The Beasts of Juarez by R.B. Schow (story books to read .txt) 📗

From a few feet away, she drew up whatever blood and saliva mixture she had in her mouth and she spit it at him. The blood loogie landed wet and slimy on his otherwise nice clothes. He flicked the nasty blob off of his shirt and then he punched her right in the face. She saw his fist coming milliseconds before it smashed her in the mouth. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do but take the shot, fall down, and black out.

Chapter Eleven

SYDNEY FOX

The man known to her only as Jose carried her nearly unconscious body back into Santiago’s house, laid her down in the shower, and then turned on the water. He didn’t regulate the temperature to make it comfortable for her, he just turned the water on hot. Did he know she had regained consciousness? Is that why he did this? When her skin started to burn, when she realized with full cognition what was happening, she scrambled back into the corner out of the way of the scalding water. Then, painfully, she pulled herself up and turned everything off.

“Mr. Cardenas wants you clean,” Jose said in clunky English.

She covered her privates with her arms and said, “I’ll clean myself if you promise to go out.”

“I can’t do that.”

“At least turn around,” she said.

“I will look at Instagram,” he grumbled, “or check my email.”

She stood and turned the water back on, running it as hot as she could without burning herself. Her hope was that by steaming the glass she would get some measure of privacy. With her back facing him and the pain in her ribs and along her spine returning too quickly she started to cry. The clear water hit her battered body, but red-tinged water ran into the drain. As badly as she had been abused, the ache in her heart rivaled all the other pain she suffered, which was why she wanted nothing more than to give herself over to the sorrow.

Just when she found a small, private place in her head to let go, she heard the manufactured sound of a camera shutter opening and closing. Did Jose just take her picture? She turned and saw his cell phone camera pointed at her. Glaring at him, instantly outraged, she covered herself with her hands and hissed, “You soulless prick.”

He looked at the photo and then he turned the screen around to face her. She wiped away the steam that had gathered on the glass and looked at a picture of her legs, her butt, and her back.

“Even though I am not a fan of women,” he said, “I am a fan of women.”

With no choice but to endure yet another violation, Sydney stepped back into the hot water and seethed. Turning away, unwilling to let him see that he’d gotten to her, she let her tangled emotions run free.

The tightness in her lower lip, the white-hot pain in her gums and teeth, told her she was cut from where she’d been punched. The surrounding tissue was now swelling.

She splashed a little water on her face then watched as small trails of red ran between her breasts and down the front of her body. Licking her tongue over her lips, she located the source of the bleeding. Santiago had split her lip when he punched her. But the pain wasn’t isolated to just her face, her torso, and her legs. The back of her head hurt, too.

Gingerly, she ran a hand over a rather large lump. After Santiago knocked her out, had she fallen on the pool decking? She crying started again. This time she couldn’t help it and she couldn’t stop it.

When the shower was sufficiently steamed, when she couldn’t see Jose in detail anymore, she told herself that he couldn’t see the details of her either. That’s when she soaped down, shampooed her butchered head of hair, and let herself think of the girls. The agony spread inside of her like fast-acting cancer. She fell into fits of sobbing that were even worse than before. Whatever she was dealing with here at Santiago’s house was bad, but she imagined her girls were dealing with far worse elsewhere.

She slumped down in the corner of the shower in a heap, pulled her knees to her chest, and circled her arms around her shins. What had Camden done so badly that he could let this happen to his family? It wasn’t his fault, though. She knew that. He was just a politician in today’s world trying to do what he thought was right for the safety and security of America. There was no way he could have known his efforts would produce this or he would have resigned in an instant.

The shower door opened and Jose stood there. She glanced up enough to see his boots and the front of his pants.

“You’re wasting hot water,” he said.

“You’re letting out my steam,” she retorted, wiping her eyes.

He stepped inside the shower, startling her. Instead of assaulting her again, he reached out and shut off the water. Sydney remained where she was until he threw a towel at her and said, “You think it’s bad now but it’s going to get worse. You are lucky he let you shower.”

She took the towel, started to dry herself off, then stood only when Jose shut the glass door and went back to sitting on the toilet seat.

When she was ready, he handed her some clothes she hadn’t even known had arrived, complete with underwear, a bra, socks, and shoes.

“These are all my size,” she said in disbelief.

“Mr. Cardenas is good with details and he is a proficient planner.”

“He bought these for me?” she asked.

“Last week,” Jose replied.

An icy chill raced