He looked me over for a few seconds, put his head down, and slowly walked back up the stairs. I sat there for a long time, trying to get myself together. The backsides of my thighs hurt from all the rubbing. Belt buckles and studs on the pants of some who hadn’t removed them had raked the backside of my legs raw.
I guess I finally realized no one was going to come down and help me, so I tried to stand. Cum was flowing out of me, trailing down my inner thighs. I took a couple of small steps. I needed something to wipe myself with. Looking around, there was nothing.
In one corner was a closed door. I thought it might be some kind of closet or maybe a bathroom. I sort of shuffled over to it, carrying my soiled clothing. My shoes were scattered somewhere on the floor, and bending over to pick them up was excruciating. The door wasn’t locked, so I tugged on it. It was jammed, so I pulled harder. The door popped open toward me. It was dark inside. I found the pull chain for the light.
The room was empty except for two bags lying on a small wooden table. One was a dirty green backpack, and the other was a duffel-type bag. Maybe someone had some clothing in there that I could use to wipe up with, I thought. I unzipped the duffel bag and was stunned to see bricks of white power wrapped in plastic and stacked neatly in rows. I couldn’t be sure whether it was heroin or cocaine. I let go of the bag as if it were an electric shock.
I pulled the backpack up and opened it. I could not believe my eyes. Tight stacks of bills were arranged in neat bundles. Some were Lempira, but most were US dollars. Every space available was packed tightly. I touched some, maybe out of disbelief. I trailed my hand down one stack and pried back one bill. One hundred-dollar US bills—thousands of them I dragged my thumb down slowly. Were they all hundreds?
My hands shook and my body chilled as I realized I had discovered the very thing the gang relied on: cash—thousands, probably hundreds of thousands of dollars. This was likely part of the hard-earned money they had taken from people all over the slum as extortion, too. Poor people’s desperately-needed money was here, mixed with ill-gotten drug sales.
I sat on the filthy floor and began trying to get my shoes back on. I pulled my bra on right over the moist stains still clinging to me. I couldn’t find my panties, so I just pulled my jeans up and felt the wetness still trailing down the inside of my leg. My hair was a mat of drying semen. I tried to hold it back, and it actually clung together due to all the goo drying in it.
As I reached for the light and turned it off, I looked out across the basement. Towards the back of the room, I could see a set of stairs leading up to the rear. I shuffled weakly in that direction. The heavy door was held shut by three heavy drawbolts that were covered in rust and spider webs. The door had probably not been opened in years. Only a few steps up, I could see through the dirty windows that it was now very dark outside. I could hear the muffled blare of music coming from somewhere upstairs. The celebration was already underway. I guess I had only been the warm-up for the evening. I forced the bolts back and pulled the door open.
The rear of the building was a junk pile. Trash and garbage littered the whole area. The alley seemed even darker and would be the best way out.
Something in me would not let it go. The bastards had taken all of my dignity. I knew that Lobo would still see me around and think of me as shit. Fuck him!
Maybe it was some of the fogginess of the drugs they had used on me. I knew the rage was building inside of me, but I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t believe my legs as they turned on their own, and I staggered back into that basement.
The stash in the closet! I deserved it! I had certainly earned it. “Fuck them! Fuck them!” I kept repeating. I went back in, yanked open the door, grabbed both bags, and pushed the door closed. I practically stumbled going up the steps and out into the cool evening. “Bastards, goddamn bastards, every one of them!” I said to myself. I could now hear the party in full swing even from half a block away.
I walked for blocks and blocks. I knew I was miles away from home. Eventually I made my way to a busy road, thinking maybe someone would give me a ride. I stood along the curb but soon realized the futility of this. Occasionally, a lone truck would speed past. No one slowed down.
This was still a bad area, and no driver was going to stop. I looked like a mess. I smelled of cum, my hair was all matted down. No one would ever…
“The money,” I thought for a second and figured maybe it would improve my chances. I unzipped the backpack and tore the band off a pile of bills. I snaked out a single one-hundred dollar bill and walked for a bit until I was clear of any buildings. I stood in an open spot and waited for the next group of vehicles to go by.
As the next vehicles approached, I held up the bill and slowly waved it. The group of cars blew past me. The next ones did the same. But then, suddenly, the last truck in the group slowed, and brake lights came on. I couldn’t believe it. An old pickup truck backed slowly towards me. The windows were already down. An old man was behind the wheel. He stopped and studied me for a second.
“Hola, Señor,” I started.
“Do you wish a ride?” he asked.
“If you don’t mind, sir,” I choked out the words.
“You can hop in the back if you want to,” he said, motioning over his shoulder.
I climbed in quickly before he changed his mind. He started off down the road, with me riding on the wooden crates he had stacked in back. The night air was cleansing in a small way. The stench from my body was being blown away. The wind and my tears had finally washed away the remnants of the gang’s attack from my eyes.
I began staring at the bill fluttering in my hand. I had never touched a bill so big. I knew they existed, but I never dreamed I would have something like that in my own hand. We went along for maybe fifteen minutes when, off to the right, I began to see the familiar shapes of the church steeples in my neighborhood. I tapped on the rear window, and the old guy started slowing down and then came to a stop along the shoulder. I slung the duffel bag over my shoulder, grabbed the backpack, and climbed out of the back.
I walked up on the passenger side still holding the bill and tried to offer it to him, but he waved me off. He was a kindly-looking old gentleman, most likely a farmer. His weathered skin and calloused hands displayed a hard but honest life. I let the bill fall from my grip, and it landed on the seat next to him. I thanked him, and he was off.
Chapter 2
I tried to creep as quietly as possible into my little home. I had hoped not to wake Momma, but I had just gotten inside when the light came on. Momma was still dressed and had been sitting in the dark waiting for me. Somehow, she knew something bad had happened to me.
I will never forget the look on her face. I was a total mess. My eyes had turned red, and my hair had become matted. The damp stains down my pant legs were still visible. She started crying. I couldn’t touch her. I started crying too. Tears I didn’t know were still in me flowed down my cheeks. During all this, Carlos had woken up. He was completely shocked at my appearance.
As only a mother can love her offspring, Momma’s first instinct was to grab washcloths and begin bathing me. She waved Carlos away with no voice, just heartbreaking moans. She ran the warm water in the tub and laid out towels on the floor. She carefully helped me remove the clothing which was stuck in places to my skin. Her agony and hurt grew as each article of my clothing was peeled away.
My breasts were covered with bite marks and scratches. She knew! She knew in her heart what I had gone through. The rape had left marks all over me.
She gently stroked my face with soap and a soft cloth. Pouring warm water over my head was the most comforting feeling I could ever remember. Soapy water cascaded down my shoulders, taking the filth with it. She wrapped a towel around my head, pulled my face into her bosom, and held me there. I could feel the vibrations in her body as she wept.
We didn’t speak of the things that had happened. There would be time for that later. For now, she just wanted to hold me and reassure me that I would survive this. She was just thankful that I was alive. Our moment in the bathroom was short lived. As she led me out the door and into the cool room, Carlos was standing there with the two bags I had dropped on the floor. He had opened both of them. The contents were clearly visible. Momma looked at me. Her face was white as a ghost.
“Maria, what…?
Carlos was speechless too, but he already knew. He picked up a brick of dope and held it out.
“The gang’s?”
Somehow, in the clear light of our small room, the reality of what I had done was beginning to dawn on me. Momma started to panic.
“Take it back,” she said. “Take it all back,” she kept repeating herself.
Momma’s voice began to show her terror.
I was shivering now and almost ready to pass out. I hadn’t thought of the consequences. I hadn’t thought at all. Carlos just stood there with a blank look on his face. And if it wasn’t bad enough already, the first words out of his mouth were, “They will kill us all for this.” We all knew it was true.
“Take it back,” Momma kept repeating, her voice now rising in terror. Carlos looked at her in disbelief. “We can’t, Momma; they will murder us all and cut our heads off.”
Carlos sat on the bed, shaking his head. “We are all dead.”
“Damn it, stop saying that!” I said, crying again.
Momma cradled my head, almost shaking it. I knew she was beside herself, and yet she still wanted this all to just go away. Carlos finally said the most responsible thing.
“We’ve got to get Uncle Enrico.” “He will know what we should do.”
“We will, first thing in the morning,” Momma said. “Now we need to sleep.”
“No!” “We have to now!” said Carlos, almost shouting. “They will be here tonight and kill us for sure.”
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