Amapola Beviláqua

“Oh my God!” I exclaim, covering my nose as the terrible stench fills the air. I want to vomit, but I know I can’t. It’s my father in there, and I need to help him.

The four men step aside, and I enter the cell. I’m aware that every move I make is being watched, but I don’t care. I need to get my father out of here, to take care of him as I’ve done for the past few years. It’s not the first time I’ve found him unconscious; previously it was due to his drinking problem, but this time it’s from mistreatment.

The hatred in my chest spreads like the venom of a serpent. I wonder how there can be such evil people in the world, but I find no answers. These men who see themselves as gods will one day pay for all this.

My parents always taught me that in life, we reap what we sow, and they are not good planters.

“Papa,” I call as I approach and kneel beside him. “It’s me, your Amah.” I use the affectionate nickname only he and my mother called me. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

“Mia bambina!” he exclaims with a voice so weak I can barely hear him.

“It will be okay, I promise,” I say with tears in my eyes. I momentarily stand up and approach the demon they all call the boss. I wish I could slap his face, but for my father’s sake, I must humble myself before him.

“Gave up seeing your end?” he asks as I approach.

“No, sir,” I try to sound humble, though my rage is consuming me inside. “We made a deal, my life for his. Let me help him not die before you free him, and then you can torture and kill me. He’s an old man, too weak to endure what you’re putting him through. Please, I beg you, let me help him.”

“I don’t remember making any deal,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “When did I say both of you would leave alive?” he asks coldly.

“I thought that...” I begin, but he interrupts.

“Well, think less. I decide the fate of everyone here, including you and your father,” he says roughly. “His fate was decided; he will serve me from now on,” he speaks of our futures as if discussing the weather. “And as for you, I don’t yet know what to do.”

“Please,” I beg. “Have mercy. Whatever you want, I’ll do.”

“I’m not giving you an option. Take care of him and this mess, and then I’ll decide what to do with you,” he says, and the tears return to my eyes.

“Okay, as long as he stays alive, I will be grateful,” I say with submission. My real desire is to slap him, but for my father, I hold back and enter the space where my father lies on the ground.

“What’s your name, girl?” he asks as I kneel again, intending to wake my father.

“Amapola,” I reply without looking back at him.

I want as much distance from this demon as possible, and my only concern right now is my father. I continue to call him gently while I hear him barking orders to his guard dog, the same one who brought me here, before leaving with the two men I now assume are his brothers.

“I’ll open the cell next door; there’s a bathroom where you can bathe him. While you do that, I’ll get some cleaning supplies to clean up this mess,” he says, and I nod. “You’ll have access to the corridor and the cell next door. The cell you were in will be locked. Don’t think about making any moves or trying to escape. This place is monitored, and you wouldn’t succeed anyway, which would only anger the boss further. So, for your own good, don’t even try,” he concludes and leaves, leaving me alone with my father.

I call to him gently. I don’t have the strength to carry him; he needs to help me. I need to get him out of here and into the next cell. I hope it’s clean.

When he manages to stand with difficulty, I support his arm around my neck and guide him into the space, which is very similar to the others. I’m relieved to see a thin mattress on the floor. After bathing him, I’ll place him there. I lead him directly to the opening I assume is the bathroom and confirm my suspicion.

With care and tenderness, I bathe him. When I’m done, I leave him without clothes on the mattress; there’s no way to dress him in the filthy clothes he had on. I take off my coat and drape it over his frail body. He’s shaking from the cold, and I worry he might catch an illness. Regardless, I won’t need much after this period of captivity; my death is certain. But for my father, there’s hope. I need to protect him.

My tormentor arrives with the items he promised to bring. He pauses, looking at me longer than I think is necessary, but I try not to be bothered. Perhaps he’s just following the boss’s orders. As long as my father is kept alive, I don’t want to defy him.

I clean the cell where he was kept, making it cleaner and better maintained than I think it was when my father was brought in. I do exactly what I was allowed to, and after finishing, I sit on the floor beside where my father rests, exhausted.

After a while, the guard brings four loaves of bread, a container of coffee, and another of water. I thank him and try to wake my father to eat. I choose to eat just one loaf and give the remaining three to him. I want him strong enough to at least try to survive without me.

I eat only one, as my body demands it, worn out from the cleaning and because I haven’t been eating properly for days. We’ve been surviving mostly on bitter, pure coffee.

After feeding him with care and eating my portion, I lie down beside him and am grateful for the lights being kept on. The darkness of my soul is enough; I don’t need more around me.

Even though I shiver from the cold, I fall asleep. I once thought all of this might be a nightmare, that I could wake up and find it wasn’t real, that perhaps my mother would still be alive and my father wouldn’t be mutilated from the accident.

However, the last two years have taught me that life isn’t easy, and no matter how difficult a day is, the next day can always be worse. I couldn’t expect anything good from life, and with this thought, I fell asleep.