Ayla: Already tired of cursing him in vain, I decided to be quiet. After all, it wouldn't do any good to speak.
After a while, we arrived at a house away from the city, and so the sober man gets off and opens the door for me to get off. Even against my will, I get off.
I enter a somewhat rustic house and by the style of the place I can safely say that we are not in Las Vegas. So I go in and so does he, and a bunch of men in black stay outside, as if they were watching.
Oh my God, seriously, this must be the devil and the third part of the angels that fell with him, mercy.
As soon as I enter I observe everything and the furniture and the environment are very sophisticated and very beautiful, so I get out of my curiosity and I say:
Now you can explain to me all this clowning you did, breaking into the convent armed, do you have any idea that they will expel me from there?
El Corte: It's better for you to be expelled, believe me!
Ayla: You're an idiot, aren't you? This is my dream, everything I've ever wanted!
I see his hands clench into fists, the veins in his neck bulge, and then he says to me:
El Cortez: Do you know what they were going to do to you? You know?
Ayla: I'm going to Germany to do missions, and save obscure people like you!
El Cortez: Oh, go on, go thinking that's it!
Ayla: You don't know anything, you're crazy, it must be the inclination of evil, wanting to make me stop.
He approaches me, but he gets very close, making me think about the wall, his eyes are as dark as night, and I get goosebumps, and this time it's not from strange fire, but from fear.
Then he speaks to me, looking deep into my eyes.
El Cortez: This convent is a front, for trafficking women, you know what you were going to do, you would be forced to have sex with several and several men, and a young virgin girl like you is worth a fortune to these disgusting men.
Ayla: My heart aches with what he tells me, this can't be true, I refuse to believe it.
So I take in all the air I can and say: I don't believe you, and if all this is true, why do you care about me?
Wasn't it you who told me to go to a prostitute?
So why are you caring now, if I'm really going to one, don't you think I'm like these women of the night?
That's what you said.
I say this in tears, sobbing, because no one has ever said anything to hurt me as much as the words he spat in my face that day, they hurt my heart and even praying three hundred rosaries to get rid of this magic it was still very much alive inside of me.
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