End of the war
I packed my things early; Grandpa sent someone to bring new clothes and my documents.
My name is now Luiza Lewis, and I'm originally from Canada, where I'm moving to. Or not.
I replied to Chris's message accepting the deal.
I arranged to meet him at the airport, where I was supposed to be to catch my flight, which leaves in the late afternoon.
None of my siblings or relatives showed up to see me, and I know Grandpa is behind it; I must admit he keeps his promises.
I decided to write a letter to each of them, since I don't know if I'll see them again.
The longest letters are from my siblings and my father. I wrote everything I didn't say and should have said, all my feelings and the thanks I needed to leave recorded.
I finished writing all the letters and was in tears.
At two in the afternoon, I left the hospital and got into a car that was waiting for me outside.
The driver took me to the airport without me having to ask. I picked up a new cell phone and the necklace from the package my grandfather sent me—the only thing he asked me to take from my old life.
I got out of the car, and the driver handed me a suitcase and left without saying anything.
I entered the airport and sat in the agreed-upon place to meet Chris.
I waited about three hours until I felt someone's arm around my shoulders.
“Hello, darling,” Chris said with a cold smile.
“Let's get this over with,” I said without showing any emotion.
“Calm down, Elena, we don't have all the time in the world,” he said, laughing and caressing my cheek. “Tell me, why the airport?”
“Because I was leaving,” I said, and he looked at me surprised.
“You were running away?” he asked incredulously, then laughed. “You keep surprising me.”
He stood up and extended his hand to me.
I glance back before getting up and grabbing my suitcase, but Chris stops me before I can start walking.
"Leave your suitcase and purse there, darling," he says. "You won't need them anymore."
I obey and leave my purse with my cell phone and my new ID.
Chris takes my hand and leads me out of the airport, where we get into a black BMW.
I sit next to Chris, who strokes my arm, and I use all my strength not to flinch.
"You look beautiful," he says, and my stomach churns. "I heard one of the bombs left you in a coma for a while."
"Yes, it did," I reply, looking out the window.
"It's good that you recovered. You need to be well to survive in our home, darling," Chris says, and my blood runs cold.
"What do you want from me, Chris?" I ask, looking into his dark eyes.
“I want you to pay for killing my brother and then live the rest of your miserable existence tied to me, giving me children and being a humiliation to your family.”
I feel like spitting in his face, but I control myself.
“I have a feeling you’re going to be disappointed,” I say, smiling at him.
The slap hits my face hard, and it only widens my smile.
“Is that all you know how to do?” I ask, spitting a little blood on his face. “I’m looking forward to our time together.”
He looks at me angrily, and we spend the rest of the trip in silence.
My stomach hurts a little, and I blame the anxiety for it. I dug my own grave.
When the car stops, Chris makes a move to get out, but I stop him.
“You promised me something,” I say, reminding him of our agreement.
He smiles, gets out of the car, and opens the door for me. When I extend my foot, he grabs my hair and throws me to the ground forcefully.
I have to raise my arms to avoid scratching my face and end up exposing my abdomen.
I feel Chris kicking me hard in the stomach; he doesn't stop until he sees me spit blood.
While I'm huddled on the floor, in pain, he grabs his cell phone and starts recording.
"I may be a monster, but the Sinclairs keep their promises," he says, pointing the camera at me. "Elena Valentini, I declare the war over and your hell has only just begun."
He stops recording and sends the video to my family.
I hear footsteps and look up, seeing the rest of the Sinclair family and Eloisa with them.
She smiles at me and walks toward me.
"I warned you, Elena," she says, bending down to look at my face. "I don't take the losing side."
"Take her to her room," I hear Chris's father say. "We'll have her soon."
My body trembles as Chris drags me by my hair into the house. I don't scream or fight with him, because I know it would only make things worse.
He leads me to a hallway behind the main entrance stairs. We got into the elevator and went up to the top floor.
He opened a heavy iron door and dragged me to one of the last doors.
When he opened it, I saw a luxurious, yet terrifying room, with chains hanging on the wall and a glass shelf with various torture instruments.
The place had no windows and was ventilated only by a small air vent.
“Welcome to your room,” Chris said, throwing me onto the bed. “Eloisa helped us prepare it exclusively for you.”
My body trembled as I observed every detail.
“Don’t leave me here,” I whispered, and he laughed.
“I didn’t hear you,” he said, approaching.
“Don’t leave me here!” I screamed, and he pulled my hair hard.
“You killed my brother and you still have the audacity to ask me that?” he yelled in my face.
“It was an accident,” I said with tears in my eyes. “He shot David and I got scared,” I explained quickly.
“But the bullet still comes out of your gun, you pulled the trigger,” he says calmly. “So, darling, be thankful you’re not dead and that we’re giving you a chance.”
He pushes me back onto the bed and turns to leave.
“I’ll be back in a few hours so we can play,” Chris says and leaves the room.
I run after him and bang on the door, yelling for him to let me out.
I keep yelling and banging until I collapse on the floor, exhausted, begging my family to forgive me for the choices I made.
Hours later, I hear the door lock open.
I jump off the floor and run to the opposite corner of the room, seeing all the Sinclairs enter, and my body freezes with fear.
“Sit on the bed, girl,” Jorge Sinclair orders coldly.
I say I obey, but I sit as far away from them as possible.
“Do you understand what you did right?” he asks, and I nod.
“Eloisa told us what your family did to her for hurting you,” says Chris’s older brother, and I realize I don’t know his name. “And we don’t condemn what your family did because they’re just getting revenge on you.”
I swallow hard because I know what that means.
“And we will avenge Silas, Elena,” Chris says, and I lean even further against the headboard.
Chris’s older brother walks to the glass shelf with a key.
“Henri, get the thin knife and the iron whip,” his father orders, and tears stream down my face.
Chris approaches me with a calm smile and gently pulls my hand.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart, I promise I’ll take care of your wounds later,” Chris says, wiping away my tears.
He helps me up and takes off my shirt, leaving me in just my top. "Chris, please," I plead, but he doesn't hear me.
While I'm chained to the wall, Henri begins to brandish the whip with metal balls on the ends near me.
"I'm a professional at this, darling," he whispers in my ear. "I promise to cause you as much pain as possible."