Page 14 of Stains of Desire

Time passes. Zoe and I assume it's been a year, but neither of us are sure. One night, Santiago's men storm into our room and drag us out. They shove us into a vehicle. We drive for days, and when we finally stop and get out, we're in the jungle.

A teenage boy slides a ladder into a hole. "Get in." His voice cracks from puberty.

We climb down into our new home. The pit is cold and dirty, but when I get to the bottom, a flight attendant I recognize runs over and hugs Zoe. "Zoe, thank God. I thought you were dead!"

Zoe politely smiles. "I'm okay. And you are?"

"I'm Julieta." Hurt crosses her face. "You don't remember me?"

Zoe's smile widens. "I'm sorry. Were you backstage at one of my concerts?"

Zoe must have been too high to remember her.

Julieta's hurt turns to disgust.

"I'm sorry. I have a lot of performances and meet dozens of people a night after each show. I hope you're okay...since you're here and all?"

A deep line forms between Julieta's eyes, and she frowns.

I clear my throat. "I'm Penelope. But we've met before. You probably don't remember me. I was on—"

She smiles. "The flight to Guatemala. Yes, I remember you. I'm glad you're alive, too."

"You two were on the same flight? What a coincidence!" Zoe beams.

Julieta tilts her head. "You were on several of my flights as well."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm a flight attendant."

Zoe closes her eyes, embarrassed. "I apologize. I... I—"

"It's fine. Don't worry about it." Julieta walks over to the wall and sits.

Zoe and I follow.

"How long have you been here?" Zoe asks.

"Not sure. Several months," Julieta replies.

"In this pit?" Zoe cries out.

Her voice lowers. "Yeah. But it's better than being with Jonas Torres."

For several months, we're held in the pit. The only time we're allowed out is to wash and shave in the river. On the first day, Julieta tries to hide her back, but the thugs make her turn to them.

Zoe and I stare in horror at the six-inch-long J and T branded into her back.

"Oh my God. What did he do to you?" Zoe blurts out.

"Wash faster," the thug yells.

"Julieta, what happened?" I ask.

"I'm not talking about it," she says.

"But—"