It was blurry.
That's all Hector could see the moment he opened his eyes. Blinking a few more times helped, for his vision slowly became clearer. Head pounding, he attempted to hold the spot that hurt. But he couldn't.
Looking down, he realized his hands were tied behind the back of the chair he was sitting on. His feet were tied up as well, just like his torso was tied against the wooden chair. All of the struggling the young man did was useless. The knots were tied to perfection.
Hector took in his surroundings. Still in the hotel room; across from him was Ernesto, sitting on a stool staring at two pieces of paper, pretending to not even notice what he had done.
"Ernesto! Qué esta pasando? What's going on?", asked Hector.
Ernesto continued to stare at the pieces of paper. "I didn't want to do this, amigo. But, it came to this."
"Qué? What are you talking about?", asked Hector as he kept trying to break free.
"I told you. I need you, Hector. One way or another I'll make you stay. Don't you see how close we are to what we've always wanted to achieve? But no. You want to give it all up just like that?!", exclaimed Ernesto, snapping his fingers.
"And I told you my mind is made up", said Hector firmly. "Unite me. Esto es Loco! Did you really think this was going to keep me here?"
"Of course not! But that drink certainly did the trick. You've been asleep for hours. I could've added more of those pills..."
Hector gasped. "You drugged me?"
"Sí", said Ernesto, smiling slyly.
How could this be happening? Never would Hector ever expect his so called "friend" to do this to him. And all to become famous?
Show business sure was cutthroat...
For the first time in the long weeks they had been on the road, Hector became terrified. Terrified of the reality he could have been killed, by his friend no less. Imelda was right about everything. He should have listened to her; she never liked Ernesto.
"You don't need me. If you want this so bad, just take my songs and go solo."
"Don't be an idiot!", yelled Ernesto as he stood up and rampaged his way in front of Hector and was suddenly face to face with him. "You've only written six songs! That's not enough to get us through this entire tour. You have to come up with some more..."
"Or else what?!", demanded Hector who at this point became equally just as enraged. "I'm not changing my mind! I'm going home."
Hector had never been punched before.
Okay, once by Imelda for accidentally smashing some of her cherished plates, but she had never done it with the immense force that Ernesto had just done. He could feel the sting on his face.
The moment Ernesto had grabbed Hector by the front of his shirt, something had collided with the back of his head and made a tiny thud on the ground behind him. Turning around, he picked up the tiny pink shoe.
Across the room, stood Coco, trying her best to look angry just like her mama... as much as she could in her nightgown and wearing only one shoe. "Nesto! Leave my papa alone!"
"Coco", muttered Hector, relaxing when he saw his daughter running towards him. Since she was still very tiny, all she could do was hug her papa's legs. He wished for nothing more than to hold her. "It's okay, sweetheart. I'm alright", he lied, forcing a smile. Through the pain he had to be strong for her in this twisted reality.
Their moment of "happiness" was broken the minute Ernesto had pulled his little girl away from him, holding her by her arm.
"No!", exclaimed Hector, struggling harder than ever to loosen his restraints. "Don't you touch her!"
"Papa!", cried Coco, tears forming in her eyes again.
Ernesto put on his false act of security. "Relax, Hector. I think you now see the situation you're in", he said as he not so gently pinched one of Coco's cheeks. "Do as I say, and I promise you, nothing will happen to your sweet little girl."
"Sí, Ernesto, sí", pleaded Hector, not bearing the thought of any parent's worst nightmare. "Just let her go..."
"In good time", said Ernesto, as he dragged Coco back to her room, pushed her in and locked the door. "In good time."