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The buzzing of the light bulb reminded Natasha of catching lightning bugs and crickets in the summer. The grimy bathroom provided almost no light for her to get a good look at the damage to her face. Her head throbbed, and her stomach bubbled with each step she took.
In front of the sink, Natasha peered in the mirror at her swollen, tender, black and blue face. Both of her eyes were engorged while oozing clear fluid. Her top lip appeared to be split. She couldn’t name all the colors dotting her face.
The room was spinning.
She gripped the sink, praying the dizziness would pass. The cold porcelain felt like heaven in her hands.
Then the room tilted, her knees buckled and throbbed.
For a moment, Natasha thought she was back home in her room. She could almost smell the bacon and eggs in her mother’s kitchen.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to center herself, but the stench of rotting fruit, musk and mildew sucked her back into reality. She thought she was dreaming. For one minute, she thought that it was all a terrible nightmare—one from which she had awakened.
The sliding of the lock on the door broke the eerie silence. She stood where she was in the bathroom, unable to move as the door swung open.
A tall, thin man and the short, balding man entered. “Oh my God.”
Her vision blurred causing the men to take on cartoon-like character appearances.
“Come here.” The man ordered.
“Why?” she asked, afraid of the answer.
“Come here.” He beckoned to her. “Hurry up. He’s waiting for you.”
The short, fat, balding man took a seat on the small chair. The stethoscope around his neck dangled. “Oh My God.” He said the words slowly as if in disbelief of what he was seeing.
Afraid, Natasha didn’t want to leave the security of the doorway.
She heard her flimsy dress tear when the tall man reached out and snatched her into the middle of the room.
“Get your hands off me,” she hissed.
Natasha stiffened up on the men, terrified of what might happen next.
She almost turned when she heard the man laughing.
“Yeah, she’s stubborn all right.” He walked over and grabbed her face in his hands.
“Are you crazy?” The doctor asked, “Get your hands off her?” He took a deep breath. His hands began trembling; they didn’t know Juarez like he did.”
Natasha cringed. It felt like the liberty bell was ringing in her head. Warm moist heat from a cloth brought instant relief to her damaged face. She welcomed the opportunity to inhale sharply. She fought back the urge to press the hot rag deeper unto her face. The clear liquid from her eyes mixed readily with her tears.
“You’re going to call him and tell him she looks like this.” Being merciful, the man smoothed the cloth down further on her face. “Afterwards, he’s going to kill you.”
“I didn’t do it.” The tall man placed both hands in the air, palms up.
“Doesn’t matter. Somebody did, and somebody else didn’t stop it.”
Quivering chill bumps spread like wildfire across her arms and met at her spine. She was determined to remain still. Yolanda Adams singing something about being shattered, but not broken was playing in her head. God please, I want to go home. “Who is going to kill someone?”
After examining her, he looked over at the other man. “After he kills your men, he is going to kill you, that’s if he doesn’t make you watch.”
Before she could stop them, her words ran out of her mouth. She reached out and grabbed the man’s arm. “Please send me home. I won’t tell.” She gripped him tighter. “I promise.”
“I’m. I’m sorry....” His words drifted away.
“Get your hands off him.”
Her fingers stung as they were pried off his arm. The taller of the two men grabbed her by the back of her hair tightly. She heard it splintering and breaking.
“If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll kill you.” He pulled a silver-plated gun from his waistband and rubbed it against her face. “I. Will. Kill. You. He repeated it slowly. “Perhaps it’s not clear why you are here.”
He slung her from the floor back to the small cot. With one knee, he pressed his crushing weight into her chest. He eased one leg off the bed and onto the floor. “You’re a troublemaker. You’re not worth the time it took to drag you here.”
His weight shifted, she felt a bubble bee sting in her arm.
Natasha gasped as the drug began to take effect. She tried to grab the flimsy beige sheet as she attempted to pull herself higher on the bed.
Her head was spinning like a child on a merry-go-round. Her throat became dry and parched as the dizziness intensified.
Natasha lay flat on her back in the bed, throwing one arm over her eyes, desperately trying to conjure up images of home. Memories of a better time, days spent shopping with her mom and sister. She missed the mother/daughter manicures, pedicures, and getting their hair done. After Gina’s bout of bulimia and a suicide attempt, they promised to stick together. She even missed her overprotective big brother. Maybe it was Wilson she missed the most. Images and memories danced in her head as she shut her eyes, falling into a deep slumber.