Isla panted, her chest rising and falling to get air. Her body was still shaking, not from sheer exhaustion, but from the realization that she had just taken someone's life. Her bloodied hands felt so heavy. Jessica lay lifeless on the floor.
Matteo looked at Isla with an expression that was hard to guess. Then, without warning, he patted Isla's cheek gently-not a blow, not even a caress, just a touch that was enough to pull her back into reality.
"Don't waste time regretting something that can't be changed," he said, his voice cold and authoritative. "You won. That's all that matters."
Matteo lowered his head and picked up the now unoccupied knife. With one motion, he wiped the blood that stained the blade on his sleeve, as if it were just ordinary dirt.
"Now, you clean yourself up. We have other work to do."
Isla did not respond. Her gaze was still fixed on the corpse before her. Matteo sighed, then grabbed Isla's chin and forced her to look at him.
"This is not the end, Isla. It is the beginning. If you do not learn to accept this reality, you will not last long." Matteo released his grip and stood up straight, looking at Isla who was still transfixed. "If you want to stay alive, you must learn to discard your weaknesses. From now on, you are not the Isla you once were."
Isla swallowed. She knew it was true. There was no going back. All that remained was the way forward darker, crueler path, but the only one that could keep her alive.
Wordlessly, she stepped back, away from Jessica's corpse. Her breathing was still heavy, but she forced herself to stand up straight. She had to face this and accept what she had done.
Matteo watched her for a moment, then gave a small nod. There was something in his perhaps a hint of satisfaction or simply recognition that Isla had taken the first step toward something greater.
"Good," he said finally. "Now, help me bury this body."
Isla looked at Matteo, then turned to Jessica's lifeless body on the floor. Her hands were still shaking as she crouched down, trying to reach the corpse's legs. The stench of blood was so strong, it almost made her nauseous. However, she restrained herself. She would not look weak again. Matteo watched wordlessly, and then without much ado, he lifted Jessica's body from under the arms.
"Lift her legs," Matteo said.
Isla simply complied with Matteo's words. Jessica's body was heavy and cold, stiff like a broken doll that had lost its soul. They led her out the back door, through the dark and narrow corridors of the training facility. Isla had no idea where they were going, but Matteo had a plan.
The night outside was cold by the time they reached the backyard, where the ground was still wet from the rain that had fallen earlier. Matteo stopped walking and threw the shovel at Isla's feet.
"You dig," Matteo said.
"Me?" Isla gave Matteo an incredulous look, the first time she had ever done something like this.
"Yes. This is part of your learning." Matteo lit his cigarette, taking a slow drag before exhaling the smoke into the air. "You killed her, now you must eliminate her traces."
Isla's hands clenched into fists. She knew this was not just an order, but a test in her development. Without arguing, she grabbed the shovel and started digging. The soil was heavy and damp, difficult to move. Her muscles began to ache, but she didn't stop. Every bit of dirt she threw felt like a weight that was gradually eased from her mind.
After a while, the hole was deep enough. Isla stood up, her breathing rough and her hands shaking with exhaustion. Matteo nodded in satisfaction, and then with one motion, he dropped Jessica's body into the hole. The sound of the body hitting the damp earth was heavy. Then, Jessica's body was buried.
Isla stared at the now flat ground as if nothing had ever been buried beneath it. Her hands still clutched the shovel tightly and her breathing was heavy. The night was getting quieter, only the sound of leaves rustling in the wind accompanied them. Matteo threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stomped on it with his boot, then looked at Isla.
"Do you still feel guilty?" Matteo walked closer, and then with one swift movement, he grabbed Isla's chin and lifted her.
Isla did not answer. Her hands were still shaking, although she tried to hide it. Then, Matteo released his grip.
"Let's go inside. You should rest."
Isla stayed where she was for a few seconds before following Matteo. She knew that tonight was not the end. And there was no turning back.
***
The room assigned to her was simple, containing only a small bed and a desk in the corner. The walls were cold, without any decorations, as if to emphasize that this place was not for comfort, but simply for survival. Isla sat on the edge of the bed, staring at a picture of her with her father.
Her mother had died after giving birth to her. Isla only lives with Diego Varela-her father. Although Diego was a feared mafia leader, to Isla, he was a loving figure. Her father never treated her cruelly, unlike how he treated his enemies.
She clutched the photo tightly, feeling her emotions mixed with anger, sadness, and a great sense of loss. If Diego was still alive, would he have let Isla fall this far? Or was this the fate that had been prepared for her? Her father was the only person who truly loved her in this world.
Even though Diego was the leader of a drug cartel, in her eyes, he was still a loving father man who held her as a child, read her stories, and always protected her from harm. Therefore, she would avenge her father's death.
Suddenly, the door to the room opened and Rafael walked in. His sharp eyes scanned Isla who was still sitting on the edge of the bed. He said nothing for a few seconds as if reading Isla's mood.
"How does it feel?" asked Rafael in a calm voice.
Isla looked at him with a blank expression, but inside her, emotions were still raging. Guilt, exhaustion, and confusion were still swirling in her head. However, she did not want to appear weak before Rafael.
"It was your first murder, but not your last," he continued. "The sooner you understand that this is part of your new life, the easier it will be for you to survive."
"I never asked for this," Isla muttered.
"But you did it anyway." Rafael crossed his arms over his chest. "And you'll keep doing it until you reach your goal."
"My goal?"
"Revenge." Rafael nodded. "Diego is my best friend. And I know he wouldn't let his daughter grow up to be someone weak. If he's still alive, he'll want you strong enough to protect yourself."
"What's the next step?" Isla could only resign herself to being in a world like this.
"Rest tonight. Tomorrow morning, we start training again." Rafael turned around and walked towards the door.
After Rafael left, Isla sat still, her eyes returning to the picture of her father. Her hands were still shaking slightly, but something was different now.
"Do I look more and more like my father?"