The door was shut after Rosario and Ernesto and then, they were gone.
Thank the Devil.
I could finally breathe again—if only that weren't a luxury I didn't actually have thanks to this useless body. My whole being was thrumming with rage, but I could do nothing but lie there, seething in a silent prison of my own flesh.
Ernesto. That bastard. I could still see him; his hands on my property. His fingers squeezing, his arrogant little chuckles, the way Rosario giggled like some lovesick idiot…
Dios mío.
I needed to kill something. Someone. No, no—killing was too kind. Too fast.
My mind spun with the possibilities. Would I gut him like a pig? Cut out his tongue and make Rosario serve it in a stew? Tie him to a chair and peel his fingernails off one by one while he sobbed for mercy?
Or…
