All the shock of what had almost happened hit me hard on Friday of that same week. Maybe it was an answer from my subconscious to the questions that the wide-smile and distant-looking psychologist asked me. I didn't mind memorizing your name, since I was determined not to receive any other consultation after hearing your initial words. "You shouldn't feel guilty," she said, "Gary Swan shouldn't touch her even if you were naked. It's not your fault."I didn't have the courage to say that I didn't feel guilty. I felt hate. This reached a level above all that clinical litany, and I knew that if I proclaimed aloud for the millionth time that Gary Swan should be dead, my own sanity would be put to the test.The doctor wrote down in a little block when I lied about feeling nothing but physical discomfort, even so, she tried to convince me that I had no responsibility about having entered the path of a psychopath, saying that justice would be done "both to me, and to so many other victims st
"you at least use the number he gave you?I blinked hard, but I didn't dare to move my head towards Kendall. I was feeling a pain in the corner of my eyes, probably caused by insomnia, and that intensified at any movement in the upper part of my body. I just nodded with one hand, discarding the subject. My friend snorted and pulled the beige bag off my lap, searching between coins and keys until she found my cell phone. She returned me the bag and pulled one of my fingers to release access, without wasting time, searched my contact list and logged."Hi, I need you to return this call. It's urgent.She hung up and put her cell phone on my lap, still unlocked. I shook my head slightly, pushing away a dizziness, but I didn't try to pick up my cell phone when a curve made him slide over my long skirt and slip to Kendall's naked legs.Precisely because of my physical condition, Tyler Campbell gave me time off from work. I didn't know what Kendall had done to achieve the same, however, I was
Approximately forty minutes later " considering the amount of cars in traffic" the sea came into focus, skirting the feet of the city like a carpet designed by the gods. Even when we went down on the pier, knowing that much of the trip would still take an absurd time to be calculated, the sovereignty that exhaled from each small wave below us was like a calming effect. Kendall and Tristan were not intimidated to pay attention to what my father and another man were talking about; maritime instructions, I noticed.The speedboat that would take us home was huge, and due to my father's familiarity, I was sure that he would have driven something similar someday, even if he was not the captain on our journey. I led myself to the bow, taking Kendall with me, and we sank into the benches that surrounded the vessel. Tristan and my father went to the cabin, and the man who was helping them returned to the pier, throwing a small nod that only Kendall responded to.I tried to ignore the nervousne
"You French people exaggerate too much," I grumbled, crossing my arms. "In fact, you shouldn't even know what happened.I didn't wait for Lizzie's reaction, and I had the impression of hearing a bad word with her loaded French accent. I had to sigh to contain a scream. That place would never be my home.The steep path that led us to the huge house with a marble facade was long. We passed through villages and houses as my sister ran, citing the weddings of old neighbors and professional successes of the lives of others. She seemed uncomfortable when she said she worked in a nightclub, saving her the detail that it didn't make me a call girl or something like that. My grandmother, however, just stretched her body through the space between the two front seats and hit me lightly on the leg, saying:"A firm ass must be very well used, ma chérie.We parked in front of a house with walls shaded by copper roofs, and ivy trees that stood out of the garden on the other side. I registered each t
My cell phone played a constant whistle as I balanced myself on the bed with the heavy suitcase. Kendall had just entered the bathroom of the room we would share, and sang louder and louder a song that existed only in her wrong language. At the first moment we entered the room with pink walls, completely foldered floor, and padded and angled backrest bed, next to nightstands that merged with the same pale color of each piece of furniture scattered over the amplitude of the room, we were in shock.My closet was the same as in childhood, only two doors attached to the left wall, surmounted by golden notches. Everything was too clear for me. Too childish for my personality, and I almost threw up when I noticed the floral print quilts.There was a dressing table in the corner of the room, next to the huge window covered by pink curtains. The chair in front of a small face mirror was soft and with spirals drawn on the backrest, as if it had been handmade.We had been locked in that room sin
A spark of what seemed to be pity appeared in his eyes for a second. "I know that the feeling of guilt is overwhelming, but I can guarantee that it will pass. "He slid one of his fingers over his lower lip gently. "When you come back, maybe I can teach you how to release anger, without killing someone. "I laughed, unintentionally, and he added: "With no ulterior motives, just a way to defend yourself. Better this way?I let out a whistle, trying not to sound like the high school that seemed to be interpreting. "I would never be able to fight a man, Zachary. Look at my size! I mean, the lack of size.He laughed, loud and genuine. I gave you another smile. I would admit to anyone who asked that that conversation was being the only thing in days that brought me smiles and laughter. Zachary didn't need to know about this fact."First rule, Camila. "He raised one of his fingers. "Size will never define practice. You must know that.It took me a while to understand, and I even fell my head t
The city was stained with pink and gold, bathed in the dull light of the sun that disappeared before meeting the greenish waters of the Seine River. I just sat at the table where the gentle waiter with reddish cheeks suggested with a gesture of head, and absorbed the most banal behavior that pedestrians on Rue des Francs Bourgeois had. Someone laughed next to my table, and I realized how strong the Parisian accent was, differentiating them from the other French.I turned the contents in my cup of coffee, causing small swirls in the strong drink softened by milk, and sighed, happy to feel so comfortable in miles away from the people who stained the image I had of my country of origin. It was as if the fresh air mixed with the candy of each confectionery around the length of that street could replace the smell of salt, lemon and verbena that Cannes had.Couples crossed the sidewalk commenting vigorously on random subjects. Single people passed in front of glazed stores and admired the i
I didn't dare think too long about anything, fearing spending hours with my brain on fire for questions that didn't deserve an answer: How many times was that woman devoured by her vivid memories? How many times did she wish the death of the one who had ruined her? Would you have been able to forgive him?I carefully observed the features forged on his pale skin, slightly flushed at strategic points. She had a beautiful smile, although a wide scar interrupted the side of her lower lip. His hair curled below his shoulders, shining in platinum strands. He wore a weak makeup, highlighting his lips by a discreet red.My eyes evaluated the midnight blue dress that wrapped around her thin waist and exposed her thick thighs. There were folds on the skirt of the dress; not enough to leave it full, just a way to cut the straight length. The neckline consisted of a triangular shape, although the sleeves were long and lacy. She pushed away her sunglasses and kept them in her bag, slightly raisin