Episode 13

...BELEN CLINT...

The traces of the once affectionate fiance who seemed to love me were diminishing, and his dark, malevolent aspect now consumed his entire personality as he sought ways to humiliate me.

He vanished for two days, and peace suffused me, yet escape was not an option; I was thoroughly confined, lacking both keys and savings.

Through the window, I observed his return, escorted by a patrol car. Another officer parked his car, and enthusiastically conversed with them after a money exchange.

“How is this possible? Why is he bribing them? What connections does he possess, and what secrets does he harbor?” I wondered.

Strange occurrences led me to suspect his involvement in illegal activities or perhaps drug trafficking. Whatever the case, the police were on his payroll, rendering my chances of reporting his myriad abuses evermore slim and improbable.

Serious trouble surrounded me, and the situation seemed to grow more perplexing with every passing day.

I noticed his calm demeanor as he entered the house, but soon enough, he altered his behavior, exploding without warning, assaulting and verbally berating me, and I was at a loss to understand the abrupt shift.

My boyfriend’s conduct grew increasingly worse and erratic; his temper would shift without apparent cause. Aware that he was a psychopath, I knew I had to flee or face dire consequences. Escape was imperative, yet devising the means was a challenge; without keys, and barred windows beyond use, my plight was exacerbated by the indifference of neighbors who would not heed my cries for help.

Were my neighbors deaf to my plight, or were they too under his influence or threat? By now, nothing could surprise me.

(.....)

Another night passed, with him arriving inebriated, venting his wrath upon me, his reasons a mystery. This time, I barely managed to move; I might have lost consciousness briefly. Upon regaining my senses, my body was cloaked in bruises, throbbing with pain, and I lay naked, uncertain of what further atrocities might befall me.

His methods of torture, of striking and demeaning me, found new creativity daily. The hardship mounted, and my comprehension waned as to how my situation could possibly worsen. Yet, my desire to flee was fervent, though the means eluded me – without money; I had to locate the savings I knew he kept hidden, seize any moment of carelessness when he might leave the door unlocked, and escape without a backward glance, as far from him as I could manage.

I began my cautious search for the money, careful not to disturb anything that might arouse his suspicion and provoke another beating for seemingly stealing from him.

At last, I discovered an envelope within the mattress, its presence revealed as I lifted the corner to change the sheets. It contained roughly the sum I had hoped.

Despite the lingering bruises, the glimmer of hope for eventual escape buoyed my spirits, now bolstered by some dollars in hand.

(......)

His aunt came over for a meal. Only my face was fit to be shown. Sympathy shaded her gaze once more. We ventured to the kitchen for dessert, and she seized the moment to 'teach' me a recipe.

“I can't extricate you from this situation, but when you manage to escape, you must take this,” she whispered, slipping money into my shoe.

“Then you whip the cream to this consistency – that's crucial, do you understand?” she instructed aloud.

“I understand; I hope it turns out as delicious when I attempt it,” I smiled, expressing my gratitude for her assistance.

“You must seize the right opportunity to flee. A trustworthy woman will aid you, find you a job – you'll need to travel several cities by train. I’m certain my nephew won't search this way; he'll look elsewhere,” she murmured.

“For my part, I like to garnish with cherries, but you’re free to decorate with whatever you prefer – chocolate, strawberries, whatever you wish,” she announced loudly.

“That's how I like it – it looks lovely and surely tastes divine,” I responded, smiling once more.

“Here's her number, keep it safe,” she said, handing me a small piece of paper.

As we rejoined the table, our conversation was lively. She was at ease, and I mimicked her demeanor as naturally as I could.

Upon her departure, he drove her away, granting me the moment to secure all she had provided where he wouldn’t think to look or check; the paper nestled within a sanitary napkin packet, and the money stashed within a pair of socks.