of extremely loud
and drunken partygoers. I debate whether to join the line or take my chances
and try to hail a cab from the road.
“Wait up, man,” I hear the call from behind
me.
Eric walks toward me, the girls from the
bar in tow. Amy’s arms are crossed over her chest and the pout on her lips
tells me she’s received the message—I’m not interested.
“We’ll get a cab together,” Eric says, his
hand now latched onto Bianca’s. I take it their night isn’t over yet. He lowers
his voice. “We’ll put Amy in a taxi first.”
For the first time all evening we’re on the
same page and after an awkward few moments a taxi arrives and we bid Amy
farewell.
When the next cab pulls up Eric and Bianca
pile in the back, while I take the front seat. After a whole two seconds of
foreplay, Bianca is practically dry humping Eric in the backseat.
“Settle down back there,” the driver lets
out in a huff.
They calm down for a few moments, before I
hear the sucking of each other’s faces continue. The driver shakes his head,
but doesn’t say anything else. I guess he’s used to it.
When we pull up at the
apartment Eric and Bianca head straight upstairs leaving me to settle the bill.
He assesses my tip and nods his head
graciously. “Have a good night.”
“I doubt that,” I mutter sarcastically. He
grunts knowing exactly what I’m referring to before driving off into the night.
I climb the flimsy staircase and find the
apartment door wide open. The lights are off, but I can hear Bianca giggling
from the bedroom.
I let out a low groan. Settling on the
sofa, I cover my ear with my pillow trying to block out the sounds coming from
the room next to me. I squeeze my eyes closed and think of Leila. Serenity
overtakes my body and soon enough I’m asleep.
That night I dream of cool blue waters,
soft white sand, and for just one night, I feel as though I’m in paradise.
Chapter
18
Leila
It’s dark in here. The darkness surrounds me—overwhelms
me. I feel as though it may swallow me up.
And then someone flicks a switch.
Light.
A light so bright that it takes me a moment
to adjust. The beaming glow almost blinds me. I blink several times and then
take the opportunity to assess my body.
I look down at my arms, they are blurred in
my dizzy haze, but I see track marks lining the insides of my arms. They’ve
drugged me. Someone has drugged me.
I feel the unrelenting need to vomit
surface within. My legs are shaking, making it impossible to stand upright. I
take hold of the silver pole that sits center stage and try to steady myself.
I close my eyes and I can breathe. Finally,
I can breathe.
The stage keeps spinning, around and
around, causing the nausea to resurface. I clasp my hand to my mouth and breathe
through my nose.
“Just breathe,” I tell myself.
One breath …two…three.
Another light turns on, it glares into my
eyes and once again, it blinds me.
I hold my arm over my eyes, trying to
shield my face. “Get that light out of my eyes,” I shout in Portuguese, not
English.
“Leila,” I hear someone say.
“Vai embora,” I tell them. Go away.
“Leila,” the voice sounds again, this time
louder and much clearer. I look up and this time I see a face.
I can’t make out exactly who it is.
The room turns dark again. Pitch black, and
it’s eerily silent. And then he clears his throat. He reaches forward and grabs
my arm, his fingers digging into my skin like a vice.
I cry out, but no one hears my pleas, no
one comes to save me.
I let out a tormented scream, but all there
is is darkness.
I startle awake and sit upright in bed. I
feel the rapid beat of my heart threatening to jump out of my chest.
I had that dream again, the same memories,
yet a different sequence of events. I don’t know what it means. I don’t know
why he chose me.
Lying back down, I pull the covers to my
chin and hope for sleep to take me in, but this time, I don’t want to
and drunken partygoers. I debate whether to join the line or take my chances
and try to hail a cab from the road.
“Wait up, man,” I hear the call from behind
me.
Eric walks toward me, the girls from the
bar in tow. Amy’s arms are crossed over her chest and the pout on her lips
tells me she’s received the message—I’m not interested.
“We’ll get a cab together,” Eric says, his
hand now latched onto Bianca’s. I take it their night isn’t over yet. He lowers
his voice. “We’ll put Amy in a taxi first.”
For the first time all evening we’re on the
same page and after an awkward few moments a taxi arrives and we bid Amy
farewell.
When the next cab pulls up Eric and Bianca
pile in the back, while I take the front seat. After a whole two seconds of
foreplay, Bianca is practically dry humping Eric in the backseat.
“Settle down back there,” the driver lets
out in a huff.
They calm down for a few moments, before I
hear the sucking of each other’s faces continue. The driver shakes his head,
but doesn’t say anything else. I guess he’s used to it.
When we pull up at the
apartment Eric and Bianca head straight upstairs leaving me to settle the bill.
He assesses my tip and nods his head
graciously. “Have a good night.”
“I doubt that,” I mutter sarcastically. He
grunts knowing exactly what I’m referring to before driving off into the night.
I climb the flimsy staircase and find the
apartment door wide open. The lights are off, but I can hear Bianca giggling
from the bedroom.
I let out a low groan. Settling on the
sofa, I cover my ear with my pillow trying to block out the sounds coming from
the room next to me. I squeeze my eyes closed and think of Leila. Serenity
overtakes my body and soon enough I’m asleep.
That night I dream of cool blue waters,
soft white sand, and for just one night, I feel as though I’m in paradise.
Chapter
18
Leila
It’s dark in here. The darkness surrounds me—overwhelms
me. I feel as though it may swallow me up.
And then someone flicks a switch.
Light.
A light so bright that it takes me a moment
to adjust. The beaming glow almost blinds me. I blink several times and then
take the opportunity to assess my body.
I look down at my arms, they are blurred in
my dizzy haze, but I see track marks lining the insides of my arms. They’ve
drugged me. Someone has drugged me.
I feel the unrelenting need to vomit
surface within. My legs are shaking, making it impossible to stand upright. I
take hold of the silver pole that sits center stage and try to steady myself.
I close my eyes and I can breathe. Finally,
I can breathe.
The stage keeps spinning, around and
around, causing the nausea to resurface. I clasp my hand to my mouth and breathe
through my nose.
“Just breathe,” I tell myself.
One breath …two…three.
Another light turns on, it glares into my
eyes and once again, it blinds me.
I hold my arm over my eyes, trying to
shield my face. “Get that light out of my eyes,” I shout in Portuguese, not
English.
“Leila,” I hear someone say.
“Vai embora,” I tell them. Go away.
“Leila,” the voice sounds again, this time
louder and much clearer. I look up and this time I see a face.
I can’t make out exactly who it is.
The room turns dark again. Pitch black, and
it’s eerily silent. And then he clears his throat. He reaches forward and grabs
my arm, his fingers digging into my skin like a vice.
I cry out, but no one hears my pleas, no
one comes to save me.
I let out a tormented scream, but all there
is is darkness.
I startle awake and sit upright in bed. I
feel the rapid beat of my heart threatening to jump out of my chest.
I had that dream again, the same memories,
yet a different sequence of events. I don’t know what it means. I don’t know
why he chose me.
Lying back down, I pull the covers to my
chin and hope for sleep to take me in, but this time, I don’t want to
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