5 – Mr. Lucius
It’s my mother’s voice I hear first. I can’t understand what she’s saying, but I know she’s not talking to me. When she realizes I’m waking up, she stops addressing whoever it was and turns her full attention to me.
“Leonor? Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” she asks.
My awareness gradually returns. The events of the day run through my head like a series recap: the morning with my mom, buying the pills, the guy at the beach bar, applying to the dance conservatory, arguing with my mother, and the kidnapping.
I try to jump from her lap, almost do it, but my balance still isn’t fully back.
We’re not at my old school or at home. Everything here is modern and luxurious. The warm colors contrast with the cold, silent atmosphere of the room.
“Where are we, Leonora?” I ask, trying to orient myself. I look around, not sure what I’m searching for. Maybe an exit. Maybe the person she was talking to.
I reach for the spot on my head that hit the car window and is now throbbing. I stop halfway when I hear a man’s voice.
“Excellent timing, Leonor. You’ve resurfaced just in time to be of marrying age.” His tone is calm and polite.
I look for the speaker. He appears from behind a bar at the back of the room. His image becomes clear as he walks toward me, holding a glass out in my direction.
“Who is that?” I ask, not to him, but to my mother. That’s when I notice the bruise on her lip and the swelling on her cheekbone.
“I’m your father, Leonor. Welcome back to the place you never should’ve left,” he says.
“Did those men do that to you?” I ask my mom, ignoring the man I’d been curious about my whole life.
“Of course not, Leonor. I came as soon as I found out they had taken you,” she answers, and suddenly, everything starts to make sense in my mind.
Of course no one could’ve broken into my house that easily. It was my security-obsessed mother who fortified that place. I wouldn’t have even been kidnapped if I hadn’t messed up the route. My mom’s only mistake in keeping me safe was trusting I’d follow her instructions.
Apparently, I can’t follow orders even when I try.
She went back to the man she spent all these years hiding from, for my sake. He’s the one who did this to her.
My mother takes the glass he offers.
I look at her bruised face, then at him, one hand in his pocket, waiting for my reaction. My supposed father. Not even supposed, really. I can see myself in him. The arrogant nose, the dark wavy hair, even the shape of the mouth I thought I got from my mother, it’s his.
This man in front of me is who he says he is. He is my father.
“You bastard, you son of a bitch. I’ll rip your face off with my nails. Who do you think you are to touch my mom? You little piece of shit, you’ll see what I’ll do to you.” I scream at him. He doesn’t even flinch. His only response is the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk.
“Leonor, calm down,” my mother says, trying to hold me gently.
Mrs. Leonora trying to hold me gently! My mother is not gentle when it comes to my foul mouth and attitude.
I’m so irritated I stop yelling at my so-called father and turn to face the woman who looks like my mom, sounds like my mom, but is acting like a helpless princess.
“Calm down? That fucking bastard hit you, Leonora. You’re the one who shouldn’t be calm!” I say, easily pulling away from her touch.
I just shrugged off my damned mother. So easily. Unbelievable.
“She got your eyes and my filthy mouth, my jewel. A perfect mix of the two of us,” he says with infuriating calm. “Now enough with the aggression. We have serious matters to discuss.”
Deep breath. Looks like I’m the only one in this room not perfectly composed. I need to calm down. First, I inhale through my nose and exhale slowly through my mouth, with both of them watching me. Second, I stand up from the couch with the same elegance my mom always has, as if she was born in heels. Third, I take the glass from my mother’s hand and sniff the drink. Smells high-end.
Both of my parents have great taste in alcohol and don’t mind offering it to me. How the hell did I turn out worse than these two?
And fourth, my favorite part, I smile sweetly, as if ready to listen, then throw the liquid in the disgusting man’s face.
I hear my mother gasp behind me. She stands and places herself in front of me.
“She didn’t mean it. She just doesn’t know you yet. Lucius, please don’t take it personally. She’ll learn,” my mother pleads for me. I’ve never seen her beg like that. Even when she’s polite, it sounds like a command.
Lucius. That’s my father’s name.
Without losing composure, he grabs her shoulders, kisses her forehead softly, then pushes her back onto the couch.
“Don’t get involved where you weren’t invited, Leo,” he says before turning back to me.
I’m frozen. No time to process what just happened before his hand strikes across my face hard enough to make me stumble. If it weren’t for the couch to lean on, I’d have hit the floor.
“You’re going to learn to respect me, Leonor. And more importantly, you’re going to learn to fear me,” he says, offering his hand.
This asshole hits me and then offers a hand like he’s helping me get up from a fall. I stare at his hand, then look at my mother, who’s torn between stepping forward to defend me and shaking her head, silently begging me not to retaliate.
My mother knows me too well.
“Like hell I will,” I say, shoving his hand away.
I usually watch my foul mouth around my mother, as a bare minimum sign of respect. She’s too elegant and refined for that kind of trash talk. But things have changed.
“Disrespectful little girl,” he mutters. I see his patience starting to crack. Perfect. That’s exactly what I want.
“No!” my mother shouts, jumping between us. She’s the one who takes the next slap.
“My turn to educate our daughter, my precious jewel. You should’ve stayed here decorating the house since you weren’t even good for teaching this girl manners,” he says, shoving her again. This time, I throw myself between them.
“Let go of my mother, you coward. You worthless piece of trash. I’ll destroy you. I’ll be the one to teach you not to mess
Lucius looks down at me with an air of superiority, not the least bit intimidated by my threats.
“You’re going to get reacquainted with your punishment room, little girl,” he says with a tone that carries both cruelty and sadistic amusement.
He signals toward the door, and more men appear, not just the two who brought me here.
Lucius rips me from my mother’s arms. She screams in desperation, begging him to spare me, even offers herself in my place. He’s stronger than he looks in that fancy party suit. I thought he was just the type who gave orders. I was wrong. He seems like the kind who handles things personally when necessary.
I kick and scream the whole way, cursing him with more words than I thought I knew. He carries me without effort, opens a door, and doesn’t even care when my head hits the frame, right where I was already injured, intensifying the pain.
Lucius throws me onto a pale blue carpet.
“You’re going to learn who’s in charge, little girl,” he says before shutting the door.