Page 5 of The Tourist

Chloe

The bag is ripped off my head, and relieved to be free of the suffocating shroud, I take in several deep gulps of air before looking around my location. Beside me, Serena sits in a heap on the cold, hard floor, her face streaked with tear-stained makeup. I glance around, disoriented.

We’re in a small room, industrial in design, possibly inside an old factory. The peeling paintwork on the walls is stained, and the light is dim, casting eerie shadows that make everything look even more foreboding.

“What’s happening?” I ask, my voice trembling. I try to suppress the torrent of tears threatening to engulf me. The fear is suffocating, and I can barely hold myself together.

Serena doesn’t respond. She stares blankly as a man enters the room. He’s an older gentleman, dressed in an expensive looking suit, and the hostility in his eyes sends shivers down my spine. He exudes a sense of power and cruelty, the kind that promises no mercy.

“Bring the little whore here,” the man commands, his voice dripping with menace. Each word feels like a knife slicing through the air.

Serena turns her head to me as two men close in on us. “Whatever happens, Chloe, stay strong. Shut your eyes if you need to.”

“Serena,” I whisper, my confusion and fear blending into a single, paralyzing emotion. “What is happening?”

“It will be all right. I promise. Diego will come,” she says, a lone tear tumbling down her cheek. The sight of it sends a wave of terror through me. “I love you, Chloe. You’re my best friend. Always.”

“What’s happening?” I ask again, my voice breaking as another shiver of fear travels over my body. Serena has never talked to me like this before, like she’s about to die.

The two men grab Serena, one by her hair and the other by her arms. They drag her to her feet. She tries to fight them, but it’s useless. They’re so much stronger than her. She goes still and allows them to take her to the man in charge.

“Hello, Serena. Seeing you again is such a pleasure,” the man addresses her with a sneer.

“Mr. Armstrong,” she replies, lacing his name with venom.

I’m stunned that she knows him, but then realization dawns. This is about her brother and her family. The cartel world she lives in has imploded, dragging me into its dark abyss.

“You know what happens now. I win against your brother,” he says, smiling cruelly. Serena holds her head high and doesn’t flinch. I’ve never witnessed bravery like hers before. I guess it’s a testament to the harsh world she’s been raised in.

“Do whatever you want with me. I won’t break. That is the Rodriguez way, and it’s something you will never understand as an inferior Armstrong,” she spits back at him.

The man laughs and shakes his head. “Do stop with the bravado, little girl. We both know I’m going to destroy you and your family.”

“Do your worst,” Serena replies, her chin tilted upward in defiance.

“Don’t worry. I will,” the man called Armstrong sneers, motioning for the men around him to surround Serena. “Strip her.”

The men use a knife to slice off Serena’s clothes.

“I love a virgin. Such tight little cunts,” Armstrong says with a lascivious smile.

My stomach lurches, the previously consumed alcohol threatening to make a reappearance.

“Stop. Please,” I whimper, but my voice is too weak, too quiet, to be heard.

Once the men have stripped Serena naked, Armstrong turns her, so she’s facing away from him, and presses her body against the wall in front of them. Next, I see him fumbling with his pants. I know what’s coming. He’s going to rape her. Tears stream down my cheeks as I watch on, helpless. Serena remains stalwart, even as the man pushes into her and violates her from behind. She doesn’t scream or make a noise, but I cry out for her, my screams filling the dingy room and reverberating off the walls.

“Stop. Don’t,” I plead, but my words fall on deaf ears.

“Get her out of here,” Armstrong shouts over his shoulder, gesturing toward me.

I’m hauled off the floor and dragged across the room. Looking back, Serena’s head is turned to face me, but there’s nothing in her eyes. They are dead as the man continues to rut into her.

“Live,” she mouths as I’m pulled from the room, and I wonder if I’ll ever see her again. My best friend. The other half of me.

Survival instincts kick in, and I start to struggle and fight against the men holding me. A sharp whack across my face in response to my efforts brings the metallic taste of blood to my mouth.

“Behave, or you’ll regret it,” one of the men spits into my ear.

---