The door is my best hope of escape, but Berriz moves so quickly, our strength unmatched, the odds of escaping slim.
I jerk my hand from his grasp, panic filling me.
Anger flashes in his eyes. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me, Evangelina. I love you more than anything in the world.”
What does such a man know of love? What does he know of me? Perhaps he wants me because he cannot have me, but that is not love. Love is something infinitely kinder than this.
He’s so close now, crowding my space, and try as I might to escape him, there’s no room for me to move. He is everywhere, surrounding me, invading me.
“You’re responsible for what happens to your father. Don’t forget that.” He grips my shoulders, his fingers digging into my skin, shaking me like a broken doll, my head thrown back, the pain from his hands nearly unbearable. “I love you, Evangelina.”
He says it over and over again, as though that explains why he’s here and attempting this horrible thing, as though his perverted version of “love” forgives all manner of sins.
I hate him.
Sobs escape my lips, but he keeps shaking me, his actions growing rougher with each moment that passes.
Please, someone help me.
Berriz is so big, too strong, and the zeal in his eyes has become explosive, his feelings and wants lashing out at me in an uncontrollable madness. The civilized veneer he adopted when he put on his fine dress uniform has disappeared completely.
He is little more than an animal now, a predator in the jungle.
I scream, the sound ripped from the depths of my soul, a primal terror filling me.
Berriz loosens his grip on me, momentarily startled by the noise, by me, and I wrench myself away from him, running toward my bedroom.
My mind is empty save one word running through it over and over again:
Escape.
I throw open the door to my room, another scream torn from me, but he’s too fast, at my heels. Berriz catches me by the arm.
It is over. I am doomed.
And then, as if God himself has heard my prayers and answered them—
Suddenly, men pour through my bedroom window, the outer door to our house, shouts and oaths filling the room, the men charging us and separating me from Berriz.
I push through the crowd of men swarming around, the familiar faces filling me with relief. Emilio is there, and so many of our friends, their hands on Berriz, binding him, carrying him from the room, saving me.
There’s a commotion outside the house—heavy footsteps and yells—and Spanish soldiers burst through the door, coming to Berriz’s aid as my rescuers shout back at them, my sister Carmen’s voice echoing somewhere out there in the entry room.
I close the door to my bedroom, sinking to the floor, my legs shaking.
Where is my father? Is he in jail? Has Berriz harmed him? What will I do? What will Berriz do to me for rejecting him? For drawing attention to his perfidy?
On the other side of the door, men shout, their voices indistinguishable as they argue among themselves, and then finally, all is quiet.
Have they thrown Carmen in jail, too?
I should leave the room, go and see what has happened to my sister, to Emilio, but even as I try to rise from my crouched position on the floor, my limbs are frozen in place.
I struggle to steady my breathing, to keep the panic at bay.
I don’t remember my mother, she died when I was so young, but even after such tragedy, the sadness that afflicted our father, we lived a good life in Puerto Príncipe. My sisters, Flor de Maria, Carmen, Clemencia, and I were happy. We had a garden where we would grow flowers. We had some money, and life was as pleasant as we could make it. Perhaps my father might have wished for a son, but he loved all of us and treated us as though we were his equals, never as children.
I would give anything to go back to those days, to be reunited with Flor de Maria and Clemencia. I would give anything to escape these horrors.
I pray my father and sister are safe.
Where is Carmen?
Hours must pass, the walls of the room growing smaller and smaller. Surprisingly, no one comes for me. It’s impossible to believe a man like Berriz will let this incident stand, that there won’t be some retaliation for me rebuffing his advances. Will he do as he said, and strike at my father to punish me? I have to hope he has merely imprisoned my father; if Berriz’s true aim was to seduce me, even he couldn’t have been foolish enough to first harm my father.
Finally, I can’t take the waiting anymore, the urge to flee overwhelming, and I slip out the door and head toward a little cabin I know from when I used to explore the island with Carmen. It’s as good a place as any to hide until I decide what to do next.
I walk toward the hills, each and every sound alerting me to a potential danger. I imagine the beady eyes of animals watching me from the dark, hoping they won’t attack me.
At the moment, though, the animals hardly feel like the greatest danger facing me.
What has happened to Carmen?
I trudge on through the dark night, exhaustion seeping into my bones, but the need to find safe shelter for the evening propels me forward.
When I reach the cabin, I slow, the sound of voices reaching me where I hoped I’d find silence instead.
I duck down in the brush and peek out between the foliage.
Soldiers mill about the structure.
They must have come to my house and found me gone, and decided to search the island.
I still, my heart pounding madly in my chest as I watch their movements. As well as I thought I knew this place, the Spanish know it well, too, and they can predict my movements as quickly as I make them. Considering we’re on an island, there are limited options available to me. Are there other soldiers out searching for the men who came to my aid when Berriz attacked me? For Emilio and our friends?
I’ve done nothing wrong in all of this, and yet, while I thought Berriz would be exposed for the villain he is, it seems as though I am the one they seek to punish, my crime that of telling a Spanish soldier the world isn’t his for the taking, I am not his for the taking.
If they catch me, I’ll surely be killed.
I head deeper into the hills, quickening my pace, casting a glance over my shoulder every so often to ensure no one follows me. My feet slip against the ground, and a few times I nearly fall, but I continue on, my body aching, heart heavy.
As I walk on, the sky begins to lighten, daybreak dawning.
Each sound that fills the air around me sends a chill down my spine. Without the cover of darkness, my chances of being caught rise dramatically.
Am I to be thrown in jail? Sentenced to the firing squad?