Page 7 of Where Broken Wings Fly

With no choice but to accept the torture, his twisted games last hours. My mind returns to its safe place. Empty nothingness. I let that deep pool of water suck me into its depths.

When he’s too exhausted to continue, Mr Sanchez grows tired of toying with me and settles for another brutal violation. This time, when he tells me to scream, I oblige.

Not for my own sake.

For hers.

Once his men arrive to smuggle the prostitute’s corpse to a watery grave, Mr Sanchez drinks himself into a stupor and staggers back to his private quarters to pass out.

For a long time, I lie motionless on the bed, trickles of blood staining my inner thighs. The tears silently fall as I ease my stiff joints from the unfastened restraints and pull on my robe.

It takes a long time to put myself back together into a fragile persona after washing the blood from my skin. I have to pretend, even to myself. Arianna needs me. I can’t be weak.

Limping down the dark, marble-lined hallway on trembling legs, I hug my midsection. I shouldn’t be up or even attempting to walk in my state.

The entire world is spinning and threatening to disappear on me. But I have to see her. I have to know that she’s safe from the monster beneath the bed.

Once inside her generous suite that’s lit by glow-in-the-dark stars and the ever-present nightlight on her bedside table, I pad over to my daughter’s sleeping form beneath the covers.

Neither of us cares for the opulence around us that barely conceals the reality of life inside this mansion. Mr Sanchez has hit her enough times when he grew bored of hearing my cries.

I’ve always thrown myself between them, sacrificing myself first, but I’m ashamed to admit that he’s still managed to get to Arianna on occasion. She’s taken those blows too.

“Mummy?” Sitting upright in bed, Arianna’s ringlets stick up in all directions. “Why are you standing there?”

Crawling between the pale-pink, flower-spotted sheets, I snuggle against her tiny body. She’s very small for a six-year-old, but so beautiful it makes my heart ache.

All angelic blonde hair and doe-like blue eyes, Arianna looks just like her father. She inherited his stunning good looks, but thankfully, not the impenetrable darkness within him.

“Are you crying?” she asks sleepily.

“I’m fine, my sweet girl. Go back to sleep. I’ve got you.”

Her face nuzzles into my neck, breathing in my scent for comfort.

“I’m s-scared. I had a bad dream again.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Ari.”

“It’s the dark,” she whines. “I don’t like it.”

“That’s why we put the stars up, remember?” I breathe in her sweet scent. “No matter where you are or what sky you’re looking up at, you’re never alone.”

“Really?” Arianna whispers.

“Of course, baby. Even if Mummy isn’t there.”

“No! No!” she shouts, thrashing in my arms. “I don’t want the stars. I want you. Please don’t leave me on my own.”

Hushing her cries, I stroke her face and murmur reassurances. Arianna clings to me with surprising strength, her little fingers bruising my skin with the ferocity of her love.

“I’ll never leave you, Ari.”

“Do you promise?” she demands.

“I promise. We’re going to go on a little trip when everything is ready. I need you to be brave for me. Can you do that? Be a big, brave girl?”

“Where are we going? What about Daddy?”

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