Blood Daughters: A Romilia Chacon Novel

Chapter 20

104 Chapter 20 Karen wished she were still asleep. For this was worse, much worse. This was what it must have been like when she was asleep all those hours, several years ago, when Minos had her bound and gagged. Minos had used a drug on her andonhisothervictimsthatmadethemforgeteverything.Sheremembered nothing of the abduction, nor the night spent in a storage warehouse, certainly not the next night, tied to a tree in a national park. Through the years her mind worked at retrieving those memories, as if needing them for some reason that she could not fathom. Yet it never succeeded. Whatever Ingrid gave her now did not wipe out memory. Just a rag over her face, smelling of something wet and alcoholic. She remembered the chase in the desert, the two men grabbing her, carrying her to the house, she screaming all the way. In the house they shoved her against the mattresses of an old, dusty couch, and she still screamed. The Latino teenage boys did not hit her, they just held her arms and legs down and laughed, almost embarrassedly, while looking to the open front door at Ingrid and Ritchie, who chatted with each other on the front porch while Karen screamed. Ritchie handed Ingrid a pack of cigarettes. They smoked. Karen’s yelps softened out of exhaustion, but after a minute’s rest she started again. “Could you shut her up?” said Ritchie, blowing out smoke. Ingrid walked in, put the cigarette to one side away from the glass bottle. She poured some of the bottle’s contents onto a rag and pressed the rag against Karen’s face. She saw the boy at her feet release her. He flicked his wrist and smiled at Ingrid, said “Thanks Ingrid,” and that was all Karen saw. Marcos M. Villatoro ~ 105 Now she awoke to the same place, the same old house, the smell of the decrepit couch. But the doors were all closed, as were the windows. No one was around. She was bound. Her wrists behind her, pressed against her lower back, not only by the cuffs, but by a rope that circled her abdomen, that held her wrists tight against her back. Her feet locked together as well, duct tape wrapped around her ankles. The same tape, no doubt, over her mouth— and her tongue, it did not move, due to a wad of cloth inside, pressed tight against her palate. She was naked. Someone in another room. A pot clanged against a stove. A radio played—no, a television. Spanish news. Univisión. Smells came from under the door, toasted tortillas, beans. Karen turned onto one side. She pulled her hands away from her back. Hardly an inch of movement. The television in the kitchen went dead. The door opened. Ingrid walked out. She sat in a chair next to the sofa, found a remote and turned on the television on the other side of the room. She tore the tortilla in half, rolled each half into a scoop and dipped a piece into the beans. Karenheardthepopofacolacanbeingopened.Thesprayofbubbles,the first gulp—if Karen turned her head, arched it back on the couch, she could see Ingrid holding the can to her lips and drinking. It made the cloth in her mouth feel harder, dry with evaporated saliva. She moaned; did Ingrid not hear it, due to the wad of cloth and the tape? Or did Ingrid just ignore her? A cell phone rang on a table to Ingrid’s right. “Yeah?” she answered. “Yeah, she just woke up, I heard her. Yeah she’s fine. No she ain’t started yet. I checked. This morning. Yeah. Listen, when can I get out a here? I’m tired of this shit, being in this house all alone. Why don’t you take her, watch her yourself? I know you’re busy, but what about me huh? Got that fucking funeral to go to. Yeah. I don’t know, and they ain’t said anything in the news, the Feds are keeping quiet. No, it’s all right. Better than staying in this shit hole with your latest girlfriend. You know you really gotta get over this thing, it’s slowing down business.” The man on the other end talked loudly. “Look, I’ll go to the funeral, then I’ll drop her off. What? No she won’t make no noise. I’ll knock her out. Yeah. Yeah, then I’ll bring her to the...