Camila Rodrigo:
I couldn't breathe. My chest tightened, and my throat burned. I knew it was a dream, but I couldn't wake up.
"No!" I screamed, my voice barely a whisper in the nightmare. My father was hitting my mother again, his fists crashing down like thunder. She was bleeding, her face swollen and bruised, her body trembling beneath him.
Once he finished, he stepped back, lighting a cigarette, his eyes cold. "You'll get up when they come," he muttered. "The men will take turns with you, like always."
He didn't care. He never cared. He just watched, as always, like a spectator in his own twisted game, while my mother gasped for breath on the floor.
And I... I stood there, powerless. Frozen. Unable to stop it. Always too late.
"No! Mom!" I screamed, my body jerking upright from the bed. My heart raced, panic clawing at my throat. My breath came in sharp gasps as the nightmare clung to me like a shadow, suffocating me.
I couldn't breathe, couldn't move, the images of him—his fists, her blood—flooding my mind again.
The door slammed open, and Jennifer rushed in. "Camila? What's wrong? Talk to me."
I couldn't get the words out. My chest was tight, suffocating me. I gasped, stumbling over the word I couldn't say, "Fa... fa..." The sound caught in my throat, broken and desperate.
Jennifer's arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. I shook in her embrace, the cold sweat on my skin mingling with the hot tears. She didn't need to hear more. She knew. She always knew.
"He's not coming back," Jennifer whispered, her voice low and fierce. "He's not here anymore. He can't hurt us."
I didn't respond. I couldn't. My body trembled as I clung to her, my words lost in the storm of emotions inside me. All I could do was nod, letting her warmth be the only thing that kept me tethered to the present, even as the nightmare still lingered, refusing to let go.
---
The next morning, the light crept through the blinds, casting a dull, grayish hue across the room. I could hear the soft hum of the city outside, the world continuing as if nothing had changed. But everything inside me felt still, frozen in time.
I had a meeting with Mr. Roberto today. I hadn't met him yet, but I knew one thing: he was the one who assigned me to this Devil of a job. The only thing he made clear was that Mr. Alessandro was supposed to be my ticket to becoming the best psychologist.
I couldn't shake the sense of unease in my chest. I had no idea who Mr. Roberto was, and yet, I had to rely on him to make my future. I didn't know if I could trust him.
But I had no choice. This was it. This was the chance I had to take.
I finally reached the building. The sleek glass exterior reflected the muted sky, casting an almost ominous shadow over the busy streets below. The lobby was pristine, too pristine, with marble floors that gleamed as though they'd never seen a single footprint. I walked toward the elevator, my footsteps echoing in the empty space.
The receptionist—she was a woman with a sharp, impassive expression—looked up from her screen just as I approached. Her eyes scanned me briefly, almost as if she were evaluating whether I was worthy of being in this place.
"You're here for Mr. Roberto?" she asked, her voice cold and professional.
I nodded. "Yes, I am."
She pressed a button on her desk, and the elevator pinged softly, the doors sliding open with a smooth, practiced ease. "The 100th floor. Take the elevator, and you'll be directed once you arrive."
I stepped into the elevator, the heavy doors closing behind me with a soft hiss. I pressed the button for the 100th floor, watching the numbers climb slowly on the panel above. My chest tightened again, but I forced myself to breathe, to hold it together.
The building seemed to stretch on forever. The higher we went, the more surreal everything felt. The smooth walls and polished surfaces of the elevator gave no clue about the man who waited at the top, the man who would shape my future.
The elevator stopped with a gentle jolt. The doors slid open to an even quieter floor. As I stepped out, the hallway stretched ahead—long and silent. Soft lights gleamed above, casting a warm glow across the otherwise sterile surroundings. There were no sounds of footsteps, no voices. Everything was unnervingly calm.
I walked down the corridor, the click of my heels almost too loud in the silence. At the end of the hall, a large door loomed, guarded by a tall, suited man who didn't look at me as I approached. He simply opened the door without a word, allowing me to step inside.
The office was as I'd expected—modern, minimalist, with an air of expensive taste. It was immaculate. Glass walls, a long, sleek desk at the center, and a view of the city that made everything below seem distant, insignificant.
Sitting behind the desk was a man I had never met, yet somehow felt I knew. Mr. Roberto. His sharp suit, dark eyes, and controlled demeanor spoke volumes. He didn't stand to greet me, but his gaze was steady, measuring.
"Camila Rodrigo," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I've heard a lot about you."
"You have?" I raised my eyebrows, surprised.
"Yes I have. But let's get straight to business. You know Mr. Alessandro is a dangerous man, don't you? He's not who he seems. He's got connections, power... You should be careful, trust me. A man like him can turn on you when you least expect it."
I nodded, trying to keep my composure. "I've been managing fine."
He leaned back in his chair, a small smirk on his lips. "You've got a beautiful face. Beautiful legs, too." His gaze lingered on me, making my skin crawl, but I didn't react. "But it's not just looks that'll get you ahead. It's knowing who to trust."
He got up and walked toward me. I stayed still, my hands clenched at my sides. He stood close, his voice lowering.
"I need you to do something for me," he said, his hand lifting my chin slightly, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Inspect Mr. Alessandro. Get close to him. See how he reacts, how he thinks. I want details, Camila. The kind only someone like you can get."
His touch was cold, his eyes locked onto mine.
"Well… I."
"Think of it as a favor," Mr. Roberto interrupted, his voice sharp. "I pay off your sister's debt. Take care of your mother's tumor surgery. Huh? Just a little watching… It's a deal between you and me."
I stared at him, trying to push down the knot in my stomach. His words felt like cold metal, pressing into me. I didn't know what to do, but my mother's surgery, my sister's debt—it all hung over me like a storm cloud. I couldn't risk losing them.
"Yes," I finally whispered, the word barely leaving my lips.
Mr. Roberto's smile was sharp, predatory. "Good. You'll learn to do well, trust me."
I nodded, but the words felt empty, hollow. "Just watching him, right? Nothing more?"
He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "Yes, just watching. But…" He slid a folder across the table, the sound of it heavy, like a weight settling between us. "You'll need to sign this."
I hesitated, glancing at the thick stack of papers in front of me. "A contract?"
He nodded, leaning back in his chair, his eyes glinting with something darker. "Yes, a contract. To protect both of us. You wouldn't want to change your mind later, would you? You're not one to back out, are you?" His gaze sharpened, as though daring me to question him.
I didn't answer right away, the weight of the decision settling in my chest. I glanced at the papers, then back at him. "And if I sign this… I'll just be watching?"
He leaned forward, his voice low. "Yes, just watching. But you'll be in the right position to learn, to… understand things. Trust me, you'll want to know how this world works."
My hands trembled as I reached for the pen. The contract felt like a chain, but what choice did I have?
I signed. The moment the ink hit the paper, a chill spread through me, and Mr. Roberto's smile widened.
"Good girl. Now, we'll start soon," he said. But before I could even process what was happening, he added, his voice taking on a darker edge, "But remember, once you're in this world, there's no turning back."
I froze, my heart pounding in my chest.