Rage

Alfonso stopped the car, kissed our ten-year-old daughter Blanca on the forehead and gave me a cuddle. Blanca and I stepped out of the car, and as we headed toward the main gate, she was waving goodbye to him. As I unlocked the gate, I sent him a kiss that made him smile. A genuine smile very significant to me since I would not see him again until the next morning, when he would be back from his night shift in an aluminium factory.

Alfonso is a good husband, very supportive and affectionate. And above all hard-working. He would ensure Blanca had all necessities well covered; decent food, good education and if we could afford anything that would put a smile on her face, we would buy it. So far, she was well brought up; good manners, doing well at school, a good swimmer for her age and very pretty. We loved her dearly and since she is our only child – unfortunately, I cannot have any more children – our whole world revolved around her.

Alfonso sped off in his old Ford Sierra and for a moment I visualized the three of us at home that evening. “How wonderful that could be!” I thought. But in circumstances like this, it’s the small details that really matter: a kiss, a smile, a wink. Makes you cope better with the struggles of life. Especially that evening, after experiencing one of the most horrifying ordeals a mother and a child can go through. A grievous hardship that will linger within us for as long as our minds are sound.

We lived in a two bed-roomed flat on the fifth and last floor of a grim and old building located in the city of Valencia, Venezuela. Like all the buildings in the area, it was very well secured. You needed a key for the gate, another one for the main entrance to the building, still another for every floor and eventually, two or three for your own door. At times, I pondered the possibility of a fire, or any other emergency situation, and the race against time to escape danger, as you made your way through all the doors, getting the right key for each of the doors. But it was necessary, as many areas in our city were becoming increasingly dangerous; areas where crime rate was inevitably soaring.

So we headed for the fifth floor, unlocking and then locking every single door behind us, carrying that key ring filled with a dozen keys that rattled for what seemed like hours. It was always like that, it only took a couple of minutes but it felt like a night when you cannot drift away to sleep, and when you can hear that clock tick louder and louder, and slower and slower.

Once we were in the flat, I left Blanca in her room and while she started with her homework, I intended to cook something. I opened the fridge and then realized that I had forgotten to buy eggs. I really fancied omelettes that evening so I strode to Blanca’s room and said: “Blanca darling, I’m just going to Fernando’s to get some eggs, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Ok, mum,” Blanca replied.
Fernando lived on the same floor. A really nice old widower, who was always happy to get a visit from any of us. So I knocked on his door and he opened it with a broad smile.
“Nice to see you,” he said cheerfully. “How are you today?”
“Very well, Fernando. How about yourself?”
“Fine, fine. Please, come in for a little while.”
I knew Fernando did not have many people to talk to, so I decided to keep him some company for a few minutes and after all I was fond of him. He certainly relished our short conversation, then I grabbed the eggs and headed back to my flat. As I stepped in, I called Blanca. No response. I called again. Still nothing. Was Blanca playing games? Was she trying to give me a fright? Nope, I don’t think so, it’s not like her. I shuffled slowly and silently toward her room, eyes darting everywhere. I could sense there was something wrong, an uncanny feeling, maybe a sixth sense or whatever but something was not quite right. When I arrived at her door, panic struck me like a baseball-bat strikes a ball. My heart began pumping hard in my chest as if it were going to come out, my knees trembled like trees during an earthquake, and basically my whole body shivered uncontrollably. There she was, naked, completely mortified with horrifying fear, her eyes filled with tears, as a grimy stocky man, probably in his early forties, was holding her strongly with a switchblade resting on her neck.
“Make one sound and I’ll fucking kill her,” he snapped.
“Please, don’t hurt my daughter,” I pleaded recoiling a few feet with arms stretched out towards him, showing him the palms of my hands.
“Want your stupid daughter to live?”
“Please, please, I’ll do anything, but please don’t hurt…”
“I asked you a question, you answer yes or no, bitch,” he interrupted abruptly.
“Yes.”
“Then do as I say and she might live, understand?”
“Yes.”
“Any money in the house?”
“Yes, we have some savings, I’ll give you everything but please do not hurt my baby.”
“Good, give me all the money and all the jewellery you have in the house. If I even suspect you are keeping anything from me, I’ll kill her, do you understand?” He shouted angrily.
“Yes,” I answered with my head bowed.
“Then, move and get me all valuables in the house, then we are going to have some fun, and then you are going to cook something nice for me, you agree?”
“Please, do anything you want to me but for god’s sake, leave my child, I’m begging you.”
“Are you deaf or are you daft? I said move!” he said in an aggressive manner staring at me as if I had done something horrible to him.
So I went to my bedroom, opened the wardrobe where Alfonso and I had some money hidden between a few blankets at the bottom. It was maybe not that much money, but it was all we had managed to save in the last few years. Then I opened my night table’s drawer and got all the jewellery I had inherited from my parents and grandparents. It was incredibly painful having to give all that away to scum like this, but my daughter’s life was at stake, and I just wanted to fulfil the scum’s greed in the desperate hope that he would leave. I was wrong as I would soon find out. This man was crazy. His greed would never be satisfied, his appetite for hurting and humiliating seemed to be limitless.

I placed all the valuables I had collected on Blanca’s table. He held his switchblade between his teeth, then with his left hand clutched Blanca’s slim and delicate neck and with his right took the goods, shoved them into his dirty and smelly jeans’ right pocket and retrieved his switchblade from his mouth.

Then he glared at me: “Is this everything? Do you really think I’m stupid? Do you really think you can fool me?”

He was swaying his blade slowly as a parent can sway a finger at a child who has misbehaved. My humiliation was indescribable. This man – if we can call him that, maybe Scum is more suitable – had just taken all my savings and my most dear and sentimental possessions and he was still not happy. I knew it would be futile to try to convince him that it was everything we had, and I knew that any attempt to explain myself would make him angrier. I had found myself in a situation where I couldn’t win. All I could do was beg and plead and hope he would not harm Blanca, who clearly was in a state of shock. So once more I pleaded: “Please, I swear there’s nothing else in the house.”
“I’m hungry, cook something,” he commanded rudely.
“I was going to make omelettes, would that be ok?” I asked, trying to sound both humble and confident, and pretending normality.
“Omelettes are fine, but I want to watch you cook, I don’t trust bitches like you.”

So we went to the kitchen, Scum still holding Blanca’s neck with one hand and the blade with the other one. I started cooking as I could sense staring eyes travelling all over my body, then he suddenly broke the silence: “I want you to cook completely naked.”

I begged and pleaded and pleaded and begged. I tried to reason with him, and I tried to negotiate with him that if Blanca went to a different room I would do it. All in vain. Instead he was getting angrier and more threatening to the point that he was hurting Blanca. So I fulfilled his wishes and I cooked the way he wanted. I had never felt so humiliated before, nowhere even close. Time went by very slowly, every single second lasted an eternity. I could feel his eyes moving up and down. I could see a smirk on his face and I could hear an evil giggle. Put bluntly, I couldn’t bear it any more, it was too much to take.

I was still half way through my cooking when suddenly there were a couple of knocks on my main door, which startled me and especially startled Scum. Poor Blanca was too shocked to react.


“Listen, get rid of whoever it is. Any bullshit, any tricks, I’ll chop her ears off, is that clear?” He muttered as he poised behind terrified Blanca like a stretched elastic band ready to snap.
I bobbed my head slowly and made my way for the door. “Who is it?” I asked.
“It’s me,” Fernando replied.
“I’m sorry, but I was just having a shower, is it ok if we talk tomorrow?” I spoke through the door without opening it.
“Are you ok?”
“Oh, yes, I’m fine, Francisco, just a bit tired and want to get some sleep.”
“Ok, no problem, I’m going to bed myself very soon. I’ll speak to you tomorrow. Have a good night.”
“Good night, Francisco.”

Fernando had been my neighbour for many a year. The fact that I called him Francisco might raise some sort of suspicion that something could be wrong. He reacted very naturally, which made me think he got the message. But I wasn’t sure. And even if he suspected something, what would he do?

When I got back to the kitchen, Scum was smirking again: “Well done, bitch. He’s going to bed soon but we have all night, are you not glad?”
I nodded slowly, then he fell silent again. I kept making the omelette as he was relishing the show. A woman, completely naked, cooking for him against her will.
When I set up the table, I could see that smirk again. Even though I couldn’t show it, there was immense rage within me, within my heart, within my deepest existence. Could you imagine a living volcano ready to erupt, a volcano that needed to erupt but that nevertheless had to control and withhold all that energy, its power, its fury, its rage. Yes, the rage was within and it felt powerful and destructive.

I served him the omelette and I humbly asked him if I could make another one for my daughter. The only response I got was a burst of laughter. Then I grabbed the frying pan, which was still burning-hot and as he was laughing, I took advantage of his split second distraction and let the volcano within me erupt, rage spurting out with a great deal of force; the pan landed on his face twice. I grabbed Blanca and hustled out of the kitchen heading for the main door. I was screaming hysterically. I could hear people outside the door and they started trying to kick it open as soon as they heard me scream. I unlocked it hastily, banged the door open and what a heavenly view!, many of my neighbours were just there in front of me ready to help; they had been organized by Fernando, so he had got the message, he was not going to bed, he was contacting everybody.

I was shouting hysterically: “he’s in the kitchen, he was gonna rape us both.”
Like a swarm of bees, my neighbours – it was ten or twelve of them – swiftly rushed into the kitchen as Fernando led us both Blanca and myself into my bedroom and covered us with some blankets, then he shut the door and instructed us not to listen to any noises that could come from the kitchen, and not to worry about anything since they would sort everything out. Blanca was still in a state of shock, and I hugged her and started rocking and kissing her. Fernando continued talking to us but I could hear the inevitable; I could hear cursing, whacks, banging sounds and more cursing coming from the kitchen. Fernando kept talking, telling me over and over again not to worry about anything and that they all knew there was something wrong since all the doors on the stairs had been forced open, and that when I had called him Francisco, it was plain we were in peril, and that they hadn’t acted sooner because they had imagined the intruder, or maybe intruders, could have weapons, and Blanca or I could have been hurt.

I could still hear my neighbours bawling, shouting and cursing with rage; as I found out later, they kept punching and kicking for a long time. The volcano had erupted with all its force, with all its power, with its full rage. It kept going on and on, and I couldn’t believe a human being could take so much punishment. I could also hear Scum wail and whimper; and for the first time he was now the one pleading and asking for mercy; and I will never forget those hair-raising and horrid words that he eventually uttered: Please, kill me!