Remember
“That’s not going to happen,” Giorgio says, interrupting Edgar.
They know exactly what this will do to me; reliving that day will destroy me.
But if this is the way to end this war, so be it.
“I don’t care,” I tell them calmly.
Edgar is enjoying the situation; I know he’s savoring every second.
“Then begin, darling, but I want you to close your eyes because I’m going to guide you,” Edgar says calmly.
I do as he asks, closing my eyes and focusing only on his voice.
“You’re with me in that room, sitting in the chair,” he begins to speak, and little by little the memory forms.
“I want you to feel the cold metal on your arms, the discomfort of the restraints on your wrists and heels,” he says softly and firmly.
I feel the buckles of the restraints poking my sensitive skin, the smell of mold and blood in the air.
"Tell me what you see," he orders.
"A table full of knives and sharp objects," I say, my voice choked with fear. "You're asking me about the guards and the access codes, but I don't know."
"Don't stop, Elena, tell me what happened next," Edgar pleads, his voice full of excitement.
"You said you hate having to do this, but I see in your eyes that it's a lie," I reply, trying to move away from the chair. "I'm afraid of dying."
I feel tears on my cheek.
"Tell me about the pain," Edgar asks calmly.
"The knife is dull, it hurts so much when it cuts my skin, it feels like it's tearing me apart," I say, feeling the same sensation again.
I remember him insisting on the codes, but I realize he wants my resistance.
"Go to the fire part, doll," he orders.
"No, it hurts so much, I just want it to stop," I say desperately. I'm completely immersed in this memory now; I don't remember where I was before or who I was with.
Only the memories remain, and Edgar's voice guiding me to relive this hell.
"Are you scared? Do you see the blowtorch?" he asks me.
My voice comes out choked.
"Yes, I want to break free, to escape from you," I say sincerely. "It's very hot, but I'm managing to keep my wrist raised."
I hear Edgar laugh; he's having fun.
"No, darling, you wouldn't be able to," he says, and I remember how he lowered my wrist onto the hot metal.
I let out a cry of pain as if I were still there.
"What do you feel? What do you hear?" he asks anxiously.
"It hurts so much, I hear my skin burning, the smell is awful," I say in pain. "I just want you to kill me quickly."
I plead in agony, but he didn't kill me.
“I want you to go back to the part where I pinned you to the ceiling, I remember the blood running down your arms,” he says, and I see the scene clearly.
My wrists were raw, and the pain of being suspended was excruciating.
“Tell me what I did next,” he asks, his voice full of expectation.
“You cut my clothes, you were interested in my scars,” I say, feeling my body tremble. “You caressed each one of them.”
“I loved opening each one of them again,” he admits, and I remember him trying to break me. “Now I’ll let you tell me the ending.”
“I… I feel tired, I lost a lot of blood,” I say calmly. “I feel my body burning when you clean a part of my waist with water.”
I see him wet the cloth repeatedly before picking up the scalpel.
“You said you were going to give me a gift and that I would never forget you,” I repeat the same words. “I’m sobbing while you write your name on my skin.”
Each letter hurt more than the last; it felt like each one was a curse on my soul.
“Please, stop,” I beg, just like that day. “Just kill me, please.”
I had never begged like that, not even when Henk beat me in the worst ways. Something about the way Edgar tortured me disturbed me.
“The smell of blood now makes me nauseous, I can’t feel my body anymore, his smiling face is in front of me and I think I’m going to faint,” I say, remembering every detail.
“That’s right, darling, do you remember what I said before you fainted?” he asks, and I don’t remember that part.
I search my memory, but after that last scene, the world went dark.
“No,” I say, lost.
“Then look at me so I can tell you,” he orders, and then the world becomes real again.
I open my eyes and feel my cheeks wet.
I realize Giovanni is behind Edgar with his hand on his shoulder, and that Vicente is behind me and Giorgio is beside me.
I don’t know how that damned memory affected me out there, but I feel nauseous.
I look at Edgar and my hands tremble.
“Show me the scar on your neck,” he asks, and I turn my face so he can see it. “I said I’d make you tell me exactly how you felt, just for my pleasure.”
He speaks, and then I remember.
I remember him holding my bloodied face, his fingers painfully pressing my chin.
He promised me that, that it would come out of my mouth and that he would listen with pleasure.
Giovanni punches Edgar in the face, and blood runs from his now-broken nose, but he keeps smiling, relishing my pain.
It was always his plan, his sadism unfolding exactly as he imagined.
I see Edgar’s smile at me and want to get away from him.
Vicente touches my shoulder, and I startle.
“The address,” Giorgio orders, and Edgar glares at him angrily.
He finally gives me the address, but I don’t feel relieved.
“Elena, this will be the last time I see you, and I must say that, as always, it was a pleasure,” Edgar says as Giovanni releases him from the table to take him out of the room.
“I hope you burn in hell,” I tell him before the door closes.
Tears stream down my face and I tremble violently.
I can remember what I fought so hard to forget, what I thought I had overcome.
In the end, I just swept it all under the rug, hoping that none of it had been real.
“It’s over,” Vicente states, kneeling beside me.
“I… I want to go home,” I say between sobs.
How can a memory hurt so much?
Vicente helps me out of the room while I try to control my crying, failing miserably.
I get into the car and shrink into the seat; the boys were right, it was a terrible idea.
When I finally calm down, a few solitary tears insist on falling, but all that remains is emptiness. The car stops in front of the entrance and I see a blue BMW parked in the visitor area.
I get out, a little disoriented, and I'm confused to find Dominic standing at the entrance.
But nothing surprises me more than what I do next.
Without thinking much, I throw myself into his arms and cry, desperately needing his embrace.