This was not fun to write.
Prompt: Misconceptions
Words: 478
Antonia wept into her tissue, utterly humiliated. All she had left to return to now was a lonely room in a boarding house. She blushed in embarrassment, realizing how badly she must have cursed. Thankfully, the curses were in Spanish, so she doubted this new bartender knew many of them. Even still, she apologized.
He waved a hand as a red stoplight shone into the car. "Don't worry, I've heard it before."
"You have?" Antonia asked.
Garrett turned and smiled at her. "I'm a bartender. At times I feel like I'm like a priest at a confessional."
Antonia returned the smile. Turning away, she saw it fall in her reflection in the window. She could barely think of setting foot in a church again, what with the divorce. "I suppose what I'd want to confess is marrying young, and believing that something good would come of it."
"Why?" Garrett asked, rotating the wheel ever so slightly, and smiling to himself when Antonia didn't notice the car's shift in route.
She sighed. "Angel was a gentleman, and quite handsome. We seemed to have our entire life figured out, and it was nice for a while, you know?"
"But it wasn't as easy as it looked, right?" Garrett supplied, inwardly smirking at her expense.
"No, it wasn't," she replied in a drained tone of voice, "It's hard to make a life when you're young. Then he became possessive, and threatened any man who came close to me. I felt like I was caged."
Suddenly, she sat up. "Wait, I don't recognize this neighborhood." Antonia's nostrils flared. She clutched her pocketbook tightly to herself with one hand, while the other gripped at the lever to her door.
Garrett smiled at her, and turned the car into a dark alley. "We're right where we should be." Antonia slammed her elbow against her window, and screamed for help.
Garrett turned shut off the engine, and reached into his pocket to pull on a glove. Lunging forward, he grabbed her around the back of her head, and jammed his gloved fingers in her mouth. Antonia bit down hard on his fingers. Balling his other hand into a fist, he slammed it into the side of her head.
Antonia, stunned, lay dazed against the window, her pocketbook slipping to fall on the floor. Garrett reached into his left side pocket, and pulled out a handkerchief to jam in her still-open mouth. When she shook her head feebly, he shot his fingers down her throat. She retched, giving him enough room to stuff the cloth in.
Fastening his fingers about her wrist, he ordered, "Now, come outside, Antonia. Oh, and one more thing," she let out a muffled squeak as he undid the first button to her jacket with his free hand, "You should probably say a Hail Mary, as is your penance. You'll need it."