"She's alive!" a shaky woman's voice screamed.
"Oh my god! This is a miracle," now it's a man's voice.
"Don't just stand there! Help me move her out of the water," he commanded.
"Oh, sorry. I think we need a plank to put her onto. We have to be careful," she answered.
"Good thinking. Wait for me here and you might as well get something clean to cover her lacerated face."
My face?
Lacerated?!
Heavens no!!!!
After several minutes, I felt being lifted and placed on a flat surface. It must be a plank or some sort.
"What happened to you?" the man asked.
They started to walk on a path that I supposed was a pebbled riverbank because of the uneven steps they took.
"Thomas, I have a strong feeling that she's one of those unfortunate women who are trapped inside the walls of that unforgiving Castillo de Diablos," she said with her weak voice full of sympathy and a glint of suppressed anger.
"Do you really think so? It's been ages, Marriane. Can she really be the answer to our prayer?" Thomas said in a hopeful tone.
"I'd bet my life for it," she answered with certainty.
"I don't know, Marriane. I want to believe, but it's been a long time," Thomas sighed.
"Don't lose hope, Thomas. She must live. She must!" Marriane stated with a strong conviction.
I woke up with my heart beating fast, sweat covered my forehead.
"Fuck!" I shouted synchronized by a thundering roar. After calming myself, I got up and walked towards the window where I could see the scenic view of the city through the glass hazed by the streaks of raindrops. It's five in the morning, but it's still dark outside. The thunder clapped and the lightning pierced through the darkness.
For all these years, that memory still hunted me down like prey.
"I need more time," I whispered in the dark. I groped for my cigarette on the window-side table and lit one.
"I will go back to find you, Rose--- no matter the cost! But, I need to be well-equipped if we want to win this fight against those demons," I thought as I puffed the last smoke.
After crushing the cigarette butt onto the ashtray, I put my robe on and headed to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee.
"You're awake, my child! Can't you sleep?" the warm voice of Marriane welcomed me. With a faint smile, I cast her a look.
"Yes, mum. Why are you early today?" I asked her as I brewed my coffee.
"The storm makes me uneasy. Do you still have nightmares?" she asked while looking at me intently. I knew I shouldn't lie.
I lightly nodded my head. She sighed.
"That's alright! That's normal...always remember that your peace of mind comes after~"
"~revenge," I continued. "I will never forget that."
"Good, girl. Just do what I say and you'll be fine!" she uttered, smiling and contented with my answer.
We chatted for nearly an hour before she said goodbye as I prepared my breakfast—two pieces of wheat bread filled with chicken salad and a glass of fresh fruit juice.
I checked the time and noted that I still had thirty minutes to get ready for work. After preparing my food, I took a shower. It wasn't the act of showering that tormented me, but the reflection that greeted me every time I glanced at my broken mirror.
The grotesque image of my body stared back as I donned my business suit—a monochrome gray three-piece ensemble.
I traced my fingers over the tattoos on my calves and thighs, lost in thought about the day Marriane and Thomas revealed my altered appearance.
"She's awake!" Marriane's voice cut through the haze, her hand gently clasping mine.
"That's a relief!" Thomas' voice followed, accompanied by the sound of approaching footsteps.
My eyes fluttered open, but my vision was blurry and uncertain. I blinked repeatedly until their faces began to take shape.
"Hello there~" Marriane greeted me with a warm smile, though I felt like a zombie.
I looked around and realized I was in a rustic cabin. The walls and floor were pinewood, and a stuffed deer head with sprawling antlers adorned the room.
"Where am I? Who are these people?" My mind raced in panic, which quickly turned into hysteria.
"Shhhhhh! It's alright, child! We are not bad people. We are your allies, not your enemies. You're safe here," Thomas's calm, reassuring voice cut through my fear. Though I slowly began to calm down, the terror remained.
The sight of myself—covered in bandages like a mummy, blood seeping through every wrap—caused me to panic anew. I gave them a pleading look.
"When we found you on the riverbank that morning, we thought you were dead," Thomas explained. "Considering the bruises and torn flesh, it was a miracle you were still alive."
I tried to speak, but something was stopping me. Marriane seemed to read my mind.
"I'm sorry. Your right facial skin was torn from your lips to your ear and cheekbone. We had to stitch it up," she said, her voice heavy with sympathy.
"No!" my mind screamed. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to move, but the bandages restrained me, leaving me feeling helpless.
"But… that's not what matters now! What matters is that you're alive. You've been given another chance—to live and to seek justice," Thomas said, his tone filled with resolve.
"Hush now, child. You need your strength back!" Marriane said gently before they left, leaving me with a whirlwind of unanswered questions.
For six long months, I recovered. The surgeries were grueling—muscle grafts to my left calf to restore my balance after necrosis had set in from a torn muscle during my escape.
Once the surgeries were over, I chose to cover my scars with tattoos. I selected two mythical creatures to mark my transformation. A multi-colored Chinese water dragon coiled from my left ankle up to my chest, appearing to embrace me tenderly as it rested its head near my heart. On my back, a gold and red phoenix was rising from furious flames.
People who saw the tattoos were struck by their beauty, unaware of the pain and suffering they concealed—pain that I had tried to mask with time and ink.