Heroine Hearts

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  That got his attention.

  “Conditions?” Joaquín asks, cocking a brow. “Like what?”

  “Isla becomes mine,” my statement causes Santiago to splutter, but I just grin at them both. “She’s got a lot more demons to face than she can overcome in four days. I want to be the one to stop her doing anything reckless because your son decided shooting a sober, intolerant girl with heroin was a way to weaken her most.”

  Santiago begins to smirk, probably as he remembers her when he pushed her to the high.

  “She was far more fun like that,” Santiago jeers, the smile only growing. “She gave up fighting me when I forced myself into her once the drugs hit her entire system,” his smugness growing all the time.

  “Shut up,” Joaquín announces, smacking his hand into his son’s stomach. “You’ve had your fun you don’t get to gloat when you fuck up like you did,” Joaquín’s eyes taper as he focuses on me. “How is she after the reaction?”

  “In all honesty, better than I expected, but she’s still weak,” I know I could worsen her recovery for them and they’d believe me, but I want to set a plan into motion and to do that I need to get Isla back into the game. “I don’t know what effects the seizures would have had on her and we won’t know, not without a hospital. Now with that not being an option, I want to be close to her. I know your plan isn’t to kill her or that would’ve happened by now, but likewise, you want to be able to send a healthy girl on runs.”

  “That’s right...”

  “She’s not well enough for that,” I state, making sure he’s aware. “Although she’s been cold turkey longer than Santiago was able to inject her with heroin, I still worry about how she’ll be when pushed to the end of her tether. If that happens, she’s a liability. You want to be able to trust her again. For that, she needs to be watched. After what she’s been through, she won’t trust anyone but Hector or me. We’re the only two she’s seen most of.”

  “She saw me,” Santiago interjects, cockily.

  “Yeah, she saw you so you could offer her more heroin,” I sneer and from Joaquín’s reaction he didn’t know. “I’m guessing you weren’t aware?”

  “No,” Joaquín grouses, looking at his son with a death glare. “I wasn’t aware at all.”

  “She seemed fine,” Santiago acknowledges without care.

  “She even mutilated herself,” I state, loving that I’m dropping Santiago further and further into trouble.

  “Mutilated herself how?” Joaquín asks, fear igniting in her eyes.

  “She took a pair of scissors to the burn on her thigh and gauged it out along with Santiago’s name.” While the memory strikes me, I remain emotionally blank on the outside. “I found her on the bathroom floor covered in her own fucking blood and you have the decency to say she seemed fine?”

  “You’re being overdramatic,” Santiago disregards.

  I laugh, rubbing my jaw at the incredulous bullshit attitude Santiago exhibits. His actions are that of a monster, but like all psychopaths, he doesn’t see any error in the way he behaves or the pain he inflicts.

  “You’re a cunt for what you did to her,” I don’t hold back, not prepared to bite my tongue over this. “She may have done wrong, but no human being deserved to be forced heroin when they have no tolerance for the drug!”

  “It was a three-day addiction...” Santiago answers, waving me off. “The puta should be over it by now. I’ve taken more drugs than she could ever even know about it and I’m fine.”

  I laugh again, this time out of exasperation.

  “You just don’t get it do you?” I ask, more rhetoric than anything. “You can’t even for one second realize how addiction works. She got lucky all this time being forced drugs and never getting totally hooked, but in her head, she always thought about it, always wanted a little bit of that high. What you subjected her to opened up a whole new world of hell! She won’t just get over this. She fucking begged for more, that isn’t something she’ll ever be able to let go of,” I can hear my anger peeking, my chest heaving on heavy, dense breaths. “She’ll live the rest of her life with that little voice niggling in the back of her head waiting for the right opportunity to claw her straight back!” I take a step forward but tell myself not to attack, it’ll do no good. “You left a permanent scar on her in more than just physical ways!”

  It sickens me when I realize that Santiago looks pleased that he’s done this to her. The smugness is one that further embeds my anger toward everyone who abides by this father and son duo. They enable them to abuse and expend girls how they please. They push them to their limits and when they’re all used up they cast them aside.

  Isla seems like the only girl who refuses to fully break. Even at her weakest, she doesn’t relinquish her full fight. Instead, she holds on tighter to that one morsel she has left in the vain hope she’ll be able to pull herself back up and out of the darkness.

  “The puta deserves it,” Santiago antagonizes. “No one gets away with unnecessary murder here... especially if they frame someone else! I reckon she only killed Gabi so she could have the top spot. She was always in her shadow, maybe one day she just flipped and wanted the attention Gabi got.”

  “Leave!” Joaquín roars, breaking his son’s hell-bent summation. “So help me God, Santiago, leave right now!”

  Santiago stares down at him in shock, unable to comprehend this turn of events.

  “You can’t be serious...”

  “Leave!” He repeats, his voice becoming taut. “Now...” he grinds out, his jaws locking with visible tension.

  Santiago releases a huff but does as he’s told – like a good fucking child.

  “Don’t believe him,” Joaquín exhales once Santiago leaves us. “Isla isn’t that vindictive. She couldn’t be even if she tried.”

  “I didn’t think she could be,” I trail off, proud that nothing Santiago said about Isla has dampened the way I look at her.

  “Before Isla, I never let a girl affect me, but something about Isla’s innocence was refreshing. Like you, I couldn’t be vicious with her like I could any other girl. It wasn’t possible,” he rests his head on his closed fist as he gets a distant glimmer in his eyes. “I grew a softer spot for Isla once Gabi was dead. It was almost like she wasn’t hidden by that girl’s shadow. I saw why Gabi and Isla worked so well. Isla was the backbone. She told the girls that they had to accept whatever we did. That said, it took away the thrill from the men when the girls didn’t fight back. She was the one that kept the girls alive,” he smiles, reminiscing over all Isla’s done and probably thinking about all she will do. “But she lived in the shadows only because she was the silent partner. She did the hard graft, but Gabi reaped rewards. But never once would I call her spiteful for it. When Gabi died, Isla barely spoke, barely ate. She grieved so horribly and then one day she came to me, literally came to me... I allowed her to stay in my bed with me after she pleased me for hours and she promised to be the best. If not for herself, but for Gabi too...”

  My heart cracks involuntarily, not only because I’m listening to how my sister passed, but because now I’m hearing how Isla handled the aftermath with Gabi not there. Isla forced herself to feel the pain in more ways than one. She tied herself to Joaquín and strived to be the best for so many reasons, but the origin of that fight is so heart-breaking, I don’t know how she’ll ever be free of it.

  “Now I understand the circumstance to Gabi’s death and I applaud her bravery to kill someone she lived side by side with and trusted to fix her when we broke her. Killing Gabi was like losing her right arm,” he continues, only pausing to smile wistfully. “It’s why I made her Eighteen. She beguiled me when I finally fully noticed her. She was heads above all the girls, protector, mother, whatever you want to call her. She was strong and suddenly forthright. Almost like she was filling in the void for Gabi... I guess we know why she fought for that.”

  “So she came to you?” I ask, walking over to take a seat a few feet away from him
. “When Gabi died, what did you want from Isla? What’s your end game?”

  “I wanted her by my feet,” he states, giving me a smile. “And even now I’ve had that, I want her back... but apparently you want her, too.”

  “Damn straight,” I state, forthright and assertive. “I’d kill for her, Joaquín. I’d do anything to make sure she went on a run and made it back every single time. I want more than anything to get her out of the hole your son has thrown her into. All the time she’s there, all the time she’s sinking, she’ll be a liability,” I watch him, studying his features for a second before I decide to add my final statement. “And I would make sure she knew who owned her... every single night.”

  “Ah!” Joaquín starts, laughing at my dominance. “Every man here would love a girl for themselves.”

  “Then allow them that,” I offer him the game changer. “Stop blurring the lines, stop passing girls around and let them be owned. Fuck, the sense of power you’d give them for that would be immeasurable... both your men and your girls would thrive. You’d gain loyalty to a degree from it.”

  “How?”

  “They wouldn’t be such a pawn, they’d have one guy to please, one man to fuck and keep happy. They wouldn’t panic and live in as much fear about who’s turn was next.”

  Really, I’m using my greed to fuel this moment. I don’t want any of these girls owned and dominated by the men that roam this compound. I want them free, like Isla, to resume life and recover, but a part of me says that living with one man to please would be better than a whole horde of them.

  “I’ve seen the way the guards look at the girls when we sat at that border control,” I muse, commenting on this for one reason – effect. “They’re pale, gaunt, malnourished and wearing every physical scar their rapes inflict. One day, we’re going to get a more curious officer and he’s going to want to know more. If they’re only with one man, well, they’ll have a chance to breathe. It’ll give them some self-respect back. They may even be more willing. Perhaps even flourish. You break their spirits entirely and they become volatile.”

  Joaquín’s face becomes swathed in thought as a gauntlet of emotions play with his aging features. I don’t leave him to his thoughts. Instead, I push on.

  “I think it’s time you closed ranks and made this cartel stronger. The El Salvador was never sloppy, don’t start now by becoming sex mad. It’s time to go back to basics. The girls were always rewards, not a gluttonous treat every fucking day of the week. This used to be a business. The El Salvador used to be an empire, a fucking fortress with an army.”

  “How do you know that?” Joaquín asks, sitting taller in his seat.

  “My grandfather used to run with your father,” I say, watching him carefully. “Miguel Santos...”

  “Fuck no...” Joaquín disputes. “He was notorious for sticking by my grandfather during turf wars and raids.”

  “And I’m willing to do the same for you Joaquín...”

  “For one small price?” Joaquín asks, his jaw twitching with anticipation. “And Isla’s it I’m guessing?”

  “Yes, sir,” I allege, confidence exuding. “I’ve proven I can fight a fair game and come out triumphant. I’ve shown I’m not scared of a little bloodshed, and I’m certainly a cut above the rest with my medical training. She’s all I want and I’ll work twice as hard with her by my side.”

  In reality, Miguel Santos was a psychopath shot dead by cops and bore the brunt of every El Salvador felony listed. When I found out about where Gabi could be, I looked up this cartel, I did my research, I pieced my story together and I made sure I was fucking believable when I told it.

  I was not, and never will, be related to Miguel Santos apart from that we both had a place in the El Salvador. Other than that, I’m pledging myself further on the cusp of a lie.

  No one needs to know the truth apart from a few.

  The only pieces I keep to myself are about my Gabi’s connection with me and why I lost it all back home – those are secrets only Isla will know the truth of.

  “Walk with me,” he says, standing from his perch on his throne.

  I listen, turning so I can walk at his side. We cross the large blank room, leaving his throne behind us as we make for the exit and onto the courtyard where I first started my life here.

  “The story of the El Salvador is a very simple one,” he comments as we walk toward the large gates that lead to the cliff edge, overlooking the valley. “My grandfather only started the El Salvador because as a farmer money was tight. He heard about the money that dealing could make a man, so he decided he would try his hand at it,” he laughs at the memory. “He grew one marijuana plant so potent, people wanted more, he got a name from one try. They said it was something to do with the fertilizer he used, others say it was the soil. Whatever he did, it worked. He did it all so well my grandmother never even knew about it.”

  I laugh, playing an eager listener.

  “Now, we haven’t all had that success since. We saw that with Eighteen’s reaction that drug Santiago and you fed her, but we have had our fair share of success of drug manufacturing schemes. Our heroin is the most sought after... it’s why we do the runs. I trust no one with my gear other than my girls. They come here, stolen from their lives and have a new purpose,” he releases a heavy sigh, one that I know has risen from the depth of his soul. “But Santiago threatens it all.”

  I can hear the disappointment ooze from him.

  “Why is that?” I ask, always wondering how a man like Joaquín still offers flashes of a conscience, but Santiago suffers to no such reaction.

  “Santiago’s mother died giving birth to him, so all he’s known is the coldness of this world. Unlike myself and my father, he never knew that warmth of a mother and it’s turned him into the harsh man we see. He knows no difference.”

  I watch my boss and I see the scars of that moment in time have never left him. I have a sudden realization that this man can put a front of, be a tireless leader, but he is still affected by matters of the heart and that is because the love of his life left him behind.

  “The girls I keep in my bed will never fill a void, but they make the nights less lonely,” he pauses, looking off into the horizon before us with abject pain. “Maria would be so disappointed in how I spiraled in this life. I very nearly quit it all for her, cut my losses and run, but she went into labor and I was left with a son and no wife or mother.”

  “Grief does make us a shell of ourselves,” I comment, speaking from the heart.

  “You know it well?” he asks, I nod and he places a sympathetic hand on my shoulder.

  “It’s time you made this what it was meant for...” I say, turning away from the view to face him. “I know your wife probably wanted you free of it, but you can’t free yourself of something you’re so bound to. You have to finish this, Joaquín. Make it what it was your grandfather wanted, not what Santiago is pushing for it to become.”

  “You speak more sense than my son will ever be able to,” Joaquín begins, offering a smile of such sincerity. “My grandfather wanted an empire, a place where the world dropped at his feet and from one plant he got that. Greed did get the better of him and he lost my grandmother because of it, but the power was enough for him. He let her go free because what he was creating was a name that people would remember and cower to. Now, you have to be aware that I wanted to continue that legacy,” he pauses, giving me a stern look and I sense that he’s questioning entrusting me with these family memories, but his face softens and he continues. “I worked on a formula for heroin that doubled its potency in just one bag. Santiago wanted to join the Salvador legacy by making his own, but I fear what he’s made could well end everything.”

  “It will,” I state dryly. “He needs to realize you are still in charge. He’s setting an example that everyone can undercut you. You need to pull rank once more, Joaquín.”

  “You know what you are Santos?” He asks, a crooked grin pushes at his lips, bunching up h
is scarred cheeks. “You’re fucking good for a king. Men like you keep me grounded. You keep your head out of the clouds, don’t involve yourself with the pay-check. Now, I know you want a little ass, but I can see you want to succeed.”

  “I do...” I tell him, earnest projects my voice. “My grandfather had a part in the El Salvador, I would hate to see that go to hell.”

  “Even after how he died?”

  “Even after how he died,” I counter, not running from this.

  “Good,” he replies and I see my lies create a whirlwind of refreshed emotion. “Now if you are the grandson of Miguel, I’ve waited for the day I could shake hands with an absolute legend in our history,” he takes my hand, preparing for a hand-shake. “I’ll give you Isla, but if I see no change in her, you lose the right. If I see her become something I never imagined, the men can choose a girl to keep them satisfied. If the system fails, we go back to how we were.”

  “I promise you it won’t end,” I tell him, smirking, shaking his hand as if to seal the deal. “Trust me, Joaquín, this won’t fail.”

  “See to it that it doesn’t,” he jests, releasing my hand. “She’s yours.”

  We struck a deal and I wasn’t prepared to hang around so he could decide against it. The moment he releases my hand, I say my goodbyes and I’m crossing the space between the valley and the house. I know I’ve just made a deal with the devil, but with the best intentions. I may have bloodier hands for this, a dirtied conscience, but I’ll have the girl who’s made me breathe again by my side.

  Walking back to the room, I can’t wait to divulge this new turn of events. I know this will help bring Isla back to me. This will make her want to resume a steady existence because she knows she won’t be a play thing any longer. I hear a soft mumble of words being exchanged, but it’s Isla’s voice that has me stopping a few feet from the doorway to my room.

  “He’s been here for me,” I hear Isla admit. “And I’m scared to admit that I would never have made it through these past few days had anyone else been here with me,” there’s a slight sprinkling of sadness in her voice, but it’s not quite the ebb it has been of late. “I never expected to be cared for again. Well, not while I’m here anyway.”