2025-06-08 22:40:45
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Chapter 69
He watched the hall at the Donxiote mansion, a hall that he typically occupied for political inaugurations and nights spent in high society costume shops. It was filled to capacity, and draped in white, with sweeps of white silk. The lighting was from hundreds of fairy lights; the green was slowly bathed in the soft light of hundreds of lights twisted together into thousands of little flowers. Lilies, their heavy scent, wholly sweet and delicious, filled the air, the fragrance combined with the slightest hint of beeswax polish and expensive champagne. A long aisle laid down of ivory went straight to a pedestal stand with huge white roses and the flickering candelabras. It seemed an image for a fairytale.Nevertheless for Sarah it was the descent into a living nightmare.She stood at the threshold of the ballroom, dazzling in her exquisite white dress, and almost suffocating in its tightness. All of the delicate lace, the delicate beadwork, the long flowing veil, all were exquisite, ma
Chapter 68
The air in the poor looking motel room was thick, suffocating, a cloud of decaying cigarette smoke and cheap disinfectant spread over the carpet, and the bitter smell of despair. The fluorescent light over the bed was blinking orange, sickly yellow on the peeling wallpaper and the blood stained carpet. Roland sat on the edge of the unmade bed, the gun cold on his hand, its metallic scent a strange enemy to the sweet liquor-laced sweetness of the empty bottle of whiskey beside him.The humiliation of the Donxiote mansion, the physical pain of Domingo’s brutal lesson, and he had the agony of seeing Sarah’s death -- all of that swelled into a surging misery that gripped him, took away his breath. He was a fail. A piece of wood in a game that he could not win. He was a failure. A pawn in a game he couldn’t win.He thought of Sarah, her pale face, her forced acceptance of a fate worse than death. “Marry me, Sarah.” The words echoed in his mind, a cruel, mocking refrain. He had promised to
Chapter 67
The hospital wing in the Donxiote mansion was a case of worlds colliding. Outside, a dark & opulent life buzzed about the mansion; inside this very sleek hotel an awful silence lay over the place, interrupted by the clanging *beep-beep-beep* of the medical monitors and that clumsy but at times unobtrusive noise of an oxygen machine. It was a quiet place, spotlessly clean, slightly antiseptic and smelling of something metallic – to Sarah, perhaps a mist of fear or simply the cold reality of modern medical equipment. Sarah had found her new prison, a bright cage with views of her father’s slow & agonizing struggle.She laid down by his bed, holding a white pillar of despair in her hand, then swallowed by his, which lay pale and limp on the crisp white sheet. His face once always ruddy and full of life had become ashen, the track of pain with an arrow drawn through each line. A clear tube ascended down his nose, carrying a steady flow of oxygen, and an IV drip, an invisible stream of a c
Chapter 66
It seemed as if the air at the Donxiote mansion was no longer only tension, but weighted, cloudy and heavy with an oppressive silence which seemed to take out all sound, all hope. Sarah sensed it gripping her, that sort of sacklike creepiness that wrapped itself around her like a drape and tightened with every breath. She moved through the grand rooms of the mansion like a ghost, her steps obscured by thick Persian rugs and her gaze far away. She had tried to talk to her father, to find a way out, to breathe new life into the spark of defiance that had once embodied him. But his spirit seemed dead, his eyes empty, his answers one word after another. He was just a shell, weighted down by the weight of Domingo.Domingo, however, was not done with his lessons. He never was.The door was bolted shut, and a guard arrived. “Mr. Donxiote wants to see you and your father in his study. ”The words were polite, but the tone very sour. Sarah heard one more blast of ice running through her veins.
Chapter 65
Domingo came out of his chair – his movements unhurried, careful. He approached Roland – the precious leather soles of his expensive shoes rubbing furtively against the marble floor – each step like a hammer hitting Sarah’s heart. He drew near to Roland’s foresightless frame, extended a foot forward – his well-polished custom-made shoe hanged over the top of his head.“You thought you would be able to fight me? ” Domingo muttered, his voice low and full of poison. He lodged his foot on Roland’s head and grinded it into the marble with all intents and purposes. “You are nothing, you are a common street dog. And you will learn your lesson. .Sarah cried out, a strangled sound of pure anguish, her chair scraping loudly as she pushed back. “Stop it! Please, stop!” She started to rush forward, her hands outstretched, but her father’s hand shot out, gripping her arm like an iron vise.““Don’t Sarah! ” he whispered, his voice ringing with desperate need to be heard. “There is no point in it!
Chapter 64
One morning the grand dining room of the Donxiote mansion, where feasts and secret meetings had been held for many centuries, seemed less important than the gladiatorial arena in which it lay. A vast moat of tall arched windows shone through which the polished marble floor twinkled with silver and crystal, gleaming off the long mahogany table adorned with an elegant pewter pedestal. But that morning the allure was cold and alien; the atmosphere was gilded with coldness, a glass cage set to impress and to intimidate.At its top there sat Domingo Donxiote a king in an exquisite pose, nearly indifferent, but his eyes, sharp and calculated, read nothing in him. He played with a silver spoon, the first sound echoing in the darkness.They sat stiffly across from him, Sarah and her father, their chairs more like torture devices than anything comfortable, though Sarah’s face was pale; her eyes misty, while her flesh was stark. The bloody despair was just etched into her features with every mi
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