“You use your body as a weapon, as all women do.”
I shake my head, saying, “I don’t.”
He nods. “Yes, you do. You’re very confident, Daria, in your allure.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the switchblade. The knife pops out.
“No!” I try to pull away from him, but his grip is iron tight.
He holds me against the vehicle, gripping my face in his hand. He takes the knife and slices into my skin. I follow the movements, painful as they are. I’m crying, sobbing. He tells me to shut up. I don’t know what he’s carved into my forehead, but glad that he hasn’t taken my eyes. He turns me around so I can see my reflection in the window. WHORE: One word, one judgment, branded into my skin, forever.
“No one will want you now, Daria,” he says, softly, as if it pained him to punish me for my wickedness.
I spin, fast, and take the blade from his hand. I swipe the tip of the blade, back and forth, across my forehead, erasing his brand. Blood is gushing from my head. It covers my hands, the blade. I feel bits of my skin, flapping with the cool night breeze.
He snatches the knife from me, wiping my blood off onto his pants, before pocketing it.
“God, you’re a mess,” he says. I don’t think he’s talking about my face.
He hauls me towards the back of the vehicle, and retrieves a first aid kit. He forces me to sit, while he cleans my wounds, applies ointment, and finally, a bandage.
“Why do you care?”I say, sniffling.
“I don’t want blood on my upholstery.”
He binds my hands again, behind my back. “So you won’t be tempted,” he says, knowing I’d try to rip the bandage off, and bleed all over, just to spite him.
He’s threatening me with the knife again. “I can take your tongue, or you’ll be gagged. Which one?” he asks.
“Gag,” I say.
“Good girl,” he says, and stuffs a rag into my mouth.
He positions me inside the car, in the backseat. I’m strapped in, secured. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not speaking.
He sighs and kisses my cheek. “This could’ve been easier, Daria. Why are you so defiant?” he asks, although he knows I can’t answer—and doesn’t care, keeping me gagged, silent.
He takes his seat up front and turns over the engine. He doesn’t move. He looks at me from the rearview mirror.
“I’m going to kill your friend. Gabriel is going to die. And I’m going to live forever. It is revenge, revenge for my ancestor, Daria. I can’t fail him. I’m determined, and no one will get in my way.”
My eyes must have spoken for me. He answers my question. “I don’t know.”
He’s unsure if he’s going to kill me. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Do I want to live in a world where Camilla and Gabriel are dead? Where Emilio is immortal? Fate is cruel. It’s sayonara, Daria, whatever the outcome may be.
I close my eyes and drift away, again, hoping, praying that I won’t awaken.
The Fountain of Youth
I’m in Heaven. My eyes are closed, but I see a bright light shining down upon me. But it hurts. I hurt. This can’t be Heaven. It must be Hell. I open my eyes. It’s the sun, its rays extending through a large hole in the ceiling—but the ceiling of what? I take in my surroundings. It looks to be a cave. Where am I?
I hear water falling, drip…drip…drip. I’m lying next to a massive pool of clear water. The cave is gray with water trickling down between the cracks, flowing over green vegetation. Sprouting from the leaves are blooming white flowers. It’s so beautiful. I must be in Heaven.
It’s enormous. I see open tunnels, dark trails. It looks scary. Maybe I’m not in Heaven, after all. Or perhaps the tunnels lead into Hell. Who knew Heaven and Hell were adjacent?
I’m cold, freezing. I’m still wearing my camisole and skirt. I wish I’d gone to the Fall Dance in a bulky sweater and jeans. I’m wet too. My clothes are clinging to my skin. I’m so uncomfortable. I want to rip my clothes off, but stay my hands. My hair is partially wet, now drying thanks to the sun.
I rise, trying to steady my balance. I’ve been hit and abused so many times. I’m surprised I’m still whole. I lift my hand and feel my forehead. The bandage is gone and my wounds are, as well. No more scratches. My skin feels smooth, flawless.
“You’re welcome.”
I turn and see Emilio, exiting from one of the dark tunnels, entering the cave. His voice echoes. I back away, remembering where the pool is. I don’t want to fall in. Is it the pool—the Fountain of Youth? Still, I retreat. I’m scared, despite its ability to grant immortality. What if it recognizes me as an intruder and boils me alive? Anything can happen in a magic pool.
“Thank you,” I say. “What am I thanking you for?”
He advances and points at my forehead. “Your wound is healed.”
“I noticed. How—what did you do?”
He gestures towards the pool. “The waters restored you.”
I look down at my semi-wet body. “You threw me in the pool?!”
“No,” he says, agitated. “You fell out into the ocean on the way here. Once I got you into the cave and near the pool, I dunked your head in. I was worried it might be booby trapped, as my ancestor thought. Acid, perhaps, so, I used you a guinea pig.” He smiles. “Lucky you—and me, it wasn’t.”
I growl. “Fuck you.”
He smiles. “You already did that, senorita—twice. Pity there won’t be a third.”
I ignore this, and say, “I fell out into the ocean? Which ocean, where are we?”
“You fell out of the boat and into the Atlantic, you idiot, and we’re off the coast of Florida.”
“In a cave,” I say.
“In a cave,” he confirms, and then gestures towards the pool. “The Fountain of Youth—isn’t it beautiful?”
“Why don’t you dip your toe in it?” I say, hoping to push him in.
He wags his finger at me. “I don’t think so. There’s no point in going for a swim—not until Gabriel’s last descendant is sacrificed,” he reminds me, casually speaking.
I look around, frantic. “Where’s Camilla?”
“Gabriel is bringing her,” he says, smiling.
“What?”
“I called Gabriel, told him that I was holding you prisoner, threatening your life, blah, blah, blah, and that if he wanted his darling Daria safe, he’d bring me Camilla.” He pauses, and then continues, “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him we fucked.”
“Gabriel would never trade Camilla for me! And you raped me—twice!”
Emilio advances, angry. “You were begging for it!”
I retreat, minding the pool. “Words of a rapist,” I say.
He advances again and grabs my arm. I see a shadow, in the distance, and scream.
“Let her go!”
The voice booms, ricochets off the cave walls. It’s Gabriel. I’m saved.
Emilio refuses to let me go, tightening his grip. He turns towards Gabriel, using me as a shield. “Did you bring the girl?”
“No,” says Gabriel, advancing towards us.
Emilio grabs my neck with one hand, tight. “I’ll kill her,” he threatens. “You were supposed to bring the girl, we exchange, and then you die, and then I kill Daria. It’s fucking simple!”
I look into Gabriel’s blue eyes, like the ocean. He smells of sun-baked sand. Oh, how I’ve missed him. He looks into my eyes, giving me hope, anchoring me to him. I try to flee from Emilio’s grasp, but I’m too weak, and he’s too strong.
“I liked it when you squirmed before, Daria,” he says loudly, “but not now. Daddy’s trying to think.”
Gabriel looks between me and Emilio. “What happened?” he asks me.
“He—“
Emilio cuts me off. “He did nothing. It was all her doing.” He lifts up my skirt, exposing me. I notice blood for the first time. “She was begging to have me inside her. She went on about how much she loved being a whore, loved getting on her kn
ees—just like Isabel, right Gabriel? How much cock do you think that nun sucked while on her knees, before the Cross, huh?”
Gabriel growls. He’s ferocious, mad. I’ve never seen him so bloodthirsty before, as he flies towards Emilio. But my captor is ready. He reveals the knife, its blade against my throat.
“I’ll fucking do it, Gabriel! You’ve given me no choice now that you’ve failed to bring the girl. I’ll kill Daria. I’ll cut you up so bad that you’ll be in a coma for weeks, and then guess what? I’ll snatch Camilla from her bed, fuck her, and then take her here, spilling her blood, and then fuck her again before I take the plunge and gain not only immorality, but revenge. It’s my Plan B.”
Gabriel restrains himself. “I’ll bring Camilla. I will. You don’t have to kill Daria.”
“Tick-tock,” says Emilio, still holding the knife to my throat. “We’ll just wait here.” Emilio grabs my behind and squeezes. I squeal in pain. He laughs, taunting Gabriel. “See? A squealer, our Daria is.”
Gabriel turns to leave. “No,” I scream out. “Gabriel, don’t!”
He looks at me over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, mi amor.”
In a flash, Gabriel is advancing towards Emilio. I’m caught in the melee, and Emilio, deciding to let me go, does, but with a push. I’m falling. Gabriel is focused on Emilio, and grabs his hand, the one with the knife. They are struggling. I keep falling. The cave is spinning. My mind is spinning. I’m lost.
I’ll Love You Forever
I collide with something wet, hard. I’m descending, down, down, down, into a cold, dark abyss. The last thing I see, before I’m gone, is Emilio stabbing Gabriel.
Death is funny. I feel alive. Isn’t that strange?
Someone is kissing me. He smells like sun-baked sand. I open my eyes and cough my lungs up, expelling water.
“Oh, thank goodness,” says Gabriel, leaning over me.
“Where am I?” I ask.
“In the cave, still,” he says.
I notice he’s wet—then I look for a wound.
“Emilio stabbed you,” I say.
“I healed, don’t worry—and you don’t have to worry about Emilio—ever again.”
Gabriel lifts me up, cradling me to his side. I see Emilio’s body, a few feet away. He’s covered in blood.
“What happened?” I ask.
“I killed him,” says Gabriel, without emotion. “I took the knife away from him, and I kept stabbing until my arms were covered in blood, my face a mask of red.” No smile is upon his face, yet he speaks triumphantly. A duel won, savagely, necessary.
“Good,” I say. I look at the Fountain. “You’re still immortal?”
“Still,” he confirms.
I shiver and Gabriel holds me tighter against him. I lean my head onto his shoulder.
“Is it over?” I ask, hoping.
“It’s over,” he says.
We linger, not moving, rigid as the cave itself, although given time and the elements, we too will crumble and fall. I find myself entranced by the Fountain of Youth. It’s a myth, a tale told, believed and not—a dream for mankind—immortality. It isn’t a dream. It’s true—but the pool only gives its favor upon one soul. How fortunate or rather, unfortunate, for Gabriel to be that one soul. How frightening that if his descendent, Camilla, were to be sacrificed upon its cool waters, his blessing, his curse, would come to an end. And the Fountain, once again, could be entered, its favor granted, upon a desperate soul, seeking immortality, revenge, and other dark designs. I wonder what other secrets the Fountain of Youth held.
I’m able to move and turn towards Gabriel. “Take me home.”
We leave, walking past Emilio’s dead body. I wish he were still alive so I could kill him again.
Something grabs my ankle. I gasp and turn, seeing Emilio. He’s still alive. The cave floor is slippery. I fall and collide with Emilio. His hand falls onto me, a knife in it, and the blade plunges deep into my heart. I cry out in pain. Gabriel is at my side, holding his hand to my bleeding heart. I manage to turn my head and see Emilio take his last dying breath, a smile upon his face.
“Daria,” Gabriel calls to me, panicking.
“Gabriel,” I say, so soft, so weak. “I love you.”
He shakes his head. “No, don’t say goodbye, Daria!” He’s crying. “Don’t leave me!”
I hear my heart, slowing: bum-bum, bum-bum, bum…bum…bum.
I close my eyes and hear Gabriel praying. My heart takes its last beat.
I open my eyes to see Gabriel, smiling. I’m lying on the cave floor.
“What?” I say, and sit up.
He’s grinning like mad. “Daria, you’re alive.”
I feel my heart. It’s beating. “Yeah, I gathered that. Why?”
He pulls me off the cave floor. I feel…great. What’s going on?
“I didn’t know if it was true or not,” says Gabriel, reading my thoughts. “But now I do.”
“What’s true?”
He’s excited, speaking quickly. “After I gained my immortality, I was distraught, thinking that as I would never age, others that I loved would. I couldn’t bring them to the fountain because it only worked once. The natives told me that it was a sacred place—they didn’t dare to go in there. It was reserved for the gods, but the rumor of eternal life persisted. Men, like De la Vega, didn’t believe that it was restricted to mortals. He thought that the natives were lying so that no one would disturb their sacred place.”
“What does this have to do with me not being dead?”
“Well, they told me something that De la Vega didn’t know. It was written that someone, a mortal, a sinner like all men, would be allowed the gift of the gods—immortality. A sinner is redeemed, the water purifies. And if the legends are true, in his redemption, he can even glimpse upon the faces of the gods, and behold the Heavenly realm.”
“And that was you, the sinner?” I ask. The gods were beneficial, yet cruel. They bestowed immortality, yet condoned sacrifice.
“Well, I think that anyone could. The Fountain’s powers only worked once, but Emilio found a way to bring the Fountain to life again. Only it involved a human sacrifice, my descendant Camilla, who came from the birth of Esperanza, my wife.”
It feels like my heart is being stabbed again. I forgot about Esperanza, his child.
“Gabriel, do you love me because I remind you of Isabel?” I say, remembering his true love, the nun.
Gabriel gathers me in his arms. “Daria, I love you. You’re my soulmate.”
I shrug in his arms. “How do you know it’s me?”
“The natives told me that if a mortal is allowed to gain eternal life from the fountain, not only has he received a rare gift and blessing, but there’s an extra benefit. The gods believe in love, Daria. They believe in soulmates. When I became immortal, I would be guided to the one I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with, so I wouldn’t be alone—forever.”
“And that wasn’t Isabel?”
“I thought that it was. I came back to Spain and found her. She was holding my son. The natives told me that the lore stated that I would know who my soulmate was by the magic of the Fountain.”
“What does that mean?”
“To you, I smell like sun-baked sand. To me, you smell like saltwater. Before we really found each other, before we embraced, you were drowning from my proximity, my presence.”
“So, smelling like the beach and feeling sick means that we’re soulmates?” I ask, wrinkling my noise in its absurdity.
Gabriel smiles at me. “Daria, we were being guided towards each other. We were being guided towards the Fountain of Youth. The sand, the water, the sun, it’s the elements, it’s the earth, it’s the universe, gods-created, and gods-manipulated, to act out their will.”
I’m not converted, yet. How can a gift, such as immortality, be bestowed, and then taken away, as soon as an innocent life is destroyed?
I decide not to voice my thoughts, though, given Gabriel’s enth
usiasm and unshakeable faith.
“You didn’t feel that with Isabel, the drowning, the scents?” I ask, instead.
“No, and she didn’t describe any such feelings of drowning—and she didn’t have your scent.”
“Why do I look like her?”
“After taking care of my son, she desired a family of her own. She left the convent and married. She had a son.”
“I’m descended from Isabel?” I ask, astonished.
He touches my cheek. “Yes, you are my soulmate. When we first embraced, when we found each other, it was salvation, Daria. I was adrift, lost in a wide, open sea for five hundred years, until I collided”—he smiles—“literally, with you. You were the shore, the island, my destination, my refuge.”
I place my hand on my healthy, beating heart. “How am I alive?
Gabriel gestures towards the pool. “When you fell in the Fountain, it recognized you. You are bound to me by fate. You are my soulmate, so your immortality was granted. You died. You were reborn. I dived in, brought you up from the depths. It sensed me too and sealed the pact between us.” He smiles. “The gods love us, Daria.”
I’m speechless, processing, and then I find my voice. “I’m immortal?”
He smiles and nods. “Emilio stabbed you in the heart, and you came back to life.”
“You thought I wouldn’t recover, didn’t you?”
“I wasn’t sure. I knew the wound was serious, deadly. I trusted in the legend, in the gods, but as time passed, and you…well, I despaired.” He kisses me. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
We’re crying, holding each other, beneath the sun. We stare into each other’s eyes, smiling at our fortune.
I’m immortal. I’m immortal. I’m immortal.
What now?
Life Goes On
Gabriel leads me outside, to a motorboat, surprisingly secured, as if magnetized to the surface of the water. Another boat is floating out in the ocean, empty.
I blink, adjusting my eyes to the explosion of light. “Where are we?” I take note of the position of the sun. It’s mid-morning.
Swept Away Page 8
