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143

The ocean broke beyond.

The sleek, coal-coloured vehicle arrived when the sun began to

set. The light began to disappear, as the darkness hungrily swallowed

it, like a crocodile digesting a Spanish bull after weeks of fasting. I

heard the crunching of the gravel outside my window, and I began to

habitually scratch my thumb. Padre had told me I must change into

something beautiful so he would be proud to have me on his arm.

He even bought me rouge for my cheeks. I choked, aghast at my

striking reflection. This dress was made of buttery satin and fit

closely around my waist. The first time, I was in a common

falda

and

apron, running a delivery errand for Padre. The reptile lured me

into his illuminated cave, gesturing me to sit with a movement of his

claws. Candles flickered. He attacked me, pinning my arms down

with his, forcing his venomous mouth upon mine. I could see his

artery pounding in frenzy through the thick skin of his scaly neck.

The car ascended the dirt road and headed back into the centre of

Panama. The ocean was chasing me beside the car before its

weariness became too great and the greenery took over. Outside the

tinted windows, I watched young children playing in the street,

kicking an old

Coke

can – its red and silver metals throwing off a

sparkling glimmer into my eye. As we drew closer to the border, I

noticed the house on the hill. Spectacular. Towering over the whole

city of Panama. One side overlooking the Pacific Ocean, the other,

the Mexican border. The car decelerated, before coming to a

complete halt-like the end of the Flamingo dance. I sat still.

Lucia. Now, he commanded.

I moved. The house stood erect, blocking my view of the Panama

skyline. I followed my father into the colossal building, turning

before entering, for one last view of the glassy ocean. My eyes were

now glassy too. I picked at the dirt beneath my nails, my eyes focused

ardently on the floor.

“Fernado. And, ah, you brought your lovely daughter! Sssso lovely,”

he hissed.

I stopped breathing and bowed my head – refusing to lift my eyes

to his glare. A claw touched the bottom of my chin – pulling up my

face with disguised force. His mouth pressed against my cheek –

stubble itching my face.

He paused there.

I swallowed – not again.

La Frontera

12