"Mother, please," I said in between sobs, "I don't want to do this." Mother was dragging me to the clinic, completely ignoring my plea. She doesn't know anything about me, about how much I hate the doctor, needles, and being put in a white room. But I couldn't fight her, she really wanted me to do this. As she pulled me into the clinic and forced me down into a seat, I began to muffle my cries. I looked around at the other girls who did not even notice me; they were too busy trying to be unnoticed. I kept wishing my father was still here. I began to cry even more and felt my heart beating faster than normal. My palms began to sweat, and my face was heating up, my mouth was getting dry so I looked around for some water.
Why can't I find any water? I just wanted to leave. Run away and never come back. My mother returned from the receptionists' desk and sat down, without a word.
"Mother," I began to cry, "Why are you angry with me? This isn't even my fault-"
"I won't discuss this now," mother said as lowly and forcefully as she could. I could feel my nerves loosening throughout my entire body. Everything began to spin, and my head suddenly began to hurt. The last thing I can remember is falling to the ground. Mother screaming for my name.
I know she means well. She is only trying to protect me. She won't even let me listen to alternative rock because she thinks it's too violent and sexual. I just wish I could be my own person and lead my own life for once. She wants me to become a model without the thought that once I make enough money, I'll be gone for good. I'd rather be anywhere but with her. I love my mother, but I can't forgive her.
I still remember the first time it happened. The first time she sold me out to that pervert. She tries to make it seem like it never happened, and I thought at first it was to make me feel better about it, but after a long time I realized it was to make herself feel better about selling her daughter. It wasn't until I met him that I started to realize all these things. Not having a social life, having strict rules to keep me away from people, and not even allowing me to have a love life; it was all to protect her. It wasn't until I met him, that I finally wanted to trust a man again. My mother became a pimp, making me want to hate men for the rest of my life...
But then he looked at me; as if he was trying to read my soul and heart's desires.
As I wake up, I feel so numb and tired. My body is sore, and my tongue feels like cotton against the roof of my mouth. I get up slowly from the bed and see him sleeping atop my bedside, with my hand in his. I slowly reach out my hand and softly touch his, making him pop his eyes open in surprise. I muster a smile, but everything feels so sore, I can barely move.
"Hey..." Jacque finally says with a raspy voice, "You okay?" I attempt a nod, but fail miserably. Jacque understands and gets up from his chair. He walks over towards a small sink and grabs the manila-colored pitcher of ice water and pours it into a plastic cup. He grabs a straw off the same tray, and hands me the cup. I can sense he is a little irritated as I take sips of the water little by little into my mouth. I begin to feel better and can finally speak.
"How long was I out?" I ask more timidly than I wanted. Jacque is looking out the window of the room on my right, taking a long time to answer.
"Sixteen hours," Jacque finally answers, "It's almost five in the morning on Sunday."
"I-I'm..." I want to say I'm sorry, but Jacque turns to me with a stern look, like the ones my father use to give me. "I-I don't know what to say," I say as I look down at my lap. I know I swore to tell him everything, but I wanted to wait just a little longer before telling him about this. It's not something that's easy to explain. I hear the door open and a beautiful woman, with black hair, like Jacques', walks in and smiles at me. Jacque turns to look at her and greets her with a warm hug.
"Natalie," Jacque says to me, with the same hard look, "This is Gloria Ramos, my mother."
"U-um, Nice to meet you," I struggle to say, I try to lift myself up and Jacque stops me.
"It's lovely to meet you, too," Gloria says with a present accent, "I've heard quite a lot about you."
"Nothing bad, I hope."
"Well," Gloria looks down then up towards Jacque, who is still emanating his anger, "I wouldn't say all bad." I feel so alone in this moment, like the world is against me, and I want to cry. "Jacque has explained to me what is going on, and I want to help you."
"You told your mother?" I indirectly asked, fury building up inside me, "You told her everything?"
"Not everything," Jacque says it like a warning, and I begin to calm down.
"I hope you will trust me enough someday to tell me everything, but," Gloria takes a chair from behind her and pulls it up to sit next to me, "I am a doctor of psychology, and I want to help you."
"I don't know," I can feel his cold stare even though I can't see him, even from my peripheral sight. Gloria sighs softly then reaches for my hand, and I stiffen in her touch.
"I am glad to finally have a daughter-in-law, you have been through so much, please allow me to help you." I take a deep breath and look over to Jacque who is leaning against the wall, still with a cold stare.
"Alright," I finally say, "But please keep this between us, my mother-"
"I've already taken care of that," Jacque breaks the tension in the room with his calming voice, and I want to burst into tears again. He has a power over me that I can't figure out. Like when my father was alive, I always had a sense of vulnerability, as if I could cry and complain, and feel at ease. "Your mother threatened to call the police if I hadn't told her where you were," I feel my heart tighten after he says this, " I called her and notified her that you are my wife, and she can no longer control you."
"B-but how did you convince her not to call the police?" He smiles wickedly, staring at the window next to my bed, remembering the memory fondly.
"I told her that her secret will be safe with me as long as she keeps quiet."
I grip the blankets tightly in my hands, knowing fully well that the love of my life has no idea what my mother is capable of and what she can and will do to him in order to keep me in her grasp as well as our secret. He keeps his smile on me, which relaxes me. It makes me think that maybe everything will be okay.
I only hope I'm not wrong.