Exposed

Los Cabos, Mexico

Templonuevo Undercroft

December 21, 2050

10:30 PM

There was no around, yet there was an overwhelming feeling inside her which indicated otherwise. She had no idea as to why her eyes felt unbelievably heavy whenever she tried to open them. It took great determination to urge herself to fight against the invisible restraints all over her body—her system.

Her skin was itching with fear and anxiety, there was no doubt about it.

Panic started bubbling in her chest when she had begun taking in her surroundings. The persistent gloominess that continuously dangled from each corner of the pitch-black room made her stomach upset on different levels.

She was completely terrified.

She did not know what to do. She tried to open her mouth, but attempting to speak did a number on her throat. It was apparently dry and hurting. She tried to close her eyes once more in hopes that everything was just an illusion as she opened them—that she was only imagining things, that this had not been happening for God knew when, but tears were undependable and traitorous.

Where are you now, Father?

Have you truly forsaken me?

She wanted to clutch her chest. She wanted to ignore the pain. She wanted to forget the taste of self-pity. It was all mind-numbing, as though her heart was being squeezed repeatedly, forcefully, to pump blood and extend the lives of others—and not her own.

A tiny sob broke past her lips when she remembered how excited she was that fateful day.

I am indeed stupid, my dear sister.

I am far too innocent to try and understand how our society works. I am far too clueless as to what my world faithfully dictates.

And this would not happen if I only had listened to you, Father.

She was admitting it. Things would never go this way if she simply followed the orders she was given. There was no one else to blame, but her.

She shook her head and stared down at her limp body, a sad smile forming across her bruised lips. They were already chapped for several reasons that she could not discuss, and she would admit that it really stung every time she would have had unconsciously bitten her lower lip.

Over the past few days or weeks—she was unsure, she was able to realize that she was being held captive, and she also had no idea how long she had to endure this situation. After all, being handcuffed, both hands and feet, and hung upon the cold, cemented wall was starting to take its toll on her frail body.

Despite being contained in a dark, eerie space, she did not have to see for herself that her wrists were turning purple and blue. The atrocious throbbing itself was enough for her to make that affirmation. Her wrists had been carrying her full weight for days, and it should be a non-brainer to be able to proclaim that they were both sore, tired, and slowly becoming incapable to support her body.

She stifled a yawn as her eyes grew heavier and heavier by the second. She needed to fight it, thus forcing herself to be awake. She would have been happy if she could pull it off effortlessly because it was a demonstration of self-improvement.

She did not need to wallow in utter despair just because of her current condition. She should learn to pull herself together, instead of thinking about how miserable the situation she was in. Her father would often tell her that a lot of people were suffering from famine and disease around the globe—that she should not feel entitled for a cakewalk excuse that she was born into a well-off family.

She should be able to make it out alive—somehow. There must be a way to do this. If she wanted to survive, she should be able to think of a way to save herself from this misfortune. This was just a minor mishap, and she just happened to be unfortunate that night.

If she had stayed at home, incidents would have gone differently. This tragedy would not befall her.

She hissed and let out a soft cry when an insect bit her on her left leg. The stinging was severe. She could not just easily overlook it. Then, she felt it move and swiftly crawl up her inner thigh, making her visibly struggle against the chains.

She groaned painfully when the bite of the insect pierced through her sensitive skin once again. She was trying to keep it down, not to attract the ministration of the guards, roving through this underground cellar. She did not want their attention to be focused on her once more.

They had apparently taken a liking to her physique, and there was nothing left she could do every time they tried to force themselves upon her. She had slowly learned how to control her reaction, and not give them the satisfaction of hearing her cry and beg for mercy.

Then eventually, they got bored of her.

They were not particularly happy with the way she handled the harassment. It was horrible, and she could not believe that there were people who sensationalized the agony of others.

Her heart hammered against her chest wildly when she heard several footsteps.

Being in a wretched state, she was able to notice her heightened sense of hearing. It made her think that it was not a far cry to happen due to her other senses being blocked and ineffective.

She could say the same way with her nose.

The strong rotten smell of blood was like a double-edged sword. She was able to assess her surroundings, as well as her physical shape with it. However, the stench of the male guards who kept coming in over for the past few days just laid tangibly thick through the suffocating air.

She was disgusted by it, it sickened her to no end, and she still felt petrified, thinking that it was a cycle on repeat.

She wanted them to stop.

Not a second later, she heard gigantic and heavy footsteps drawing near her very own cellar. Her nightmares crawled all over her skin as she dreaded the terrifying presence behind the door.

He stopped right in front of hers.

She was sure of it.

She could not be mistaken.

She bit her lower lip harshly to stop herself from dozing off.

Stay awake, Daphne. Stay awake. Do not pass out.

Her breathing hitched as she warily peeked one eye open. She did not want a repeat of the past days. She did not want to be harassed by several men again.

Does it seem like an impossible wish?

All she wanted was to be well-rested after long hours of torment. Her simple wish was just to close her eyes in peace, and let her mind be cleared of doubts and fears once and for all.

For the first time in forever, her desire was completely dependent on her mental capacity. The indecent assault had been physically draining, and God knew how she had been hoping that she could just brush the memories off as if nothing had happened at all.

Her sense of hearing was at all-time high at the moment. The tiniest squeak and sound would immediately elicit a cynical reaction from her whole system. She was not aware that she could still function like that, despite feeling extremely weak and almost incapacitated.

Being encaged in an unilluminated room had its own effect, not only on her eyesight, but also on her hope-depraved mind. Any insignificant amount of light that would pass through the opening of the cellar door would make her eyes hurt; it was nearly blinding in her case now.

It was kind of ironic because she used to crave morning sunlight, oh had she really loved witnessing sunrises. She could not help, but feel a little sappy of those wonderful blessings. It felt like it had been a while since she was able to enjoy her little things.

At this moment in time, all she was allowed to do was reminisce about her favorite activities back when she still had the chance to embrace that God-graced freedom.

“Boss, we may have something to tell you before you enter.”

She was on the brink of blacking out when she heard those words, loud and clear. It was enough for her heart rate to spike up restlessly, her palms turning clammy—fidgeting even.

The fumbling of the keys was the final trigger.

It felt like a solid blow in the stomach. She fought back a low whimper when the ringing in her ears became intense, the oncoming headache slowly—agonizingly making its presence known.

And from a distant background, there was a noise. They sounded like they were fighting, yelling, as if her harsh discomfort did not matter even for a second.

Her eyes remained closed as she battled against the incessant throb that, by some means, had leisurely engulfed her whole being.

Have I reached the end, yet?

What a bummer.

She still had hopes and dreams. She still had a lot to accomplish in the name of her father’s legacy. She still was yet to prove her talent and worth. She had always wished to be an advocate of good change.

But sadly, she was not able to fulfill whatever she had in her bucket list.

I guess fighting death is never a choice.

Maybe I am supposed to give into the alleviation that only eternal rest can provide?

It indeed sounded promising, though.

“Who the fuck is this?”

Her body went totally limp as it took the nippy and unkind environment in. She had caught a cold on her first night of being here, and her clothes, being torn apart, did not help much to offer protection.

The next day, however, was far more severe. One of the guards was power-tripping. She was somewhat glad that she fell asleep in spite of experiencing difficulties in adjusting the orientation of her body for the position she was in.

It was after two hours that she had declared that happiness short-lived.

The malicious guard, whose name she was able to catch on a few minutes later, decided to throw a bucket of freezing cold water in her whole body. His primary reason was just because he wanted to gauge her reaction, and he thought she looked funny when she suddenly opened her eyes and shrieked.

The impulse to spit in his face was strong, but she fought back tears because she did not want to let him know how frustrated and angry she was.

Has he no manners?

Was he not taught of them when he was a kid?

She bit her lip so hard it bled, and the guard had noticed that.

“Your skin is creamy and freckled, Princess. Has anyone ever told you that?” The guard was wearing a mischievous grin. His voice was small, and sounded like a cartoon character. She wanted to tell him that, but she was not as cruel as him. She did not want to crush his will to live, and most of all, keeping her mouth shut would allow her to escape his wrath.

However, he took her silence against her.

He took one step closer, slapped her face, and stormed out of the cellar, only to return and introduce himself. His eyes were the color of whiskey, full of pretense, evil thoughts, and dark malice. “You do not mess with Celestino and simply get away with it, Princess. I will make sure you learn your lesson before you meet our Boss. We do not want a bad girl pissing him off, do we? If that happens, we will be shouldering the punishment for you which is not fair, yes?”

She did not let Celestino affect her ability to think properly. She refused to let him manipulate her mind, and get under her skin.

He left the room afterward, slamming the door behind him. She jumped in surprise at its impact, the stringent sound booming all over the still room. She should admit that his words were impacting. She tried not to overthink, but having to receive the first ever threat in her whole existence, she simply could not pacify herself as well.

What did Celestino mean when he said she was not to get away from him?

What was he trying to embed in her mind when he mentioned his Boss?

Who is his superior?

What could they possibly get from abducting her?

Were they demanding ransom money of her father in exchange for her liberty?

Those questions on her mind had never stopped running around in circles. It had come to the point that she thought Celestino was just trying to set her off, or simply playing dirty tricks to inflict mental torture.

In the end, both of them knew he had won.

Celestino made sure that she would not get away from his fury. He would send a guard to check on her every day and perhaps, perform a stomach-churning act to mistreat her. She did not know how many days had passed since that day began. Somehow, she would feel relieved if no one showed up. She did not exactly mind if she would not get to eat every day.

No guard.

No food.

No torture.

Sporadically, it was fair enough to her. She did believe that we could not have the best of both worlds, and in order to achieve one, we must sacrifice the other one.

To her mind, it was the right thing, and she was choosing the better option. To her body, it was debilitating and unjust. How was she supposed to decide, and which one should she be prioritizing more? Because either way, her fate was already set to a dead end. Sooner or later, her resolve would break. The capability to make the right decision would have abandoned her, should she reach her allocated breaking point.

She let out a shaky sigh when the crisp air from the outside intruded into the room. Her mind was hazy, and she could not think of anything normal. She was rendered already incapable to reflect on her surroundings.

Footsteps. Huge and imposing. Full of demonic aura. Heinous pace.

If she were to describe what her system could still comprehend, those would be the fitting interpretation.

It made her sad because she felt powerless, and as much as she wanted to face them head-on, she did not have the energy left in her. She felt alarmed—frightened even, because passing out meant that she would have literally no idea about what those people were set out to do to her. To be taken advantage at her helpless state was one of the moments she had always dreaded to fall upon her fate.

The corner of her lips quirked when a rough, electrifying touch, made her stir.

“Thank you,” she managed to croak out before surrendering to darkness.

Why did she utter those two words?

“Perhaps, I can still make use of her. She is still a Garza after all.” The man’s voice was gravelly, firm, and full of authority. Although, he sounded like he was not impressed by the mistake that his men had committed, the underlying tone of smugness was surprisingly present.