Page 70 of A Me and You Thing
No, they kept me. Like I was a stray, injured dog, up for grabs by whoever finds her.
It was so easy for them. I was like a docile child, obedient to whatever they told me to do.
I’m not that person anymore. Now I will fight.
I must escape. Now. Bam. Decision made. No wavering. I must leave while they’re gone for the day in Managua. I can’t stay here one second longer. I sit up and dry my tears. I have work to do.
But this time my efforts will besolamentefor me. No,onlyfor me. I don’t want Spanish words sneaking into my thoughts and vocabulary any longer. Not after what I’ve been through.
I look through my secret pouch and find that everything is there except my cash. My passport, my ID, and all of my traveler’s checks. They don’t expire. They’re still good.
I have money, enough to do what I need to do. Identification and signature verification are required to use the traveler’s checks.TíaandTíocouldn’t cash them. One glance at my passport brought my memories back. If they’d made me show my ID and sign my name, they would’ve risked me remembering who I really am. They must’ve known it would happen at some point.
They’ve been so wary about people seeing me. Other than theleche... milk runs, they’ve kept me fairly well hidden from the outside world on their remote property. They didn’t want to lose their golden goose.
I gather up my pouch, placing my passport, ID, and traveler’s checks back inside. My head pounds as I lift up my shirt and snap it in place on my torso. Instinctively, my hand goes to my neck. My locket, the one Sawyer gave me before I left. Where is it?
It’s possible it was torn from my neck during the accident. Still, I search every drawer in the house, throwing things out onto the floor, making a mess in the process. I don’t care. Let them clean up their own home.
I throw open the door toTía’scloset and I begin to ruffle through her few belongings. I searchTío’scloset next, determined not to let them take one more thing from me.
I find my locket hanging from a hanger in the back of his closet. I clasp it to my neck, knowing I’m taking back my life one step at a time.
There are many more steps to take.
IfTíaandTíolooked inside my locket, they knew I had children. I don’t understand how they could be so callous. Anger burns inside me at the notion.
I glance at the clock.TíaandTíoshould be home in about twohoras... hours. I peek out a southern facing window. Field workers dot the distant coffee fields that spread out across the mountain in perfect rows.TíaandTíohave been given this home in exchange for overseeing the workers and cooking their meals. They own nothing. They’ve grown old and this job is too much for them. That’s why they needed me. I was their retirement plan.
I was never allowed to associate with the field workers, but I’ve cooked their meals, three times a day, for the last—how long has it been? I have no idea. How many of those workers would be willing to help them keep me? I won’t stick around to find out.
How long have I been here? What month is it? More to the point, what day is it? I know I’ve been here for a while, perhaps much longer than I realize. But I’m not sure, and the thought terrifies me. The more I think about it, the more my head throbs.
Other thoughts need to be forefront in my mind right now. Like escape.
How do I escape? My blond hair stands out in this country. If asked, watchful eyes might tellTíaandTíothey’ve seen me.
I put my hair up and place the scarf on my head. It’s the first time I’m thankful for it, the first time I’m thankfulTíaandTíoprotected me from the outside world.
Of course, it was entirely selfish on their part, but it was protection all the same. I admit, I’m saddened by the realization of what they’ve done. I thought they loved me, cared for me. They were demanding at times, but not necessarily cruel. Strict and a bit harsh, yes. Yet they took care of me too.
It’s no use. I can’t make excuses for them. What they have done is unforgiveable. Just because they tended to me, fed and housed me, does not give them a free pass to keep me.
How do I get myself out of here? There’s no prince that’s about to arrive and steal me away. I have to save myself.
Then it hits me. It’s time to milk the cows, time to carry theleche, the milk jugs to the end of the road. Time for Diego to wait until I’ve loaded the containers onto his truck.
I know what to do. I’ll sneak onto the truck and go as far as it will take me. I’m not sure where that will be, but I’ll figure it out from there. It’s the best thing my aching head can come up with right now. At least I’ll be far away from my just-realized prison. It’s my only chance. I don’t know who is friend or foe. I have to be very, verycuidadosa... careful.
I run to my room to pack my belongings and realize I don’t have any belongings. There’s nothing here for me.
As I open the door to leave, I pause. I look around the shabby home that I’ve actually been thankful for the entire time I’ve lived there. I felt glad to have a roof over my head, to have food, to feel safe. Protective instincts had taken over. All I cared about was survival.
Survival is still key, but there’s so much more at stake. I want my life back. I want my family back.
I realize the house is so much smaller and dilapidated than I thought it to be. My eyes saw what they wanted to see, I guess. It wasn’t me who lived and worked here. It was a ghost of myself. Now I’ve been awakened from a distant dream.
Or nightmare.
