Thanks for all the encouragement! It helps me to keep writing!
A/N: This chapter was a bit hard to write.
Warnings: Mentions of rape and suicide.
Sorry for my grammar and vocabulary mistakes.
She wasn't sure if she could endure another day listening to his voice. She knew he wasn't dead, Laura probably was, but he wasn't. She had had him on her arms while they waited the ambulance to arrive, she had gently caressed his burned face, promising him over and over again that everything would be alright.
The next day when she asked his father abour his health, she was told in a cold way that he had died, along his sister, and that she shouldn't bother to come there again. She had been crushed, crying in front of the Manor's closed door, thinking that everything she had, had been taken away from her.
And then she heard it.
'Help!' It was a faint sound, if it had been weaker she would't have heard it. But she heard it anyway. It sounded just like him.
"Rubén?" She obtained no response. Anyone whom she told this would think she had imagined it, but she knew what she had heard.
The next day, ignoring Mister Victoriano's warnings, she returned to the same spot. Hoping to hear it again. And just like the day before, there it was.
'Help!' This time it sounded louder, like if he was sobbing. Margarita's heart tore in two hearing her friends suffering. Why would Mister Victoriano lie to her? Why did he tell her Rubén had died too? Anyway, the voice seemed to come from the bottom of the mansion, specifically the basement, what was he doing there? He needed to recover from the fire!
Margarita slipped through the servant's entrance, hoping nobody would notice her, as they all seemed to be mourning the supposed death of the Victoriano children. On all fours, she arrived towards the main hall, which had a side door which left to the basement. Looking around to ensure she wouldn't get caught she approached the door and turned the knob. It was locked, she didn't count that it could be locked. Now she would have to search for the ke-
A hand grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back, making her fall on her butt.
"What are you doing here!? I told you to not come back!" A fumming Ernesto Victoriano screamed at her while he loomed over her.
"B-but sir, I've heard Rubén asking for help, he's still ali-"
A sharp slap on her left cheek make her fall again to the ground.
"You little witch! Spawn of Dalila! Servant of Satan! How dare you to come to my house after having lost my two children to that burning hell and tell me that they are still alive?!"
Margarita's cheek stang from the pain and her eyes were full of tears.
"But I heard him..." She whimpered, and she received another slap, harder than the last one.
"My son is dead! Just like his sister!" He bellowed, grabbing her roughly by her elbow and leading her towards the basement door. He pulled out a bunch of keys from his pocket, and opened the door, almost shoving her inside that darkened room.
"There's nothing in there! Nothing to see!" He bellowed at her while leading her towards the front door. Margarita was crying now in pain and fear.
"Please, mister, you're hurting me!" She sobbed, but she wasn't listened.
Ernesto Victoriano opened the front door and pushed her roughly outside, making her fall and scratch her elbows and knees. He then closed the door on her with a resounding slam. Margarita managed to lift herself up from the ground and ignoring her aching limbs she ran sobbing towards her house. However, the memory started to change, and soon she found herself teleported to the front of a small window in the garden, where she could see and hear a disfigured boy howling in rage and pain.
Margarita reluctantly opened her eyes. It had all been a dream. But that was so real, the vines, the blood, the man. Looking at her wrists she only saw creamy human skin, not even a drop of blood, she couldn't taste it on her mouth either. And her dress was as good as new.
She tried to pull out, but a sharp pain in her lower middle section made her freeze. It burned, a lot, and not in a menstruating way. Her breath caught in her throath when finally acknowledging the thruth.
That hadn't been a dream, the man had raped her and now she was his whore. He had humilliated her in the worst way possible.
A sob tore through her throat as tears ran freely down her cheeks. She was a disgusting piece of meat, a sexual toy, a dirty slut. Nobody would want her now.
Her body started convulsing in fear and pain, and she found it hard to breath. As a doctor, she knew she was hyperventilating and going into shock, but as a recent victim of a rape she couldn't find any fuck to give.
With trembling limbs and ignoring the ache within her legs, she stumbled towards the bathroom where she took a good look at herself in the mirror. She only caught a glimpse of a crying girl with bloodshot eyes, messy hair and red cheeks, before throwing a soap to her reflection, shattering the glass into million of pieces that fell at her feet.
She grabbed one of the glasses, and positioned it pointing to her chest, where her heart was beating with pain and humiliation. Now she knew there was only one way to escape that nightmare, it may be the coward's way but she had always been labelled as a coward, so why not die like one? The glass descended fast to sink on her chest, she could almost feel its sharpness pierce her ski-
"NO!" A masculine voice thundered through the room at the same time the temperature dropped.
The sharp glass vanished from her hand, and so did the others that where on the ground. Margarita trembled in shock. She couldn't even take her own life, all the shame was replaced with anger.
"WHY!? WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT FROM ME NOW!?" She collapsed to the ground, her body shaking with the sobs that tore through her.
"Why are you doing this?" She whispered between sobs.
She didn't know how much time she spent like that, crying with her head buried on her knees, time never seemed to pass when you were a prisioner.
A gunshot was heard on the outside and Margarita jumped to her feet. Had someone finally called the police? Were they going to rescue her? The sound of a vicious scream was heard and heavy footsteps approached her room. And suddenly she wasn't so sure if whoever was there was comming to rescue her. Fear took a hold of her body, but even so, she grabbed a jar and stood beside the front doors.
The doorknob turned slowly. She could hear someone reloading his gun, when she caught a small glimpse of him or her, she crashed the jar on his or her head, shattering into pieces and making him, as she now could see it was male, fall into the ground with a shriek of a mix of pain and surprise.
Margarita didn't expect him to get up so fast, and soon she found herself at the end of a shotgun, which was instantly lowered as he saw who he was pointing.
"Why the fuck did you do that?" The man, taller than her, with pale skin, a two days beard and hair sliced back, demanded.
"I-i thought you were one of those things." She muttered. The man sighed in resignation.
"How long have you been there?" He asked her.
"I-i don't know." She answered. She truly didn't know how much time she had been trapped there. It could have been days, or weeks.
The man rolled his eyes. "Fucking great." He grumbled. "Alright, let's get us out of this fucking hellhole."
Before he could take another step, Margarita grabbed his arm. "Wait!"
The armed man looked at her annoyed. "What?"
"I need to change my clothes."
The man's eyes widened. "Really miss? We are going to fight psychotic monsters not going to a tea party!" But she didn't listen to him.
The first thing Margarita did when she arrived at the bathroom was taking that dress off, she never wanted to see it again. She pulled her old clothes from the bathtub and dressed up, ignoring how cold they felt on her skin. Looking at herself in the mirror, she could see in her eyes how wrecked she was and how hard it was going to be for her to recover from the trauma. She forced herself to put it aside now she had a chance to return home, but she also promised to herself she would deal with it later and take as much help as she needed. But now, escaping was the priority.
She stepped from the bathroom and got ready to follow the man to what he had so elegantly described as a 'fucking hellhole'.
"The name is Sebastián, by the way; Detective Sebastián Castellanos." He said without looking at her.
"Dr. Margarita Hernández." She mumbled while she looked hesitantly at the amount of guns he had with him.
"Well, 'Dr. Hernández' this is not going to be a walk in the park. An horrible death is what we are going to face here. So I recommend you to stay as close to me as possible, and if I were you, I would pray to have a good aim." Sebastián said while handing her a small service pistol. "Because you're definitely going to need it. Now, let's go."
As soon as they stepped out from the room, as she looked at her surroundings Margarita's worse fears were confirmed. It was someone who knew her from her past who had brought her there, because the place where she had been staying, as she observed with a heart full of fear and anxiety, was no other than the Victoriano's mansion.
Ruvik watched with a heart full of rage as his subject and his bride stepped out from the guest's room. How dare he? Who did he think he was? She was his! He didn't have any right to take her away from him. He needed her... to feel a bit sane.
As for Margarita, why would she try to take her own life? Didn't she see that they were meant to be together? He had expected her to be scared, to be hurt, as his lovemaking had been quite unexpected and harsh for their first time. But he had never thought she would go to that lenghts.
She was the last piece that remained of his sanity, and he was starting to break her.
For the first time Ruvik wondered if she would still love him after that.
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