Page 3 of The Devil's Pawn

My heart beats like a hammering drum.

“I’ll ruin your fucking name so badly, no one will wanna marry you,” he snarls.

“Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing,” I shoot back, grinding my teeth until they rattle as I stare into his dirt-colored eyes.

His upper lip twitches before he thrusts a fist into the air.

I draw in a quick, shallow gasp, my eyes popping wide as his knuckles near my jaw and press into me.

“I can’t wait,” he threatens with that soulless expression beating into mine.

I know what he means. He can’t wait to hurt me.

He relieves some of the pressure on my arm from his continued grip, and I take that second to pull away. I rush upstairs without looking back, my chest heaving. Shutting the door behind me, I lean against it, my eyelids drifting to a close as the tears fall, slow at first, then rushing out like a colossal storm. I sob soundlessly into my palms, my entire body breaking and trembling in the wake of my tortured pain.

Crying is all I have. I’ll always suffer in silence.

Fingering the ring he once gave me, I pull it off, leaving it beside my feet. There was no real engagement. Our parents met in our dining room, with us present, and Carlito handed me a ring like a collar for a shackled animal.

After a few moments, I hear my mother and Carlito talking. Prying the door open a little, I listen in, wanting to know if they’ll talk about me. At first they don’t, but then I hear the conversation switch to the wedding.

“So, I was thinking we can move the date up a little. Maybe by three months?” Mom’s voice climbs up, going all sugary. “I spoke to your mother and made all the arrangements, and she’s fine with it. I know how much you’re looking forward to marrying my daughter.”

The blood drains from my face, and my eyes go round, a cold shudder running up my arms.

No. She can’t do this to me.

“That’s fine by me. The sooner, the better,” Carlito agrees fiercely. “I need a good woman in my life.”

“I know you do, and my daughter is a perfect match for you.” I hear the smile in my mother’s voice.

The cell phone in my hand vibrates and I find Chiara’s name on the screen. I quickly answer, telling her everything that’s happening, and that I can’t live this life anymore and I’d rather die.

She thinks there’s something we can do, but we both know that’s a lie. It’s over.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” Mom continues. “My girl isn’t getting any younger, you know. She has to start having children, which I’m sure you want too.”

“I definitely do. A lot of them,” he chuckles.

I hurl; the whimpers coming out of me sound like they belong to my ghost.

Chiara remains quiet, and I don’t blame her. What can she say that she hasn’t already?

“We should give my daughter the good news,” Mom adds. “Where in the world is she, for God’s sake? Raquel?!” Her shouting whips across my skin. “Come down already.”

Oh, no. I can’t face them. I have to get out of here. I need to find a way out of this house before she finds me.

“I have to go,” I tell Chiara before hanging up. “I think she’s coming to my room.”

Rising from the floor, I slip into a pair of sneakers from the closet, still in my black cocktail dress and coat, then grab the handbag I dropped beside the door.

My mom will kill me for this, and Carlito will be more than enraged that his soon-to-be wife is running around in the middle of the night in a slinky dress, but I don’t care about the consequences. I just know I can’t be here. I’ll break down in front of both of them once they mention the wedding, and that will make Carlito mad. The last thing I want is for him to get angrier at me.

Deciding to take the back way out of the house in hopes of leaving before my mom gets up here, I tiptoe down the stairs, knowing she won’t see me from where they are. All I have to do is get downstairs and dart right around to the back door, then run outside. I can call an Uber once I’m far enough away.

A chair scrapes across the floor just as I hit the last step. My heart pounds in my ears as I dash the last few steps toward the door and turn the knob.

“Raquel?” Mom calls. “Is that you?”

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