by Claire Adams
The hair on the back of my neck stood up and panic clawed at my throat. How did Miguel find me already? Was I being followed? I kept walking slowly toward him, but glanced around quickly as I did. That was when I saw the transportation officer to my left. I suddenly veered toward him. The big man realized what I was doing then and tried to intercept me. Before he had the chance, I was right next to the officer, almost touching him.
“Sir, can you help me?”
“Of course, Miss. What can I do for you?”
“I might be paranoid, but I’ve left my abusive husband and I’m a little concerned that I was followed. Would you mind walking me out to hail a cab?”
“Not at all. Do you want me to alert the New Orleans P.D.?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. Once I’m in a cab, I’ll be fine. I’m staying with family.” I glanced over my shoulder and saw the big guy about five feet away. He was on the phone.
“Right this way,” the transportation officer said. I followed him and the big guy headed for the other exit, still on the phone. As soon as we got outside, the officer loaded me in a cab that was already waiting. I thanked him and as the taxi pulled out of the lot, I saw the big guy scrambling to get to his car. I smiled and waved at him and then I asked the cab driver to take me as far as he was legally able. I ended up in a No-Tell Motel in Gulfport, Mississippi.
I had felt proud of myself for being so covert. When I got to the motel I found a bank of payphones outside of the lobby. I’d thrown my own phone away before I left. I was afraid Miguel could use it to track me. I knew that I shouldn’t call anyone, but I had to warn Lynn about Miguel.
I called the studio first and as I had waited for her to answer, I looked around at the weeds growing through the cracks in the concrete. Litter from take-out restaurants was strewn across the broken pavement and the wood stairs in front of the building looked like they were about to collapse. It was a place that I was sure Miguel would never think of. Lynn didn’t answer at the gallery so I hung up and called her cell phone. I told myself I’d only stay on the phone for a few seconds in case Miguel was tracking her incoming calls.
“Hello?” Lynn’s voice sounded thick, like she’d been crying. My heart hurt as soon as I heard it. I owed her so much and this was how I repaid her.
“I’m sorry, Lynn. I’m sorry I left without saying good-bye.”
“Princess! Where are you? I’ve been so worried. Nicholas said you got on a bus to Louisiana, but by the time he got there, you were gone.”
“Nicholas followed me to Louisiana?” Was that who the man at the station had been working for? I’d just assumed he was one of Miguel’s men.
“I think his security team did. Nick flew out there.”
It had taken me two days to get to Louisiana by bus. “If Nicholas flew out, why wasn’t he at the station when I got off?” It didn’t make sense he’d come all the way out here and then send someone else to intercept me. I felt a tingling in my spine and suddenly felt sick to my stomach. What if that man had been Miguel’s and they’d already intercepted Nicholas? What if I left only to get him hurt after all?
“I have no idea,” Lynn said. “He hasn’t been answering his phone. Miguel left too, Emma. Is he there with you?” Her voice sounded almost accusing, like I’d lured her man away.
“I don’t know. I didn’t see him. I saw a man at the bus station that I thought was following me, but it wasn’t Nicholas or Miguel. Dear God… I hope Miguel hasn’t done something to him.” My heart was suddenly racing and I felt a trickle of sweat run down the side of my face.
“Princess, I think you’re letting your paranoia lead the way here.”
“It’s not paranoia, Lynn. Please listen to me: Miguel is a bad man, and I’m afraid if you don’t heed my warning, you’re going to see that firsthand. Please, keep trying to get in touch with Nicholas. If you can’t, then notify the police, please Lynn.”
“I think you’re overreacting.” Her words said one thing but her tone said something else. She sounded like she was at least beginning to consider that someone was in danger here, she just wasn’t sure who to believe.
“Listen Lynn, you know me. You’ve known me since I was a kid. You know how much I love and respect you. I’d never lie to you. You don’t know Miguel and his family’s reputation. Honey, you and Nicholas could be in danger. Call the police now and have them make sure Nicholas is okay please!”
“Okay,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll call them. I’m frightened Princess. I don’t know who to trust.”
“I know Lynn. I’m so sorry I got you involved in all of this. I love you and I will never forget everything you did for me. I have to go now though.”
“Princess, wait—”
“Bye, Lynn.”
I was sick. My hands were shaking and I felt like I was going to throw up. What should I do? Should I call Nicholas? What good would that do? Damn it! I’d left to protect him and now I was not so sure that was the right thing to do.
I walked back to my room, distracted with all of that running through my brain. I was sliding the key card into the slot in the door when I heard and felt his voice. It was Miguel and he was right behind me. A jolt of adrenaline surged through my body as he said, “Hello, Ariana.”
I spun around with the intentions of kicking him, but as I did, he took hold of the handle on the door that was already showing a green light and pushed it open. He pushed me hard and I fell back into the room on my back, striking my head against the hard floor. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The world was spinning and I fought to stay conscious and alert. Miguel stood looking down at me, silently, for a long time. Finally, he said, “Surprised to see me?”
“Where is Nicholas?”
He scowled. “On his way back to the desert where he belongs.”
“Please tell me you didn’t hurt him.”
His look grew even darker. “He took what was mine, and he’ll have to pay for that.”
Before I could say another word, he reached down and grabbed a handful of my hair. It was his favorite grip. He picked me up by it and threw me on the dingy bedspread on the tiny, little bed. “I told you once, I was never leaving you alone. You’re mine Ariana.” He began unbuckling his belt.
“I’m not yours. I’ll never be yours.” He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.
“I’m about to make you mine, for life.”
“Miguel, you need to stop. I’ll scream; you’ll be arrested.” He dropped his pants and pushed down his underwear. He was already hard and I knew that there was nothing I could do to stop him from what he was about to do.
I wasn’t going without a fight, however. I opened my mouth to scream, but before the sound got out, a big hand covered my mouth and part of my nose, making it hard to breathe. He was on top of me and he leaned down to put his mouth right up against my ear as he said,
“If you scream, I will stuff something in your throat before I fuck you. You won’t be able to breathe and you could very well die. Is that what you want, Ariana? Because I’m going to have you today whether it kills you. If you’re still alive when we finish, I will take you back home today and we will get married and start our family. Do you understand that?”
I managed to get one of my legs free just enough to bend my knee and use it to hit him in the ribs, hard.
“Bitch!” he yelled. He let go of my mouth and drew his hand back to slap me. I started screaming as soon as my mouth was uncovered. That got me rewarded with another hard slap that caused my head to bounce up and then down. Fuzzy pink dots swam in the circumference of my vision, but God didn’t bless me with blacking out completely.
I was awake when he “took” me and when he beat me again for not being a virgin. I was barely conscious when his men loaded me first into his big, black car and then onto his private jet. It must have cost him a ton of money to get a beaten and barely conscious woman on a plane. In another situation, a woman might be flattered that a man wanted her that badly. But
even if he hadn’t just raped and beaten me, I would have known that with Miguel it was all about power and control.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EMMA
I don’t know how long it took me to heal completely. It felt like months that I was left alone in a room and I only saw either Miguel or one of the medical or security staff. I couldn’t, of course, go easily either. I couldn’t control my mouth and more than once I threatened to go to my father and tell him what Miguel had done to me. I knew that if we were back at home he couldn’t keep me hidden forever, at least not if being part of the royal family was what he really wanted. My threats didn’t seem to scare him however. I think he was just too out of his mind with the need for control to realize what the consequences of his actions might be. He kept telling me that he didn’t care if I told my father. My father wouldn’t care. He told me my family had paid him to bring me home at whatever cost and all they cared about was appearances. He said they gave him free reign to do whatever it took to ensure that the heir to the throne act like the queen she would become someday.
Miguel reminded me that my father believed women should submit to their husbands, and I knew he was right about that. I’d never seen him raise a hand to my mother, but I’d heard him use low, threatening tones with her and I’d seen the fear in her eyes at times. After hearing it all day in and day out, I started to believe Miguel was right and that they wouldn’t care.
One day, about seven weeks after he’d brought me back he announced that I was to get cleaned up and dressed. We were going to see my parents. I didn’t argue with him. I still held onto a thread of hope that they would be willing to help me, albeit a thin one.
When we arrived at the estate, I was greeted warmly by the staff. The housemaid took Miguel and I into the parlor where my parents, my sister, and my brother were waiting. As formal as ever, my mother stood and air-kissed my cheeks. My father at least embraced me, although briefly. He held me back then by the shoulders and said,
“Why Ariana? Why would you leave like that? You had us so worried.”
I glanced sideways at Miguel and wondered how much I’d be able to get away with here. Finally, I said, “I was unhappy father. I didn’t want to be married to a man I hardly knew.” Miguel had his hand on my arm and I felt his grip tighten. My father looked at Miguel and then back at me. My mother and siblings sat quietly as he said,
“If it wasn’t for this man you didn’t want to marry, you’d still be living in a hovel in that city of sin and practically starving. Look at how thin and wan you are.”
“Father I wasn’t living in a hovel, nor was I starving.”
“We saw photos,” my mother said. I looked at her, confused. “Miguel sent us pictures of that place you were in. There was trash on the sidewalk and weeds growing up through the cement. The inside was appalling as well. We saw photos of you there in that dirty bed.” Miguel had sent them pictures from the hotel in New Orleans. They believed every word he told them. No matter how hard I tried to convince them he’d kidnapped me, they stuck with their belief that he’d rescued me instead.
According to him, I’d been living in a hovel and practically starving before he “rescued” me. My father bought it all and I was in for a long lecture from him and my mother both about protocols, safety, and etiquette.
Then my father hugged me and my mother air-kissed me and everyone started talking about the wedding. Miguel and I were married one month to the day after my fake return home, so at that time I’d been home for nearly three months.
Miguel had bought us a villa in the countryside. It was huge, with 10 bedrooms, 8 bathrooms, two swimming pools, and a five-car garage. It sat on 10 acres and there were stables in the back. The horses were beautiful, and I spent a lot of long days while I was healing just brushing and talking to them.
I didn’t have anyone else to talk to. Miguel had taken every possible avenue of communication out of the house and he also had a team of security watching me around the clock. He didn’t let up even after we were married – if anything, he became more hyper-vigilant in making sure I didn’t escape.
I was anxious and depressed all the time and losing weight at a rapid pace. I always felt sick, never hungry, and I threw up every morning. When my parents and siblings were around, or his parents, Miguel treated me like the princess I was, but behind closed doors, he was a demon.
I came to accept that my only escape would be death and I started to pray for it. The day came when I could no longer wait for God to take the lead. Miguel had beaten me with a belt the night before. The next day, I’d gone to the stables, barely able to walk but determined to get to the one place on the property where I felt comfortable. While I was there, I found enough rope to fashion myself a makeshift noose and carefully climbed up to the loft where the hay was stored. I tied it to one of the rafters. I held onto it, but said another prayer before slipping it on.
Being Catholic, I worried that taking my own life would send me straight into the depths of hell. But then again, I was truly already there. I think that was where God or maybe fate had stepped in and intervened. Before I could go through with using the noose, I collapsed. Security found me unconscious in the loft.
I was taken back to the house and Miguel called his private physician, the one who sometimes treated the wounds Miguel gave me. He was paid too handsomely to care. I came to before the doctor got there, with a headache and sick to my stomach. The doctor took blood and urine samples and checked my hemoglobin levels with a finger stick. I heard him assuring Miguel that my passing out was probably due to stress and the fact that I was underweight.
Miguel didn’t leave me alone at all that day or night. I was woken up the next morning to the sound of his phone ringing. It was the doctor calling to tell him what was wrong with me. That phone call would take away my last avenue of escape. I was willing to take my own life. I was willing to risk eternal damnation. What I wasn’t willing to do was take the life of the child growing inside of me, too.
Even if he was Miguel’s spawn, I was his mother and he needed me. I had an obligation to protect him from harm the second I knew about him. I fell in love with him while he was still in my womb and afterwards, he was all I lived for.
The scandal of me running away was still haunting my family, according to Miguel. The scandal of me being pregnant out of wedlock was going to be the likes of nothing they’d ever seen.
That was when Miguel started devising a plan and he went to my parents with a proposition. My parents had sheltered us all from the press our entire lives. The only photos of us were private family photos that people like Lynn won contracts to take. The photographers at things like our birthday parties and quinceañeras had to sign a confidentiality agreement, agree to a search coming in and out of the palace estate, and only use the camera and equipment provided to them.
My father always said it was precautionary against kidnappings. When I ran away, it worked to my advantage. No one knew what I looked like.
Miguel suggested that because of my recent travels, I could have made any number of enemies and they had me lay low for a while. He suggested we should use Elena for photos of me now. I was shocked when they agreed to it, but I guess I shouldn’t have been since all they cared about was saving face. Elena and I looked enough alike that they figured by the time she came of age and married, no one would notice she was the same woman in the photos with Miguel.
It all made me crazy and I hated it. I didn’t understand what was so wrong with simply living a normal life.
Six months after Miguel and I married, my baby boy was born. Miguel was already on top of that, as well. He made sure that the hospital reported that the child was premature. Since I was so unhealthy during the first part of my pregnancy, the baby was only five pounds when he was born, so if anyone really looked into it, it was believable.
I promised my sweet boy the first time I held him in my arms that I’d do everything I needed to do to keep him safe, always. He needed me. For the
first time in my life, someone needed me.
My days from then on out with my child were precious and brought me nothing but joy, but my nights with Miguel were mostly torture and he threatened at times to kill me. I tolerated it. I kept my mouth shut and I didn’t try to run…for the sake of my son.
Miguel promised me that he’d never let me leave with Gabriel and I believed him. No judge would grant him custody if we went to court and he knew that…but we both knew he wasn’t talking about doing things legally. Living with him for those six months, I’d seen and heard enough to convince me that “legally” was not even in his vocabulary unless it benefitted him somehow. He did enjoy “legally” being a part of the royal family and the father of the royal heir to the throne.
I tolerated it all until one day when my baby Gabriel was two years old and Miguel raised his hand to him for the first time. As the back of his big hand made contact with my precious boy, I picked up a vase off the table and threw it at Miguel’s head.
While he was still stunned, I picked up Gabriel and ran. I made it as far as the front door before the baby was snatched from my arms by one of Miguel’s men. Then, as if I was caught up in a nightmare, I was told to keep running. When I refused to leave without my son, the security man took out a gun and held it to Gabriel’s little head. I wanted to kill him, but I did everything he told me because I couldn’t risk losing my son. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to breathe without him.
Aware of the man with Gabriel moving in the other direction, I ran and ran and ran until Miguel caught up with me. It was a game to him. He jerked my hair and I fell hard to the ground, and that was how I found myself looking up into the dark eyes of the devil once again. He loomed over me and whispered nasty, hateful things.
I didn’t care what he was saying, all I wanted to know was where he had taken my son…my beautiful little boy with the bright, blue eyes.
I pulled my eyes open again. Miguel smiled at me. God, I’d come to hate that smile. I closed my eyes again and hoped that if I pretended to be in and out of consciousness that he’d leave me alone, at least for a little while. Maybe I wasn’t completely conscious because my mind kept going back to the beginnings of this nightmare.