Heroine Hearts: Darkness Made These Heroine Hearts Page 20

  “Gabi’s was more complicated,” I start, remembering how she cried night after night when we first got here. It was her tears that brought us together. I comforted her when no one else would. “She thought she was in love.”

  “I know,” Javier replies, shaking his head as the memories clearly assault. “His name was Charlie. I met him once.”

  “Right...” I say, wondering if he disapproved of Charlie for Charlie or if he knew the real man under his charming grin. “He was the man who went further afield for Joaquín. He apparently was one of those who lured girls in by making them fall in love. He liked messing with them that way. He used to say he loved the torture of romance. Joaquín still uses a few who do that, allowing them to get their kicks and then makes them get their girls for a short time here when they had free rein. There being no need for consenting here.”

  “I knew I should’ve scared him off when I had the chance,” Javier berates, grinding his teeth together.

  “She said that,” I reply softly. His head shoots up and I offer a small smile. “She knew you’d hate yourself for not stopping him, but she didn’t hate you for it. No one is at fault but Charlie and those bastards downstairs,” I know Javier wants to believe me, I can see it in his eyes. “She was dragged in by a man she thought she loved and she had to live every single day here with him, gloating and laughing at her.”

  “The bastard,” he growls, his fists clenching as his anger builds upon itself. “Where is here now?”

  “You’ll like this one,” I say, knowing I’m warped for smirking over this. “She killed him,” I reply, noticing his shock, I smirk. “You look horrified, but he was awful to her.”

  “She killed a man?” He rasps as if the air has been taken out of him.

  “She had to,” my statement is final and my tone thickens. “He wouldn’t let her leave his side.”

  “What did he do wrong?” He asks, a sense of knowing shows in his voice.

  “Fell asleep,” I say, causing him to grimace. “She played the game to survive then one night when he slept she pulled a knife and slit his throat.”

  “Was she punished for it?” he asks, worried to hear, but there’s a small glimmer of relief in his voice that Gabi got a least one piece of revenge in before her own demise. “Was she hurt?”

  “Of course,” I say, nodding. “She was beaten and thrown into isolation, but Joaquín saw her as a promise, so didn’t kill her.”

  “He called her Seventeen,” Javier muses, finally looking at me, his hands uncurling.

  “Ah,” I start, not shocked he’s found out. “You know then?”

  “Yeah, Joaquín told me himself,” he becomes silent for a moment, mulling over something and when he looks at me again, his eyes are now emblazoned. “This is the worse part of being here, not being able to let them know. I want to scream at them and force them to feel the pain of every single person they’ve ever harmed.”

  “Why don’t you?” I ask, not seeing how difficult that could be.

  “There’s a bigger game now. Justice needs to be perfect.”

  I become silent, wondering how much more perfect justice needs to be than ending Joaquín and Santiago’s lives. That to me would be a heaven-sent miracle.

  “Want to resume the game?” he asks, a lighter tone returning to his voice as he clearly takes note of my quietness. “It’s your turn.”

  I bite my lip, pondering if I should ask this question, but if I want total honesty, I have to be brave.

  “How did you lose your job?”

  Javier remains vacant, but his eyes struggle to hide some deep pain.

  “I lost a patient,” he admits, not looking away. “It was a few months after Gabi was gone and I was still drunk when I went to work. I knew it would trip me up sooner rather than later, but I enjoyed the company of alcohol,” a sad smile appears on his lips as he allows that crash of guilt to hit him. “She was only sixteen. I missed something so trivial and she died because I wasn’t competent enough to do my damn job right.”

  I reach out, placing a hand on his leg, allowing him to feel my comfort without being throttled with it.

  “I ended up being struck off for negligence and I wound up eating into both Gabi and my inheritance just to keep a roof over my head. I was no longer a good doctor for one mistake and I spiraled. The drinking got worse the longer Gabi was missing and the more the guilt ate away at me. I hit cocaine just to escape and then I got busy finding a link to where she was. One day I got lucky and found out she was last seen here.”

  “So this really was your last chance?”

  “One question gone,” he teases through a painful tone trying to recommence where we were. “This was my last chance,” he clarifies, not ashamed to admit it. “But I didn’t see the issue. I thought I could come here, find Gabi, get her out and we’d resume our life. I thought that once I had her back, everything would just somehow go back to how it was.”

  “But I ruined that,” I say, my eyes dipping as not to see how he looks at me.

  “You didn’t ruin that,” he states, his voice intensifying as he reaches out to lift my head up. “They ruined that. They stole the only thing in my life that kept me on the straight and narrow. They made her into something she wasn’t cut out to be. They ruined all of this.”

  I fall silent, looking at my hands as they start to wring together. There’s one question I can’t silence. It’s been there in the back of my mind since I can remember but only gotten louder the more my mind’s cleared.

  “Isla?” he calls to me. “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you hate me?” I blurt, causing him to look at me wide-eyed and horrified. “Like God’s honest truth... is there a part of you that resents being here? Do you hate yourself for opting for this route?”

  “That was several questions in one there,” he remarks, a crooked grin meets me.

  “I don’t care,” I say, moving closer to him. “Do you hate you’re here with me when you know what I did?”

  “No,” his reply is quick, spoken with an even tone and his eyes latch onto mine in earnest. “I don’t hate you. I don’t hate being in here with you. I just hate that we’re here, that we’re doing this. I hate that we were thrown together in this way because I would have given my everything to have met you elsewhere, Isla.”

  My breath falters, coming in tiny gasps as I allow those words to thaw some of the ice inside me.

  “That’s what I resent most; that darkness threw us together when that is the last thing I think of when I think of you.”

  I’m stunned to silence, unable to form a clear word. There are so many things I want to do at this moment, but a fickle voice in me is loud enough to make me stop. I haven’t been thrown into this type of conversation in so long I feel like my brain is short wiring.

  “There’s something I’m really curious of, though...”

  “Oh yeah?” I ask, more inquisitive than ever. Inwardly, I’m grateful for him taking this conversation elsewhere. “What’s that?”

  Javier looks nervous, for the first time since I met him.

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  “Yeah,” I admit easily, my cheeks flushing with a sweet blush. “Twice, in fact,” I correct myself and put my fingers up as if to add emphasis. “One time for certain was with Noah Mills. He swept me off my feet my first day of college... literally,” I feel my body sink into itself as I remember the love I had for him. “We were inseparable and it was his suggestion I join my sorority sisters in coming here for Spring Break. He wanted me to party and enjoy myself before coming back to him. He loved me without condition and was everything a girl could need,” I smile wistfully as my thoughts start to take another route. “He said we were forever, but I bet he’s gotten himself a new girl now...”

  “That makes you sad?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

  I shrug, sniffling. “No point crying over things I can’t change. Nothing ever lasts forever and after this place, I won’t believe i
t can. I’m not meant to have that life anymore. This is life.”

  “So, you never think of him?” Javier asks, and when I look at him, he’s full of raging envy, barely concealing it.

  If only he knew. There are days I dream of what my life could be – all those days when I was a college girl, a sorority sister, a loved girlfriend. I can’t forget about my past life and sometimes I enjoy the oblivion my memories offer. On that cusp of merging the lines between what’s real and what’s not, I enjoy losing all sanity and believing I’m back where I was truly happy.

  Now, I live each day losing a part of myself.

  I can’t hold myself together and I know I’ll never be able to go home the same girl I was.

  I’m lost, never to be found.

  “I do,” I admit, my voice meek and mild. “I think of him some days, but like everyone else, I try not to think at all. It just makes me miss my old life more. I don’t think about how my family are, or if they miss me, or if they lose sleep looking for me. I tell myself not to think of how they reacted in the wake of my disappearance and if they hurt as bad as me to live without them. Most days I don’t think at all.”

  “Most days you don’t even feel at all, Isla,” Javier admits, catching me by surprise. “You wear everything so evidently in your eyes most people wouldn’t even have a clue where to start at understanding you.”

  “But you do?”

  “I knew you the very day I met you,” he confesses. His eyes narrow on me as if to make a point that he knows me better than I think he does. “You weren’t scared of me, but you resisted me and I saw that look in your eyes, you wanted me to grant you mercy even when you begged me to take you. You let out the biggest sigh of relief as if you’d been holding it in waiting for me to arrive.”

  “I think I did,” I whisper, a small smile graces my lips.

  He returns the smile, but it doesn’t last. “Who was the second person you fell in love with?”

  “I think it’s you,” I say, perplexity masks my tone, not believing I really just said that. When I see his face fall, I know I’ve fucked up. “What about you?” I quickly ask, ushering my last comment away. I clear my throat, coughing against the unbearable lump forming. “Ever been in love?”

  “Me?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up as if in shock he’s been asked. I guess my earlier admittance stole away reality and left him in a surreal parallel universe. “Not sure what to call what I felt,” he admits, twisting his lips thoughtfully. “Since being here, I’ve felt a lot of things I’m not sure if I could trust.”

  Oh. My heart cramps as I think back to everything I’m feeling and realize that he’s not quite trusted his own feelings, so maybe I shouldn’t believe in mine.

  There’s a brief moment of awkwardness before he continues, “Now, can we try and get some sleep in? I’m exhausted.”

  I frown unwillingly but nod my head. I don’t know what to make of his comment, but my head wants to run wild with it, take every notion and never look back while my hopeless heart gets its every want.

  “Good idea,” I say, agreeing with him. “This conversation can wait.”

  Bloodshot eyes, pallor complexion, and chapped lips are not doing me much justice, right now.

  No wonder he still won’t let me out of this room – his room.

  I twist my arm out, noticing how the pinpricks are nonexistent against the harsh definition of my veins. Each green vein pops against my skin color and I’m quick to turn my arm away, pressing it against my body.

  I’m an absolute mess.

  “You okay?”

  “No,” I grumble, turning away from my god-awful complexion. “I need sunlight and some fresh air.”

  “Then stick your head out of the window,” he jests, winking at me as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. “Just a few more days. You’re still not sleeping properly and don’t think I haven’t noticed how you try to ignore the aches and the way your hands shake.”

  “Ever the observer,” I mutter, trying hard to get rid of this cranky attitude.

  “Look, you’re exhausted, Isla,” he states, giving me an all knowing look. “Once we get your sleep pattern back on track then we’re on the right path.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to get it back on,” I reply softly, diverting my eye contact for a moment.

  “Why?”

  I look at him, really look at him and see if he notices why I don’t want to leave. There are a million and one responses I could give him, but only a few really resonate the loudest.

  “Because maybe I like sitting awake with you at night when the calm sets in,” I confess, poorly admitting my pathetic truth. I laugh, running a hand through my hair in sheer exasperation. “I’ve left one dependency behind to gain another.”

  “Isla,” he starts.

  “Don’t,” I stop him, putting my hand up to him to tell him to stop. “I knew this wasn’t forever. Nothing ever is. I told you this last night but I just got used to having you to myself. I enjoyed this life stuck behind that door,” I admit, throwing my hand out to point toward the door. “Like everything else, this has to end.”

  “It doesn’t,” he argues, stepping closer.

  “Yes, it does,” I admonish, ignoring his claim. “Once we go back to them it all starts again. I have to go back to being a plaything for them,” I gulp, telling myself it’ll be fine. “I just cherished the peace you’ve brought to me.”

  In all its seriousness, I cherish Javier most for the mercy he offers. His soul isn’t patented black, etched with darkness and corrupted beyond salvation. He’s gentle even in his harshest moments. He could kill a thousand men and I would rather sleep beside him than any other man in this house.

  He granted me sanctity when I was falling faster and harder than ever.

  “We don’t have to stop whatever this is that’s developing between us,”

  “I won’t risk your life for the sake of my heart,” I tell him, being at my rawest. “I won’t have anyone else’s blood on my hands.”

  “That won’t happen,” he vows, grabbing my hands. “I won’t let you do this alone anymore.”

  “Good,” I whisper, my tears beginning. “Because I don’t know if I’m strong enough to survive it anymore,” I feebly speak, confessing my inner woes. “What Santiago did, it really did a number on me. I don’t know how to be strong anymore. I need you.”

  “Isla,” Javier starts with a tone so delicate it causes butterflies to swarm to life, stroking at my ribcage as they dance in my stomach. “You might think you’re dependent on me, but you aren’t. I was here to push you away from the edge, but ultimately you’re the one who stopped yourself going straight back to rock bottom. I take no credit in that. This recovery is all to do with you, cariño. No one else did that... I just helped.”

  That’s what he thinks.

  I couldn’t have survived – won’t continue to survive – without him, now.

  My breathing falters into struggled inhales followed by unfulfilled exhales. How do I thank a man for something he thinks he hasn’t had a hand in? So I trust myself, believe in my heart, and go with the one thing I want – a kiss. The way he watches me tells me he’s feeling the same and we become suspended at this moment, our lips falling closer to one another.

  A knock at the door forces us to part and I head over to the bed and sit on it, even forgetting about the almost kiss. I’m fatigued still, and I hate it the most. I know he says I’m stronger than I am, but I know there is no instant cure to what Santiago did to me. There will always be a part of me vying for a dose of heroin because Santiago made it so. While here, that yearn could take me over just so I can escape the torture they’ll inflict.

  “Boss wants to see you,” Hector says, as he enters the room. “Isla,” he says, giving me a slight head nod a polite gesture.

  “Hi,” I say, folding my arms around my body shyly.

  “You staying with her?” Javier asks, a sense of dread in his words.


  “Yeah, sure thing,” Hector replies, moving further into the room. “You be okay with that, Isla?”

  “I was going to sleep, so I don’t see why not. I’m tired,” I say, not looking fully at Hector. “I’m going to nap.”

  “Isla...” Javier starts, clearly knowing I’m feigning.

  “It’s fine,” Hector acknowledges, putting his hand on Javier’s shoulder. “You go. I’ll sit in the corner until you’re back.”

  With one last look, Javier gives me one of the sweetest, most sincere smiles and leaves the room. Now, I look to Hector, he fixes me with a look of annoyance at how little confidence I have in him.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Hector comments, I notice the change in his tone toward me.

  “I know,” I say, quietly.

  I leave no room for argument as I pull the sheets over me and curl up on my side, leaving me facing him. I say I’m going to sleep, but I’m not. I’m going to watch Hector very closely.

  Javier might trust him, but I’ve lived longer with him.

  I don’t trust him quite yet.

  After being caught up in my own safe haven, I’m not prepared for it to be stripped away from me.

  I hated how Isla changed the moment she knew I had to leave the room.

  Her trust is worse now than ever and I fear what that will mean for her. It seems she only thrives in my presence and I know that won’t bode well. I can only fight so much for her, the rest she has to do alone.

  After last night, I felt ruined by our talk, of how she spoke about Noah, about how she loved him, and then about how she could love me.

  But how do I love her?

  She has so many edges, so many broken parts, so many voids, I fear my love won’t be enough for her. I would do anything to hold her tight enough that she heals, but there’s that doubt in the back of my mind.

  What if love isn’t enough?

  “What did you need me for, boss?” I ask, walking into the room.

  “I wanted an update,” Joaquín remarks, not yet looking up from the paper in front him. “When can we put Eighteen back to work?”