Senorita's heart pounded like a frightened animal trapped in a cage within her chest.
The dreadful realization that Miguel had locked the door, leaving her cornered and vulnerable, sent a spine-chilling shiver down her spine. She felt like a prey in the sights of a relentless predator, with no escape.
Each step Miguel took towards her, his smile devoid of warmth and his eyes cold and calculating, intensified her fear. "You see, Rita, you can't escape me. Not anymore."
Senorita's mind raced, desperately searching for an escape route. The thought of enduring more abuse, especially now that she carried their child, was unbearable. Her trembling fingers fumbled with the lock, and her heart raced with fear.
"Please, Miguel, let me go. We can talk, but not like this," Senorita pleaded, her voice quivering.
Miguel's cruel laughter sent shivers down her spine, and his face twisted into a sinister grin.
Suddenly, he grabbed her fragile shoulder and tugged at the string of her nightgown, attempting to undress her. In her struggle to break free, the string tore, causing the neckline of her gown to fall lower, exposing more of her cleavage.
"Talk? Senorita, you've talked enough. It's time you learn your place," he hissed menacingly as he advanced towards her.
In an instinctive act of self-preservation, Senorita seized a heavy vase from a nearby table and swung it at Miguel with all her might. The vase collided with his shoulder, causing him to stagger back with a pained grunt.
Without wasting a moment, Senorita sprinted towards the door and fumbled with the lock, her trembling hands finally managing to free her. With a surge of adrenaline, she burst into the corridor, her heart pounding like a drum.
Miguel, recovering swiftly, roared with rage, "You can't run from me, Rita!"
Senorita didn't dare glance back.
She sprinted down the corridor, putting as much distance as possible between herself and Miguel.
Panic gripped her, but she knew she had to escape, not just for her sake but for the life growing inside her.
As she reached the front door, Senorita hesitated for only a moment. She flung it open and rushed outside into the night.
Her breath came in ragged gasps, and tears streamed down her face as she ran, her mind a chaotic whirlwind of fear, determination, and uncertainty.
Senorita had eluded Miguel's clutches, but she was now alone in the world, carrying the weight of her past and the uncertain future of her unborn child. Her journey to seek justice and reclaim her life was her sole focus.
Under the dark canopy of the night, she ran, unsure of her destination or who she could turn to for help. Exhausted, she finally stopped, her body pleading for rest.
Surveying her surroundings, she noticed a small open bar nearby. Desiring a place to rest and perhaps beg for a night's refuge, she made her way to the bar.
Although there were only a few patrons, Senorita found a quiet corner and observed her surroundings, her vision blurred.
The bar seemed to offer a temporary respite, but a nagging question lingered in her mind: should she seek refuge with her brother-in-law? The thought flitted through her thoughts, but she knew better than to risk it. Meeting him might only provoke Miguel further.
Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was still vulnerable in the same city, easily found if Miguel chose to pursue her.
And another thought crept to her, 'Is it the right time to start the search for me? My university seems not far from this place but I don't have transport fare. And also, I need to find my mother and explain who I really am to her. Sure, she must recognize her own daughter. But... I don't know if it's the right time, I don't want to lose this opportunity of another lifetime.'
As she sat in her corner, lost in thought, her eyes landed on a pair of strangely familiar men dressed in suits. They had been sitting nearby and were now talking to the hostess before exiting the bar.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she checked to see if they had left their bottle unfinished.
Glancing around, Senorita approached their table and reached for the bottle. A sudden impulse took hold of her, and she decided to take a sip, thinking, "A small beer won't hurt, will it?"
"Yes, it won't," she answered herself, and without further hesitation, she brought the bottle to her lips and drank directly from it.
"Bitter... yet oddly sweet," she mused aloud. A bitter chuckle escaped her lips as she continued, "The kind of life the real Senorita lived and still...live. Miguel would beat her when he was angry, but when he was pleased, he'd treat her like a precious gem."
"What a foolish life."
As Senorita sat in the dimly lit corner of the bar, her emotions swirled like a tempest within her.
The adrenaline-fueled escape from Miguel's clutches had left her shaken, and the uncertainty of her future weighed heavily on her heart.
She knew that running away was only the first step; there was still a long journey ahead.
With each passing moment, Senorita contemplated her next move. She had severed ties with her abusive husband, but she had no place to call home.
Her mind raced with thoughts of where she could find refuge, but the options seemed scarce.
The night outside was eerily quiet, with only the distant hum of traffic and the occasional whisper of the wind. Senorita couldn't help but feel the isolation of her situation.
She was alone in this vast, unforgiving city, and the burden of her past actions and her unborn child's future weighed heavily on her shoulders.
The bottle she had taken a sip from was now nearly empty, and Senorita couldn't help but contemplate the bitter irony of her life.
She had once been a vibrant and independent woman before the tragic incident, and now she found herself seeking solace in the bottom of a bottle, haunted by memories of abuse and the choices that had led her here.
As Senorita rested her weary head on the table, the alcohol coursed through her veins, casting a soothing numbness over her troubled mind. Her senses were dulled, and the dimly lit bar seemed to cocoon her in a haze of solitude.
In this state of semi-intoxication, Senorita's awareness was momentarily jolted back to reality by a stern voice that demanded her attention. She raised her head slowly, her vision blurry, and two imposing figures came into focus.
"Young Miss, what are you doing here?" one of them inquired sharply.
Senorita blinked, trying to steady herself as she stammered, "I... I..."
The other man interrupted with a tone of exasperation, "This table has already been occupied. Honestly, Mr. Qin, this is why I suggested we go to a more upscale establishment. How can a stranger just waltz in and help herself to our bottle? It's preposterous!"
Senorita, feeling embarrassed and uncertain, attempted to explain, "I had no money to pay, and since it looked like leftovers..."
The second man, apparently named Davis, seemed inclined to leave, but Mr. Qin, the other man, had a different idea.
"Excuse me, Davis," Mr. Qin interjected, his gaze fixed on Senorita. "I'd like to have a word with this lady." He turned to the man who was still hesitating about leaving, "ALONE."