A.N. – It's been a while since the last time I thanked you guys for reading, and specially for reviewing. Many thanks, as the review count in this story has gone up over the last few chapters. Yay! That keeps me happy and motivated. :D

Sorry for being so cruel to Victoria, but that rape scene has opened interesting collaterals and avenues I need to explore now before I finish the story (sorry, I know, it never ends, but shit keeps happening to them. It just happens. After the long writer's block, the muse is back, and pages and pages get written now like… well, magic)

At least Mendoza has already stablished his heroic reputation, and I can tick that box off. (Checked!) And Diego now knows he is not essential and Los Angeles can live without Zorro (Checked!). 2 points I wanted to make and the main culprits of my writer's block, because for a while I couldn't figure out how to do it in a realistic way.

This chapter gives you Victoria's POV, sorry if it is a little bit repetitive to start with, but I like to keep the POV's separated, even if it means repeating an entire scene again (it is less confusing this way, I think), and then I wanted to explore how to resume a sex life after something like that gets in the way in a relationship. Not that I have any direct, personal experience in the matter at all, thank God, but I think it is an interesting issue… and I have some imagination.

Enjoy the awkwardness. In the end, I think it becomes kind of hilarious. Relationships would be so much easier sometimes if we could use telepathy to know what the other is thinking, and we don't get caught up on silly misunderstandings with our partners, don't you think? For example: two people trying to have sex to please the other when none of them really wants to have sex… a classic!

I don't think I need to put any "M-warnings" in this chapter. There is a mention of an erection, but well, you'll see…

Chapter 86 – Losing her mind

The insistent knocking interrupted her latest crying spell.

"Victoria, it's me, Diego. Are you alright? Open the door, please."

She considered ignoring him, but Diego would panic and kick the door down if she didn't open it. However, she didn't want him to see her crying again. She believed he was getting fed up of her neediness and the immature way she was dealing with this matter, getting impatient, probably willing to resume their sex life soon, for the way he attempted to touch her sometimes, when she was clearly not ready yet for that kind of contact. Couldn't he realize a mere week was not enough to heal, not physically, nor emotionally? It was too soon! Yes, they say that after falling from a horse, you should ride again immediately, but… this was a bit different, wasn't it? And she wasn't an irresistible, tempting mare in heat he had to chase all the time! Quite the opposite, if anything. Surely, a caballero like him could stay away from her for much longer than a bloody week if he put his mind to it! But to be fair, it had been much more than a week for him because they had not made love for a while, certainly not since her last period, more than two weeks ago… Well, what the heck, he went without sex for years before! He could handle a few weeks now, for sure.

He kept knocking, so she reluctantly got out of bed, hastily throwing a shawl over her shoulders, and opened the door, keeping her head down so he couldn't see her red, puffy eyes. She muttered a buenos días and went back to bed, covering her head with the sheet, hoping he would take the hint and leave her alone. But no, he didn't do that. Instead, he told her off for closing the door and he even had the nerve of asking her not to cry.

Not to cry!? How could that be possible, if those bastards had ruined her confidence like that? She hated that son of a bitch called Tomás so much, and she was glad he was dead and could never touch her again. At least Diego had had the pleasure of killing him, getting some closure, but she hadn't. She had been left with the humiliation and all those disturbing feelings of being permanently smeared, filthy, and unworthy. And on top of everything, maybe pregnant. Of course she couldn't help crying in shame and anger! I know it is easy for me to say this, but you shouldn't cry, he said, the idiot! Yes, easy for him to say that, indeed.

She loved Diego so much, but sometimes he exasperated her, being so stupidly patronizing, even if he didn't mean to. And the fool felt so guilty for what had happened, when he couldn't do anything about it, and he looked at her with such tortured anguish and pity in his eyes now, it made her feel like crying even more.

As long as he wasn't there to see it, she would have preferred having ten men raping her in a row, to spare him that pain of seeing only the one. It would have been different that way, and easier for her, because she could have use denial, and bury that memory somewhere in her brain, never revealing the gross details to him, getting on with her life. But she couldn't do that, because now they shared that memory, that horrid connection, and every time she looked into those blue eyes now, she swore she could see a reflection of herself naked on the floor, with her legs up and forced wide open, with that horrible man on top of her, and she was too embarrassed. She wasn't even sure she wanted to marry him officially anymore or run to hide in a cloistered convent instead, to become a nun and live out of reach from horrible men, and anybody else, for that matter.

Doctor Hernández also shared that memory of the abuse, and Pedro, to a lesser extent, and that mortified her. Even Mendoza saw her totally naked and fighting with the other bastard, for goodness sake! It was so humiliating she couldn't stand it. And she couldn't erase it from her memory, and more importantly, from theirs. And how did she manage to keep her cool when it was happening, not reacting and standing still to protect Diego, rather than screaming mad at the unfair situation? She didn't know. And she still felt like screaming her head off, anytime, but she wasn't even allowed to cry!

"We are getting married on Saturday, finally, and then we can go to Spain on our honeymoon, away from this place and the bad memories. And of course, there will be no more Zorro. Isn't that what you always wanted?"

Oh, Lord, was he reading her deranged mind? Yes, that's what she wanted! Before! But she wasn't the same person she was a week ago! And she hated what she had become, that crying wreck that couldn't stand the touch of her husband anymore.

When she felt his hand on her hip, she instinctively moved away from it, as if it burned, and it pained her so much imagining his sad, pitiful and concerned face. Something even harder to watch than his trademark, lost puppy face.

"Victoria, querida, por favor…"

"Go away!"

She hated herself. He was only trying to help, and he was so obviously worried about her, but everything he did felt so wrong now… Like lying down beside her. Why on earth did he feel the need of doing that, when she so clearly didn't want to be touched? When he passed his arm around her waist she froze, unable to move, like a defenceless prey in front of its hunter, paralyzed, and she didn't complain anymore. And the fool took this lack of rejection as some kind of consent to get closer, because he got comfy then, dragging her body to his.

Oh, no, please, don't. Don't do that!

When he pulled the sheet off her face, she lost it, even more when he grabbed her hands and didn't let her cover herself up again. And, to overwhelm her even more, he positioned his large frame slightly on top of her petite body.

"What are you doing? Let me go!" she cried, panicking, recalling the repulsive sensation of having that man at the tavern pinning her down on the table with his body weight.

"I'm not doing anything, calm down. I only want to lie here with you, cuddling, as we love to do, and talk to you."

He was partially right, because that was exactly the way they cuddled sometimes, and yes, a week ago she would have loved feeling secure in his protective arms, with his large, muscular body covering her back like a safety wall, and with her tiny hands wrapped up warm and cosy by his large mitt, but all this felt so wrong today, so wrong... Now she knew he couldn't really protect her from anything, or anybody, because all that was a delusion, a false sense of security, nothing but a bloody mirage. And, to make matters worse, she knew that most of the times, when he used that initial, seemingly innocent cosy move, they ended up having intimate contact, because they were incapable of cuddling without wanting more, winding each other up, getting in gear for sex. Yes, she had felt like that before, she couldn't get enough of him whenever she felt the warmth of his body so close to hers, but now… Can't you get it? Go away!

"Get off me then! Don't pin me down!" she cried, hysterical, wriggling to get away from him, from under his increasingly heavier, crushing weight. Vivid images and sensations of the rape started to flood her mind, and she panicked, because she had lost control of herself twice before, without any particular reason, and it frightened her so much to do it again.

"Cariño, I'm not restraining you. I only want to talk to you, please. I'm so worried about you," he said with his softest tone.

Why was this happening to her? How could she consider that gentle giant a threat? Why couldn't she just forget about what happened, hide the awful memory locked away in some recess of her mind, and carry on with her life, marrying this kind and caring man for the second time, starting a family, as she had always wanted? Diego insisted she shouldn't worry if she had got pregnant or not, because he would love that child as if he or she was his. She wanted children, she always had, but now she wished she could kill that life that could be growing inside her already. And she felt awful for thinking that. Like a murderer. Like them.

That thought tipped her over the edge, and she started to struggle, fighting Diego off for real, suffocating because she couldn't get away from him, until he let go of her and she jumped out of the bed.

"Don't you ever do that again!"

The veils of reality started to crumble again around her. She closed her eyes and she found herself in the library, standing between those two men, with that son of a bitch ripping her top off. But… that man was dead, Diego had killed him, so he couldn't be there! When she opened her eyes and looked at Tomás he indeed looked dead, with dried, glazed eyes, and maggots coming out of his nose, also spitting some from his rotten mouth while he laughed in her face. Terrified, she could hear Diego talking in the background, and she saw him on his armchair, moving his lips, but she couldn't understand what he was saying, too upset and disgusted by the living dead that had come out of his grave to rape her again. But she would not let him do it. Not this time. This time she would fight back.

"Don't touch me, you son of a bitch!"

The third bandit was still aiming his gun at Diego's head, but she would not stand still this time, no way. He was Zorro, sure he could handle that man easily. She jumped up, head-butting the man holding her on his chin. He let go of her, and with the distraction, Diego took the chance to kick the gun off that man's hand. She pushed that revolting, rotten, stinky corpse away from her, and lunged to grab the gun that had landed on the side table.

"Please, don't shoot," said that zombie, lifting his skeletal hands up.

How dared he asking for mercy, the fucking bastard?

She heard Diego again, saying he loved her. Well, of course he had to love her, she had just saved both of them!

"¡Cállate, cabrón!" she shouted to the rotten corpse, aiming the gun at his maggoty face, but the bastard kept moving forward, getting closer to her. "Don't come any closer or I'll shoot!"

The dead man laughed again, ignoring her, and kept walking towards her, so she closed her eyes to avoid seeing his revolting face exploding maggots everywhere, and pulled the trigger.

She jolted with the blast, and when she opened her eyes, she wasn't at the library anymore. She was back in her bedroom; the dreadful vision of that dead man had disappeared; and she was alone, but utterly confused. Her shaky hand was holding the gun she had hidden in the top drawer of her bedside table, and it was hot, with smoke coming out of it. She dropped it, and then she realized she wasn't alone. Diego was on the floor, flat at her feet, face down, looking dead or badly injured. As if she had killed him! Panicking, she sank on her knees, and shook his shoulders to wake him up, frantic. The anguish she felt at that very moment was unbearable.

"Diego! Diego, are you hurt?"

"For goodness sake, Victoria, you nearly killed me!" he cried, sitting up.

Thank God he was alive, and for once, unharmed! He was also very angry, understandably, but his reproach hurt her, because the last thing on earth she would like to do was killing him. She would prefer killing herself instead of hurting him, anytime.

She covered her face with both hands then, sobbing, shaking her head from side to side, non-stop. She had lost her mind, and she had nearly killed Diego. She should be locked in a lunatic asylum, and they should throw the key in the river, down the ravine.

"I didn't mean to! Oh, God, I didn't mean to!"

He left her side when Felipe and Don Alejandro stormed in, and she carried on crying and mumbling apologies incoherently, ignoring the other people present in the room, until he took her hand and got her up, calling her preciosa. How could he call her preciosa when she had nearly killed him, and while her hair looked like a raven's nest? She wasn't preciosa, she was horrible, such a burden for him, and now a real danger as well, as mad as a hatter.

He made her sit at the bed, and then he sat down with her, showing such worry and love in his tortured blue eyes, she couldn't help herself and flung into his arms, not willing to let go, clinging onto him.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

"I know you didn't mean it, don't worry, mi amor. I'm alright, nothing happened. Calm down, please," he said with a shaky voice, caressing her back. Strangely enough, she didn't mind his touch anymore. In fact, now she needed him touching her, keeping her in that realm of existence, afraid she could slip back into the nightmare again otherwise. "I'm so sorry I shouted at you, forgive me, but I was so scared for a moment… I really thought you would hit me with that bullet, and this time I had no one to hate or fight with, nothing to help me focus, nothing to keep my fear under control. Sorry, I panicked and then I shouted at you, but it's not your fault."

She could feel his hands and his whole body shaking now, the same as his voice, so he wasn't lying: he had feared for his life this time, and he got truly frightened. The mighty Zorro, who wasn't scared of anything or anyone, feared her. That thought made her cry even more. And the fool, as usual, was blaming himself!

She pulled back from the embrace to look at him through her drenched, sore, red eyes, holding his trembling hands in hers. She had never seen him like this, but this was the fifth time he had a gun trained at him during the last few days. Enough to unnerve anyone. Even him.

"Of course it's my fault, you fool, not yours! I was the one with the gun, seeing things that were not there. And I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me!"

"I thought you would hurt me or even kill me unintentionally, and then you would hurt yourself as well when you realized what you had done, and that scared me so much. So much," he said, avoiding her eyes while he caressed her hands with his thumbs, too upset and embarrassed to look at her. "I didn't want that to happen, but I didn't know what to do, because you were not listening. I'm the one to be sorry, Victoria. I should not have touched you when you didn't want to be touched. I think that physical contact set your regression in motion, reliving the moment of the attack."

She held his head in her hands then, making him look at her.

"Diego, look at me and tell me: what's happening to me? What's going on? One moment you were there, and the next it was that horrible man, who was already dead, and covered in maggots, but he was still trying to rape me again, and he didn't back off when I told him I would fire the gun, and then… and then I nearly killed you. Please, help me! Am I going crazy?"

ZZZ

"Felipe, I'm so worried. What do you think happened in there?" Don Alejandro said, still standing at the corridor. Diego had literally push them out of Victoria's bedroom, and he had locked the door behind them. Very odd, rude behaviour for him. And the gunshot they heard was real. "Who fired that gun? Her? Why?"

Felipe could only shrug his shoulders. He didn't have a clue either, but yes, that gun didn't go off by accident. And for the way she was crying her heart out, she had fired the gun. Against who? Diego? Why on earth would she do that? Did she hate him now because he couldn't protect her?

"I don't know what's going on either, but I don't like it. Come with me, please."

Felipe followed Don Alejandro to the library, where the old don sat down and served himself a glass of brandy. Very unusual for him to do that in the morning, but he looked very upset.

"You were here, Felipe. Can you tell me exactly what happened? Nobody has told me what went on in here, step by step. If I knew, maybe I could understand some things."

Don Alejandro looked around him, trying to imagine how horrible that experience could have been, for both of them. After the assault, Victoria wasn't doing well, but Diego wasn't either. For a man like him, having to stand still while that happened to his wife, raped in front of his eyes, it must have left a very deep mark on his pride. He couldn't imagine himself standing still if anybody was raping his beloved Felicidad. In his case, they would all have died, because he would not have controlled his temper like Diego did. But his son was smarter than him.

Felipe told him he was at the cave when it happened, and that he watched for a while from the spy hole, unsure what to do. For his gestures, the old don understood they rough-handled Diego badly while he felt so unbalanced, treating him like a puppet, thrashing him around. But Felipe only watched until that bastard pulled one of the guns in the safe at Diego's face. The youngster said he went outside with the weapons then, where he joined Pablo and Sergeant Mendoza, and when he returned to the library it was already over, and Diego was holding Victoria in his arms, wrapped in the curtain.

Don Alejandro swallowed the rest of the liquor in one go, and he left the glass on the table, wondering if he should serve another shot. He looked at the wall, at the new picture that covered the safe, that was full again, because he had not bothered to take that bloody money to the bank yet. El cochino dinero, always at the centre of trouble, making people behave like animals, or even monsters.

"Have you noticed how they avoid this room now, both of them?"

Felipe nodded with a very long, sad face.

"It breaks my heart too, and I don't know how to help them. I hope things get better after the wedding."

ZZZ

"Please, help me! Am I going crazy?"

Oh, Lord. How could he answer that? Because that was exactly his concern. But he couldn't tell her that. She was too upset already.

"No, mi amor, you are not crazy. I talked to Doctor Hernández. He said this kind of thing happens to soldiers that got very stressed in battle," Diego said, caressing her hair, combing it back a bit with his still trembling hand. "He said you should accept what happened and try to move on. There is nothing we can do to change what happened, and we can only move forward."

"I'm scared."

"Yeah, me too, look," he said with and odd, shy smile, showing her his unsteady hand. She looked at it for a moment, and then looked back at him, caressing his face.

"Diego, I want to go back on the horse."

"What?"

ZZZ

His hand was still trembling. She wanted to calm him down, reassure him she would never hurt him, but how could she affirm that, if she could get all loony again five minutes from then? But there was one thing she could do for him right now. If he wanted to have sex, that would help him to relax, and to feel alive. Her laceration had healed already, and if she showed any real discomfort, she knew he would never hurt her, so maybe it was time to go back on the horse, and to prove herself she could control her emotions more rationally. Maybe that would help her to remove the image of that dead man from her mind. Or she could fail spectacularly, going mental while he made love to her, and be taken to the asylum. But that way Diego would be safe without her crazy wife around trying to kill him.

"Diego, I want to go back on the horse."

"What?" he said, puzzled. He didn't understand her, of course. She would have to show him. "What horse?"

"I know this is what you want. And after what I have done to you, I owe you this."

She kissed him passionately, but he didn't respond. Well, not only he didn't respond to that kiss, he actually pulled back, away from her lips. She hated the look on his face then. He looked shocked, but also… disgusted?

ZZZ

She passed her hand behind his neck and she suddenly pull down to kiss him, urgently, with such fervour he pulled back, stunned. A moment ago, she couldn't tolerate a finger on her, and now this! She was losing her mind, definitely, and that made him grimace.

"Am I that repulsive to you now, after that revolting tongue was in my mouth?"

She looked shocked at his rejection, so hurt. Good Lord… what was going on? He didn't have a clue how to handle this weird situation, nothing he did seemed to be the right choice. Nothing!

"No, it's not that. It's only…" she threw herself on the bed then, face down, crying again. "Victoria, please, don't do that."

He turned her over on her back and leaned over her then. If this was what she really wanted now, he had to take the chance, because it could be his only one to make love to her before she discovered she was pregnant with a bastard child.

He kissed her then, and she responded eagerly, using her tongue like a tornado, as if willing to swallow him whole. He replied in a similar fashion, and they rolled on the bed, with their urge out of control, like animals. Until Diego thought about her words, and then had a disturbing flashback of that mouth full of rotten teeth. Am I that repulsive to you now, after that revolting tongue was in my mouth? Yes, the revolting tongue of that son of a bitch had wandered freely in her mouth. He felt sick, and he pulled back again, panting. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to push that disconcerting image off his mind, but it wouldn't go away.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing, nothing is wrong," he said, unbuttoning his shirt to give himself something to do away from that mouth, while he fought that upsetting thought.

ZZZ

Oh, God, this is such a bad idea.

When he leaned over her to kiss her again, she couldn't help but remember how repulsive the contact with Tomás's tongue was, his fetid breath, and how it made her retch. She had to make a great effort to put that memory to a side, and she responded eagerly to Diego's kiss, in the opposite way she had done with that man, when she stood still as if she was dead. Now, she aggressively explored Diego's mouth to expel that abhorrent feeling from her mind. And he responded so eagerly too, so fiercely, it overwhelmed her. He really wanted her!

She was happy when he stopped kissing her, giving her a break. However, she played the concerned card, rather that sighing with relief.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing is wrong," he said rather too quickly. It looked like he was really in a rush to get the job done today, because he started to take off his shirt already. Next, he would try to remove her clothes. Not ready for that yet, still composing herself from that awkward kiss, she decided to stall him, using her hands all over his torso, exploring every inch of his skin, lingering there to hinder his advances.

ZZZ

Jesus! She was so eager today, so demanding… He had barely opened his shirt when her hands were all over him already. But… how would she react when he reached for her clothes to remove then? Well, he wasn't going to pull them and tear them apart, like that bastard did, so if he tried very delicately, maybe she wouldn't notice much… Nah, who was he kidding? Of course she was going to notice when he uncovered her gorgeous breasts! Breasts that those filthy hands had handled so roughly… Dios mío, por favor, ayúdame. Let me forget all that, please!

Unwilling to check her reaction at being naked yet, he carried on removing his own clothes first, on his knees on the bed, while her zealous hands gave him a good polishing all over. Then, he was in for a surprise. When he pulled down his trousers and his underwear, nothing sprang up at attention. He looked down, and he could not believe it.

Mierda. Now? Really? Today, of all days?

He was so caught up in his performance, with his mind so full of disturbing thoughts, he had not realized he wasn't ready himself, not at all. There wasn't a hint of an erection there. But maybe she had not noticed. He left the trousers there, at his knees, and lowered his body on top of hers quickly, to kiss her again. He needed to get aroused, but the bloody image of that man kissing her, and then rough-handling her breasts, and finally humping her, prevented him of a much-needed erection.

He knew most men at some point in their life would fail to get one, for some reason or another, but it had never happened to him before, and with Victoria it was always quite the opposite: he could get an inconvenient hard-on with only sniffing her scent near him.

Joder. Coño. Me cago en su puta madre. ¡Vamos!

He mentally cursed as never before while he carried on kissing her, but that didn't help matters at all. His little soldier was asleep, and she would notice soon, if she hadn't already.

ZZZZZ

A.N. – I'm sorry, but I'm going to leave this sexual tragicomedy here because this chapter is getting stupidly long already, near 5000k including the author's notes. This way, before I post the next chapter, we'll give Diego a bit of time to get a hard-on, poor thing, hahahaha.