Chapter Four

July 16th, 2011 – Santa Fe, Argentina

“So, where’s your little boyfriend?” Carlos asked, taking another step closer. My legs were already weak, and I felt exhausted from crying so much.

I knew I was helpless to fight him off.

Sure enough his fist collided with my stomach, and I doubled over, coughing from the impact. I looked up at pleadingly, “Please, Carlos…nothing happened,” I wheezed out. He scoffed, his hands dropping down to his belt, tugging at it to unbuckle it. “I’ll have to show you what it’s like to be with a real man again,” he said. “No,” I whimpered, once again hitting the wall.

He stopped, “No?” I stilled, the impact of my words fully hitting me. I had said no, the one word that I should never say to Carlos.

He surged forward, his fingers wrapping around my throat. “No?” he roared, slamming my head back into the wall.

I struggled as my vision swam. I expected his fingers to loosen, but they only constricted my breathing more. I coughed violently, clawing, desperate to regain my ability to breath. He was too strong though, and laughed at my feeble attempts to get free.

Just as my vision was darkening around the edges, I felt a surge of adrenaline. I brought my knee up, connecting with his crotch painfully.

He let go, crying out in pain. “Bitch!” he exclaimed.

I bolted for the door, and out into the hall. My options were limited. I only knew Leo well, and after that had to be Mascherano. But I didn’t want to burden either of them. Just as I was coming to a decision, I felt fingers curl around my arm. I panicked as Carlos attempted to drag me back into the room. Thinking fast, I shrugged out of my hoodie, sending him tumbling back from the loss of resistance.

I then sprinted to Leo’s door, banging on it desperately. “Leo, please open up!” I shouted, glancing back to see Carlos pushing himself upright. He was quickly closing the distance.

The door opened, and I nearly collapsed in, forcing the door shut as my boyfriend slammed into it.

“Open the hell up, Lia! Bitch, listen to me! I’ll fucking kill you!” Carlos yelled from outside. I let out a shaky sob as I collapsed, Leo catching me before I hit the floor. “Lia, what’s wrong?” he asked, “What’s going on?”

His eyes wandered down the length of my arms, taking in the old bruises, and the newly forming ones.

“Did Carlos do this?” he asked. I didn’t answer, pulling away. “I’ll leave as soon as he’s gone,” I murmured, sitting on the sofa. I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs. He followed, sitting next to me, gazing intently. “Lia, did he do this?” he repeated, stressing each word. “Does it matter?” I muttered, glad I was out of tears. As if I needed to cry anymore.

“Lia,” he whispered, reaching out. I flinched away instinctively. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he continued, still speaking softly, “I was disappointed in myself. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“It’s fine, Leo. You didn’t say anything wrong,” I replied, absentmindedly tugging on the fabric of my pants. I was uncomfortable with him seeing me, all of me. The bruises which I had kept hidden for so long were suddenly revealed for him to see.

“What do you mean I said nothing wrong? I was completely out of line! Lia, what is this?” he demanded.

I turned, more livid in that moment than I had been in years. I was tired. I was tired of being resigned to everything, to accepting defeat.

“I’ll just leave then,” I said, not wanting to fight with him. I hurt enough as it was. He reached out, grabbing my arm. I winced as he gripped several bruised areas of skin. “Carlos is out there still,” he warned. “It’s better than this,” I spat, “You were the one person that I found comfort in. The only one! I don’t even have that anymore. I just say the wrong things.” I wrenched my arm from his grasp.

“Lia!” he yelled, making me freeze, eyes wide with shock.

“I was wrong. I know I was. But please, don’t compare me to him. I don’t want to hurt you. But please, let me help you. How long has this been going on?” he asked, softer, gesturing to the injuries.

The rage passed, as did the adrenaline. I fell back onto the sofa, giving into Leo. “It started my first year of college,” I admitted softly. “Four years?” he asked, anger creeping into his voice, more apparent with every word he spoke. I nodded numbly. “Why did you allow it to continue?” he demanded. “As if I can go anywhere else. Until now, I was in college. I couldn’t just leave. But he was the only one who’d have me. It turns out, in the end, it’s better than being alone,” I replied blandly.

“You can leave now though, you’ve graduated,” he said, grasping my hand. I looked down at it, “And go where? I don’t have money – I live with my parents.”

“Come to Spain with me, I have more than enough room for the two of us. You can apply for a work visa, and be over in a month,” he said, his eyes lighting up. I frowned at how far in advance he’d worked this out. “I don’t want to impose…” I said, shaking my head.

“Noelia Martinuccio, you could never be imposing. Please, come with me. Please.”


July 20th, 2011 – Barcelona, Spain

Even though Víctor and I hadn’t known each other that long, I was surprisingly upset by the idea of him going to America for preseason.

He looked as incredible as ever, dressed in a fitted tee and jeans that did wonders for his ass, not that I was looking…that often. He had forgone the hat, but his aviator glasses shielded his eyes from the hot sun as we strolled through one of the many gardens in the city.

“I’ll be sure to buy you some souvenirs,” he said as the gravel crunched beneath their feet, “America has tons of tacky stuff I could bring.”

I made a face, “None of that shit they call football. That is the most boring sport on the planet…other than curling.” He chuckled, “You’re not American, so you’re sort of biased.” I shook my head, “No, it’s the sport, not me.” “That’s what they all say,” he pointed out. I stuck my tongue out in the most mature way possible in retort.

He rolled his eyes, gesturing to the small store they’d stumbled upon, “Can I buy you a drink?” The way he said the words made them sound like an innuendo instead of an innocent question.

I was more than capable of responding, “I don’t know, can you?”

He smirked, “Anytime I want.” I grinned, “Prove it.” He grabbed my hand, leading the way, this thumb absently rubbing the skin along my palm. The store was air conditioned, a modern convenience I was glad for as I wiped the sweat off my brow as he let go to grab some drinks from the case.

“What do you want? Water…tea…lemonade?” he asked, looking at the possibilities.

I walked up behind him, playfully biting his shoulder. He spun, smiling, and pretended to take my nose. “You won’t get that back
until you choose a drink,” he teased.

“Water,” I answered, gazing into his eyes, despite the barrier of the glasses. He reached up, removing that obstacle between us. His brown eyes were shining brightly, even under the dim fluorescent lighting of the store. Without looking away, he reached into the case, and grabbed two bottles of water. I was completely entranced by his gaze, which was steadily darkening, unless I was imagining things.

Suddenly an ice cold object touched my neck, making me shriek in alarm. He wiggled the cold water bottle at me, his glasses sliding back down.

“Cheater,” I huffed, “No…tease!”

“Me?” he gasped in fake offense. I nodded furiously as he paid for the drinks. He handed the cashier the bill, and then handed me one of the bottles. I took a swing from it as we headed back outside. He drained his quickly, which I chalked up to him being an athlete. Soon I was refreshed when an idea crept into my mind.

As he looked around, completely unaware, I splashed the remainder of my water on him, making him shout in his turn of surprise.
“I always get my revenge,” I smirked, folding my arms over my chest in victory. It was troubling, though, to see the smirk appear on his face. I had the feeling that I had probably just gotten myself deeper in trouble. He walked closer, his smirk widening. I was relieved as he walked past, only to hear a loud splash, followed by a wave of water. Stupid me had been standing in front of a fucking fountain.

I was dripping wet, and he was almost dry, save for the one patch of his shirt.

“Oh no you don’t,” I growled, splashing back. It digressed into a complete water fight, and by the time we had worn ourselves out, we were completely drenched. We returned to his car, laughing hysterically at our childish outburst. I pushed wet hair out of my eyes, jealous of his lack of hair.

“I bet you won’t do that in America,” I grinned, leaning against the door of the car. “I don’t think I will either,” he conceded, “But then again, I doubt I’ll find anyone as mature as you over there.”

I pouted at his jibe, splashing some water at him. He returned the favor. “Hey, you can’t possibly make me wetter!” I exclaimed, looking at my dripping form. A wide, almost animalistic grin appeared. He leaned close, whispering in my ear, “I know I could make you wetter, Ariela.” I gulped, regretting my poor word choice. I shivered, despite the heat, causing him to chuckle at my expense.

“Oh, laugh it up, chuckles,” I pouted, blushing darkly.