilia. In half a sentence you went from Pablo wanting to kill you to having sex with him on a haystack.”

“Yeah, well, I skipped a few details. There were a few hours between those two events.”

“Hours?!”

“It’s fine, Mafer, he doesn’t want to kill me. Not anymore.”

“Emilia, have you lost your mind?” Mafer cried.

“Why, because I had sex with Pablo?” I groaned. “See this is exactly–”

“Baby Dog, you had sex with Pablo?” gasped Oso as his head peeked through the door.

“Are you listening to my conversations?” I hissed.

“Yes, Baby Dog, it is my job.”

“Emilia–” groaned Mafer.

“Chill, guys. It’s not that big of a deal,” I mumbled.

“Did you use the condom?” Oso frowned.

“Uh, no,” I bit my lip. “It kind of just happened.”

“You are making babies with Pablo?” he shrieked.

“No I’m not. I have an IUD,” I sighed.

“You will explode the baby?” he screamed.

“Explode the– what the hell, Oso? I said IUD, not IED.”

“I only know IED,” he shrugged.

“Why would I explode a baby, Oso? Be serious,” I sighed.

“Why would you have sex with Pablo?” intervened Mafer. ”Especially without a condom.”

There it was, the thing I’d feared the most. Being judged for what I did, and worst of all, by someone I cared for. I could already hear all the whispers in my back. All the people telling me how dumb and messed up I was for having fallen for him.

“Don’t attack me,” I cried in panic, “It’s not like I even wanted it.”

My words echoed around the room and plunged it into a stunned silence. Both Mafer and Oso stood still, with their eyes wide open and their mouth agape, as if I’d just slapped them in the face.

“Did he rape you?” Mafer whispered.

What goes around, comes around, sometimes much faster than you think. At times it only takes long enough for your words to bounce off a wall before they come back and slap you in the face. Oso didn’t even wait for me to answer the question before he turned red in the face, slipped his fingers around his holster and spun around to face the door.

“Oso, wait,” I said.

I had just lied, and my lie could condemn many people to death. If Oso shot Pablo, someone would shoot him, and someone else might kill that other shooter, and then they’d come for me. I’d cause a bloodbath, only because I couldn’t deal with the consequences of my own actions.

Pablo didn’t force me. He didn’t even coerce me. He was many horrible things, but he wasn’t a rapist. If I kept on lying, and blamed him for something he never did, I was no better than him.

Emilia, I told myself, you are a terrible person.

I nodded slowly, answering the ruthless voice in my head, and slowly lifted up my open hands.

“It’s complicated,” I mumbled.

“Did he hurt you?” spat Oso.

“No. He didn’t do anything wrong,” I breathed. “I asked for it. I just... don’t know what I was thinking.”

“So you started it, but you didn’t want it?” Mafer frowned.

“I wanted it, then I thought about what people would say. And they’re right. I shouldn’t have done it. He’s my kidnapper. It’s fucked up.”

“What people, Emilia?” she answered. “Who said anything? Barely anyone here knows he’s your kidnapper.”

“People like you guys. You just said–”

“You told me Pablo wanted to kill you. I’m worried about you because you just said you had sex with a guy who wants to murder you.”

“He said he was supposed to kill me, and then didn’t, because he likes me,” I answered, biting my lip in shame.

“I am very confusion,” muttered Oso, his brow so furrowed his eyes started to cross.

“This is a conversation for people with emotions, not people who kill others for a living,” Mafer hissed at him.

“Women are strange,” he sighed. “Baby Dog, he did not hurt you?”

“No, he didn’t hurt me,” I answered.

“Okay, so I won’t hurt him. Now I need a cigarette,” he groaned. “Baby Dog, don’t make babies. Don’t explode babies. Next time, use the condom. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I shouldn’t have left,” mumbled Mafer once the bodyguard had shut the door. “I’m sorry, Emilia.”

“It’s not your fault, Mafer.”

“I wish I could have been there for you.”

“You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

She wrapped her arm around me, and laid her head on my shoulder.

“You deserve to be happy, Emilia,” she whispered.

“I just wish I knew how. I don’t have a lot of choices. It’s not like I can just walk out of this place and pretend nothing happened. Even if I went back home and lived to tell the tale, I don’t think I would be happy. I’d have my freedom, but I’d lose everything else. I’m not sure it’s worth it.”

“Then, stay,” she murmured. “Things will fall into place, little by little.”

“Maybe they will, maybe they won’t,” I muttered.

“If you have Pablo on your side, I’m sure they will.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know if Pablo’s my ally or my enemy. You’d think, logically, since he’s my kidnapper, then he’s my enemy. But now, I think he’s the one protecting me. Like, he cares about me. I even think he loves me, actually. But I’m not sure.”

“Why wouldn’t you be sure?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like anyone’s ever loved me. My parents did, when I was little, but it was so long ago, I don’t even remember it. And I mean, I’ve had friends, I’ve had boyfriends, but I think they just liked me. No one’s ever treated me like Pablo does.”

Mafer smiled warmly, but I wasn’t sure if she understood. Mafer was loved. She had to be. Who wouldn’t love her? She had a beautiful face and a wonderful soul.

“You must know what it feels like,” I murmured. “To be loved.”

“I think I do,” she whispered dreamily. “There’s one guy.”

“Who is he?” I chuckled. “Do I know him?”

“No, you wouldn’t know him,” she smiled. “He’s from my village. His name is José. And he’s really handsome.”

“How did you know he loved you?”

“Well, he thinks I’m amazing,” she giggled. “He believes in me more than I do. When I think I can’t do something, he lifts me up, and he guides me through. When I’m wrong, he’s always honest, and he tells me why. And when he compliments me, I know he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t just say I’m pretty, he tells me how smart I am. He listens when I talk, and laughs at my jokes, even when they’re bad. He does lots of little things, things he thinks don’t matter, but for me, they do. Like making me twirl when we hear our favorite song. Or picking flowers from the side of the road, and sticking them behind my ear.”

“He sounds perfect,” I answered.

“He’s not. No one is,” she giggled. “Some days, he drives me crazy. He has his flaws, but so do I.”

I grinned at her. She sounded so happy. José seemed amazing. And in a way, he sounded like Pablo. How he told me I was talented, I was genuine, I was funny. How he knew when and why I was upset, and always seemed to know which words to tell me. The innocent part of my brain wondered if this was what being loved felt like. The scarred part told me not to fall for it again.

But if scarred meant damaged, and damaged meant it didn’t work as well, then maybe I was better off ignoring that part of my brain. Fuck the doubts, fuck the warnings, fuck all the self-inflicted pain. If I was stuck here, and I was going to die anyway, I could enjoy things while I was alive. I could enjoy Pablo’s company, just like I enjoyed the food and the bottomless champagne.

Everything was fine. I only felt bad because I’d felt so good. Just because it once seemed wrong didn’t mean it could never be right. I deserved to feel pleasure after all the pain I’d been through.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and repeated the words over and over in my head, as if to convince myself.

Everything is okay.

Everything is Okay

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