finish, he rinses me off, then runs his hands up my legs, over my privates, and then under my armpits.
He holds out two towels, and I wrap my hair in one and the other around my body. He sets flip flops on the ground, and I step into them.
I don't question where we are going. He leads me to a table in the next cell that's full of food.
"Eat."
I sit and eat.
He slams a toothbrush and toothpaste on the table. "Brush."
I obey.
He pulls my chair out. "Up, now."
I rise, and he points.
He guides me up several flights of stairs and into a sitting room. "Don't move." He leaves, and I stare at the same spot on the floor for what feels like hours.
Santiago finally comes in and stands in front of me. "Did you have a good time, Zoe?"
I stay quiet and blink hard, but an ocean of tears erupts.
"Look at me," he screams.
I tilt my head up.
"Who owns you, Zoe Diego?"
I sob.
"Answer me," he bellows. "Who owns you?"
"You do."
"What do you do when my men or myself tell you what to do?"
"I do it," I sniffle.
"The next time you disobey, I'll show you what real hell is like. Do you understand?"
"Y...yes."
He steps back and removes my towel, so I'm naked. "Lift your arms."
I lift them, and he inspects my armpits, then trails his finger down my torso, bikini line, and legs. "Turn."
I spin, and he inspects me further then turns me back. "You shall act like a lady in my presence. If you wish to be anything other, you will go back to the cell. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir."
"No. Wrong answer."
Oh no.
"Yes, Se帽or G贸mez."
"No. You will call me Master. That is what slaves call their owners. And you, Zoe Diego, are mine. You shall entertain my men or myself whenever I demand it. There will be no complaining or hesitation. Do you understand."
I close my eyes, but the waterworks won't stop.
"Yes," I whisper.
"Yes, what?" he screams in my face.
My eyelids fly open. I cry out, "Yes, Master."
Santiago's face turns arrogant. "Get her out of here."
His thug drags me away as I plead with Santiago not to send me back to the cell.
Terror consumes me, and I don't realize we're going upstairs and not down. He opens a door and pushes me in before slamming it.
At first, I bang on it.
"Zoe," Penelope's voice rings in my ears, and I freeze.
When I turn, she tugs me into her arms, and I sob.
There is nothing left of me. My life is over, and I'll never escape the grasp of Santiago and be me again.
You lost you a long time ago.
Reality slaps me over and over. Time passes quickly when Santiago's thug comes back into the room and throws a formal dress on the bed. He points to Penelope. "That's for you." He hands me a pair of six-inch stilettos. "This is your outfit tonight."
My gut churns, and I don't need to ask. I already know the answer. "Where're my clothes?"
"You don't get any. You both have forty minutes to get ready. Don't make Santiago wait." He slams the door, and the lock clicks.
Penelope quietly says, "Come on. We need to get ready."
"Is this all we are to be?"
She blinks, then leans to my ear and whispers, "For now. But my daughter is out there, so somehow, there has to be a way out. Tonight we play his game. Let's go." She takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom and helps me with my hair and makeup.
"I don't want to sing naked," I whisper and try not to smear my makeup.
"Shhh. You can do this. You used to go on stage with hardly any clothes, right?"
I sniffle, "Yeah."
"So pretend that's what's happening."
I inhale deeply and nod. "Okay."
The man comes to get us.
"Head up, rockstar," Penelope mumbles.
I straighten up and make my way through the house to the grand ballroom.
Penelope squeezes my hand, and she sits at Santiago's table. His thug guides me to the front of the stage.
There are over one hundred men, and they all begin to shout, whistle, and make lewd comments.
You're just on stage. Deal with it, or you'll be back in the cell.
The lights go down and a boy who's maybe thirteen hands me a microphone.
It's the first time I've sung sober in years. The first song takes a few notes to get into it, but then I forget about Santiago and his crew. For several hours, I lose myself in my music.