Page 17 of The Doctor's Twins

I woke up to an all too familiar smell. When you’re a med student, it’s the one smell that no one could ever erase from the passages of your mind.

I sat up and looked around, wondering where the foul smell was coming from. I looked up at the top of the staircase landing. I wasn’t sure why I did that. It wasn’t as if Mateo would have left the door open for me. But, hope springs eternal, as the bard once remarked.

I got up very slowly. My body was bruised and stiff. I had no way of knowing how long I lay there, unconscious and shivering on the cold concrete floor. My watch had a crack in it and it looked like it had stopped when I hit the deck. I was dressed in my PJs and robe, so I didn't have my phone with me either. Shit!

How the hell was I going to get myself out of this mess? Mateo could leave me there to rot and no one would ever know. I must have been in the basement. I’d asked about that locked door when I first arrived at my new home. Mateo told me he’d locked the room as it had mold issues and wasn’t safe. I kicked myself now for not having pushed the issue, but what reasons did a new bride have to mistrust her husband?

I fumbled around in the dimly lit space until I found a source of light in the form of a torch. I had to shake it a few times before the batteries connected properly to the copper strip inside the casing of the torch. My lifeline sprang to life so I could use it to try and figure out how I could escape.

The basement was sparsely furnished. A few chairs, an old table, a few boxes, and three large chest freezers.

I opened one of the boxes and found a photo album inside. I pulled up a chair and sat down at the table before opening up and paging through its pages. I recognized Mateo’s face right away, even though he had been quite a few years younger when the photos were taken.

Next to him stood a beautiful woman. She looked at him in the same adoring way I had done when he and I tied the knot. I gathered that she must have been the first Mrs. Garcia by virtue of the youthfulness of the bride and groom.

The album was filled with happy photos. I kept looking until I came to blank pages. The album wasn’t completely full.

I rummaged through another box and found a second photo album. It was pretty much a repeat of the first one. Happy, happy, then empty.

Who were these women? Where were they now? What had Mateo done to them? I had to know. The basement was my best chance at finding some answers. Did either of the women keep a diary?

The bump on the black of my head was throbbing. I prayed that I could break off a piece of ice from inside one of the freezers and use it to ease the swelling, so I made my way to one of them.

It was when I opened the freezer closest to me that I found the source of the smell I’d detected earlier—it was not the smell of dead rats and other critters as I had hoped. Inside the freezer were the remains of a human being.

I screamed and jumped back. I had seen and handled plenty of cadavers in my four years as a student. That wasn’t what scared me. It was the fact that in this case, I knew exactly who the remains belonged to. Mateo’s wives!

Oh, God! Help me. I can’t do this…

I slammed the freezer door shut and took in a deep breath to try and control the wave of nausea that had me in its vile grip. I didn't have to open the second one to know exactly what was inside. I knew all too well that if I stayed down there in that basement, I would soon join the occupants of the freezers.

Mateo was not only a psychopathic abuser. He was also a cold-blooded murderer.

I had to escape my fate, and I had to do it before my husband awoke from his drunken slumber. I started rummaging frantically through every box and shelf I could reach until I found a screwdriver. Next, I climbed the stairs and unscrewed the door from its hinges. It took longer than I anticipated, but I kept going. My fingers bled and my nails broke but I didn’t stop until the door shifted.

The house was silent except for the sound of Mateo’s snoring coming from his study. I tiptoed as quietly as possible up the staircase toward the bedroom. I had to grab my purse and change into something more appropriate. I moved lightning-fast through the room, collecting what I’d need for my emergency exit from hell.

I listened carefully before I left the room. Mateo was still snoring. I tiptoed down the stairs and out to the garage through the interleading door from the kitchen. I was afraid that if I used the remote to open the garage door, Mateo would hear me. So, I unhooked the mechanism and opened the door manually. Slowly…

Next, I wedged a shovel under it to prop it up and prayed it would hold while I disengaged the handbrake and rolled my car out of the garage without starting the engine.

Once I had rolled a fair distance from the garage, I started the engine. I was almost free. All that was left was crossing the border into the US.

Please, God. Help me!

6

PEYTON

Iwas stressed to near breaking point when I saw the long line of cars at the border post. It was close to 5 am and the migrant workers were on their way through to start their day.

I’d been driving non-stop to get from Mexico City to the US border, stopping only to buy water and a snack and trade in my Mercedes for a clapped-out pile of junk. I had no idea if I’d be able to slip through into The US without Mateo’s buddies waiting to drag me back to the man who would certainly kill me. I reckoned that if they were looking for me, they would have my car’s registration details and my general description.

I watched as I crept ever closer to the front of the queue. I was glad that I’d kept my old passport, showing my maiden name. Hopefully, the guards would be too busy to check my credentials on their system. Besides, Mateo wouldn’t imagine that I’d have the balls to leave the country.

It was my turn. I took in a deep breath and steeled my nerves as I drove up to the window. I smiled brightly and made sure my cleavage was showing—a little distraction was a girl’s best friend. I handed the guard my passport.

He looked me up and down while I kept my smile as bright as possible. I couldn’t blame him for staring more at my face than my cleavage. I wore so much makeup to cover up the new bruises, I probably looked like a porcelain doll. He walked to the back of the car and looked around for a moment. My heart was beating wildly in my throat.

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