Page 45 of Trapped

“We are playing house right now. You know nothing about me, Silas. Nothing! Sure, you gave me a few decent orgasms, but that doesn’t qualify as love.”

A few decent orgasms?

This little…

All I can see is red as I stalk toward her. She stands with her shoulders pointed toward me as she stares me down. Her ice cold stare fights against the heat radiating off of me. Together, we are a natural disaster waiting to happen. I reach for her throat and bring her ear to me.

“I think we both know those orgasms were more than decent. And as far as love goes, I don’t give a fuck if you love me or not. You are stillmy wife!And that makes youmine.”

“What if I don’t want to be yours?” she challenges.

“There is no other option, Thalia. You can be with me, or you can enjoy the backseat of a hearse.”

Thalia loves to pick a fight and win with the last dig. She won’t win the last word game with me. I’m on her same level of psycho. You could say a match made in heaven, or better yet, in hell.

I don’t see Silas after Christmas. He goes to work early and doesn’t come back until late in the night. I listen for him to come in every night so I can turn my back to face the wall. If he is going to avoid me all day, then I will pretend he doesn’t exist to me. That’s what I want, right? No intimacy.

What are you really afraid of? That you might accidentally fall in love with me?

Yes. I’ve always been fearless. When it comes to monsters, ghosts, even death, I am not afraid. But love? Death would be better than falling in love. Love is said to be all these things—patient, kind, and whatever the fuck else garbage was scripted in wedding vows—but to me, it is a trap. It is an all-or-nothing risk. I could hand my heart over to Silas, but he isn’t required to reciprocate the feelings. That scares the shit out of me.

Ale snaps her fingers in front of me, and I shake my head.

“Bitch, did you hear a word I said?” I push my boot into the left stirrup and launch my other leg up until I’m straddling the black stallion below me. Ale had been persistent about teaching meto ride a horse. Not just any horse. My horse. Silas had several horses on the ranch, but Ale said he had got this one for me—a fact that made not feeling anything for this man more difficult.

These rides, with Onyx and Ale, have been a grounding place for me. Riding is a deep form of mediation that helps me get out of my head. Otherwise, my head that is being manipulated by my untrustworthy heart.

“What’s going on in your crazy mind today?” Ale asks. I stay silent, afraid to ask her a question I may not want the answer to. Onyx slowly trots below me as we take in the surrounding meadows.

“Is Silas fucking other bitches?” Ale stops her horse and lets out a big laugh.

It’s a serious question. This is the level oftoxicaI have reached. I had told him not to touch me, so he doesn’t. Now, I’m desperate for him to touch me, and when he doesn’t, I assume he’s with another woman. The way my brain takes off with unrealistic scenarios at night drives me mad.

“Nah, bruja. I don’t think he’s fucking other bitches. Not with you here,” she says.

I steer Onyx to the side, and Ale follows. We ride in silence, both taking in the scenery around us. We stop at a river front and Ale comes beside me.

“You know, I always admired you for your intelligence, but right now, I think you are dumb as hell if you don’t notice the way Silas feels about you.”

“How do you know he feels anything for me?” I ask.

“Because when you’re not looking, I see the way he looks at you.”

“How does he look at me?

“Like nothing else in the world matters but you.” She turns her horse around and heads back toward the house. I stay there and take in the heaviness pulling at me. Pulling me back towardthe house, toward Silas. I shift my weight and gently pull on the reins. I nudge Onyx, and he moves at a steady pace. Onyx follows the tug of my heart like it’s his personal compass. Not stopping until we reach the matte black stables.

After a lonely dinner with just Vero and me, I take a long bath and smoke a blunt, courtesy of Efren. It’s his Christmas gift to me. I let my mind roam with thoughts as I cleanse myself, then get out. I pretend that I don’t wait up for Silas, but I do.

I lie there, unsettled, staring at the wall, until I feel the weight of him fall onto the bed next to me. The warmth of his body fills the space. I turn around just so I can watch his back as he breathes. Something happened the day he made love to me. It was like the very first time we made love. Like our souls were aligned. The fear of loving him rose up from the secrets I was keeping. Secrets that feel like a pillow pressed against my face. Smothering me as I desperately fight to hold on to them. Afraid of how he would react if he knew I was keeping this from him.

Every time I want to free myself of the misery and tell Silas the truth, I am pulled back. I know he would never hurt her, but I worry we will hurt each other. The man had threatened to kill me if I ever left him, and he was clearly serious. Also, there is the minor detail that I tried to shoot him. Several times, to be exact. I am beginning to think Olivia was right. I can’t offer my child a promising life. She has two psychopaths as parents, for fuck’s sake.

I toss and turn all night. Every fucking mistake consumes me with anxious dreams. Dreams where I’m rejected. By Lucia. By Silas. The more desperate I become to find peaceful sleep, the more restless my dreams become. I’m unable to reach her. I’m running and running, and I can see her, but she is never really there. Ivan laughs at me and grabs her. I wake at my own loud scream, and Silas jerks next to me. He jumps up, grabbing his gun, and looks around the dark room.

“What’s wrong?!” His voice is groggy, and he’s still half asleep. I stare at him and feel my body. It’s not real. Ivan is dead, and Lucia is safe.

“It was just a nightmare,” I whisper in an attempt to reassure both of us. He crawls back into the bed and pulls me into him. His arm wraps around me, the gun tight in his hand.

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