Your Caresses On My Skin

Ivonne Wilson

Cold, too cold, is what one feels in this gloomy and dreadful girls' boarding school where I have been forced to stay. It wasn't the right time to be here, and the conditions for this place to remain operational were not met either. I didn't understand how they managed to keep it running, only homeless youth stayed in places like this, and that wasn't my case at all, or at least, that's what I kept thinking.

I remembered my old friends, they were all spending this winter with their families. Will they remember me? After all, it's been almost a year since I last saw them; in fact, they pushed me away from them. Why did my life become so complicated after Mom's death? Why did my father have to find another woman so quickly? Why couldn't it have been someone else? Yes, just a few months after my mother passed away, her place was taken by another woman, my aunt.

The one responsible for my current condition, because even though I never tried anything against her, she always tried to be something she wasn't to me. I would never accept her as my mother; she was my aunt and should remain that way. My father would have weeks before I entered this place, but I'm sure he wouldn't keep me here, or at least, that's what I want to believe.

I'm eighteen years old, which is legally considered adulthood, so I'm an adult, but my naive father, before he died under somewhat confusing circumstances, according to the police, and which, after due investigations, they have dismissed based on the forensic laboratory's findings, stipulated in his will that his assets, meaning my inheritance, would become mine when I turned twenty-one. Furthermore, the person in charge of taking care of me until that happened was my aunt. My mother's ambitious sister, who always sought the chance to catch my father's eye, regardless of the fact that he was her own brother-in-law, and who eventually succeeded once my mother died in an accident, which, strange as it may seem, was very similar to my father's.

Only five years have passed since that event that changed my life in unimaginable ways. My aunt began her game by coming to our house every day under the pretext of helping my father and, in the process, helping me. But my naive and grieving father never realized it, in fact, I think he believed that being with my aunt could somehow bring him closer to my mother, as they were quite similar.

My father's fortune fell into my aunt's hands three years ago when, under her charms, my father had to marry her and make us all believe that she would take my mother's place.

I remember that day perfectly. My aunt asked for all the pictures of my mother to be discarded. Of course, only the ones in my room remained, along with one that my father guarded with great care in the safe of his office – one that even that woman didn't know about, only me.

While she lives the life of luxury she always wanted, I am rotting away in this place, growing more withered every day and losing hope of getting out, unless I turn twenty-one and take possession of everything that rightfully belongs to me. Even though I have a cell phone to communicate with my old friends or my boyfriend, Julian, I could only send a weekly letter to communicate with the outside world, and they were always addressed to him. Someday, he would grow tired of this situation, and I understood that. I suppose that, in the long run, I would also grow tired of a relationship that feels long-distance, but it's not actually like that.

I smile at my own bad luck, as I remember that when I was a child, I loved watching the movie Rapunzel, and now, with each passing day, I resemble her more – locked up in a crumbling castle, patiently waiting for the day of my freedom. Though I'm not sure if that day will come for me the way it did for her. I don't believe a prince will come to rescue me, though I hoped he would, truly hoped.

"You made a big mistake marrying her, father. She was never what she seemed, she didn't change with my mother's death. She's always been interested in your wallet, and you gave her exactly what she wanted – the power to do whatever she pleased with your legacy," I whispered to one of the few pictures I had left of him with my mother. In fact, I think it's the only one; my aunt likely got rid of all the others in the house. After all, she never could stand seeing the joy that my mother radiated to everyone around her.

"Talking to yourself again, Ivonne," said the only friend I have in this place, Anastasia. Fortunately, she doesn't know what it's like to live in a loving family and then lose everything. For her, this place is normal; she comes from a dysfunctional family. In fact, I think her mother is in prison, and from what she's told me, her father is an alcoholic who has tried to abuse her several times.

Society is becoming increasingly terrible, and sometimes, the situations we see on television, the ones that seem distant from us, are actually closer than we think. Yet, we isolate ourselves in our own lives instead of doing something meaningful and raising awareness among others about everything we're exposed to, trying to combat the evil.

"You know I can't help it. It makes me so frustrated just to think about it. She'll end up with everything, and the truth is, I don't care anymore. I just want her to get me out of this place and let me live my life in peace," I said as a tear rolled down my cheek. "I hate this place. I had it all, Anne, and I lost it all just like that."

"You can't be sure of that. The only way that would happen is if something unfortunate happened to you, and nothing has. And we all hate this place, but for now, it's much better to live here than out there on the streets, in the cold," she replied with a half-smile. I knew she didn't really want to revisit that phase of her life; Anne suffered a lot during her time on the streets, facing all kinds of dangers and escaping from many men who wanted to harm her.

"Why don't I have the age my father stipulated in the will yet? I wouldn't put it past him to do something to harm me, though of course, I hope that won't happen," I responded. I knew it was wrong to insinuate that about my aunt. After all, we're family, my blood runs through her veins, but I couldn't help it, because everything that happened seemed like a dirty plan she had orchestrated – the kind that only appear in soap operas or movies.

It's just not possible that days after my father made everything clear and specified in his will, he passed away. He wasn't even sick! But no one sees that! They're all blind!

"At least you have something to fight for. In my case, I'm better off in here than out there," I commented. I got up from my bed and walked over to hers. We got along very well, and if it weren't for her, I probably wouldn't still be here. Things are very different compared to what I was used to, and I sat down beside her.

"You know you can always count on me," I responded to her comment. "If we ever manage to get out of here, don't doubt for a moment that you'll come with me. I'll help you and provide support, whatever you need, even if it means studying together. I know that's been one of your biggest dreams," I mentioned again.

"You're a good friend," she said, smiling with excitement in her eyes. "And that's why we're together now," she added. "Don't doubt that I'll protect you from those mean girls who always bother you," she said. I don't know what I would have done without Anastasia. After all, I don't know how to fight, and I have no idea how to defend myself. Violence has never interested me.

"Thank you," I hugged her and smiled. The door to the room opened, and someone came to get us for breakfast. Thank goodness they remembered us.

"It's good that you're ready," she said, showing a rod that had been used to hit me a few times before. This one was red, stained with the blood of girls who, like me, didn't know what they had gotten themselves into and were not at fault.

Anastasia and I left the room and headed to the poor excuse for a kitchen that was falling apart. I just don't understand why the people in charge of inspecting these buildings don't do their jobs or show up.

Our lives are depressing... well, the lives of people with fewer resources and opportunities. I'm not here out of necessity; I'm here out of obligation. But thanks to this experience, I realize all of this. I think I'd like to prepare myself to do something for these people. I have the resources, although I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to use them.

Three years later.

I would be turning twenty-one soon, and I could finally leave this place. I eagerly anticipated that day – to escape from here, take my friend with me, and find happiness. I looked forward to reclaiming what my father left behind and putting my aunt in her place, even if it was just once in my life.

In fact, it was less than a week away. My friend was just as excited as I was. How could we not be? As I left, she would leave with me, no matter what it took. There was a letter to the man who is my boyfriend. Throughout all this time, I haven't received any responses from him. But perhaps now, as I prepare to leave this confinement, I'll have a chance to be with him again. I only hope he's still waiting for me.

Narrates Nikolay Petrov

I was expelled from Russia. Those damn sewer rats managed to do it. But they don't know who the hell they're messing with. Whoever crosses me pays not only in life but also in death. I'll come back with much more strength and power than before, and they'll see what I'm capable of. With my name and my family, no one plays or mocks. I'm sure their heads will end up hanging from a bridge in Russia, and I'll personally take care of that.

I couldn't help but think about those vermin who stayed behind, using everything that belongs to me – cars, money, jewelry, trade routes, and more. I would definitely let them dare to live with my possessions, let them grow complacent, let them think I had died, or worse, that I had fallen into the hands of my country's police and been locked up in the worst prison imaginable. And then, I will finish them off.

"Sir," my trusted man interrupted my thoughts. He's the only one I have left, as the others saw this ship sinking and decided to leave. They will also fall, because when you're dealing with a Petrov, there are a few key points that need to be crystal clear.

No one dares to challenge us. No one stands in my way. And the most important of all, no one, absolutely no one, gets a second chance to betray us.

"What the hell do you want?" I asked in agitation. Yes, most of the time, I had to endure my bad temper, not to say always, but the situation warranted it. My entire family had to flee our homeland. I trusted someone and they stabbed me in the back. I think they need to experience this so they don't fall for anyone's game again.

"The woman who writes every month," he said, and I quickly stood up from my chair. Ever since I moved to this old house, a letter arrives from her every month without fail. She's hoping someone will come to rescue her, that someone named Julian will appear. But I believe that Julian wants nothing to do with her. "A new letter has arrived," he added.

"Give it to me," I responded authoritatively. Antoine took it out of his pocket, and I snatched it from him. "Thanks," I added, waiting for him to leave. I remember the day he came in through the front door, and all those letters were scattered on the floor – twelve, to be exact. Twelve letters, one for each month. That woman has been locked up for over a year.

"At your service, sir," he responded. He left the room, and I returned to my seat. It's been about a year since these letters started arriving at this address. I suppose the sender has no idea that the man she writes to with such longing and affection no longer lives here.

"Julián, I know these have been difficult years, but I'm finally reaching the age necessary to escape the confinement my aunt put me in. I'll claim what legally belongs to me and leave that house that was once my home.

I hope this news brings you joy too. I'll try to make up for all the lost time, if you allow me, of course.

Sincerely, Ivonne Wilson"

It was always like this, short letters, but each one was special. I wondered if this woman had done something wrong to deserve her situation. I also wondered who this Julián she mentioned was. In fact, the letters, ever since I found them, have all been addressed here. So there was a possibility that she got the address wrong, or perhaps that man wanted nothing to do with her.

I left the room to find Antoine and get the latest news from Russia. I didn't want to send him directly there. I'm sure my enemies are waiting for us to set foot in Russia again. They believe they have the power to do whatever they please now that I'm not there to give orders. But that would change soon. For now, we must rely on our informants.

On the other hand, I kept that letter with the others. In my dark days, as I liked to call them, I would read them. For a few minutes, I would force myself to believe that I was that Julián. Somehow, this woman made me see that her life was equally unfortunate as mine, in one way or another. Although, they would likely stop coming soon, based on what this last one said.

"What do you know about the rest of my family?" I asked authoritatively, my tone neutral. I knew they were probably in hiding. I couldn't believe we were like sewer rats right now, running to save ourselves. I was worried about them because despite our reputation as ruthless, psychopathic killers, my enemies might have captured them and be using them to get to me. They could be torturing them, though I hoped it wasn't the case. While my father wasn't my favorite person for turning me into what I am now, he was still family, and I wouldn't allow anyone to harm mine. Even if I pretended not to care at all, I needed to know how each of them was doing.

"Some are hiding in the south of Russia. Their parents managed to leave the country, but the police are looking for all of them. Sir, we should deal with all the problems we have as soon as possible," Antoine replied. He knew exactly what he meant, but now more than ever, he emphasized acting cautiously and based on strategies.

"I can't comprehend why you didn't leave when you had the chance," I responded to his comment, being more honest than anything. "Of course, I need to put an end to this issue. For now, I need to find a way to conceal the large sums of money I manage in various banks, but I can't think of anything at the moment," I mentioned again.

"You know very well that I was loyal to your father. He was the only person who took me in when no one else gave me a second glance. Now, I'll be loyal to you until the day I die," Antoine appeared, his gaze lost out the window. Even though he was practically family, he still saw me as a master. Antoine was like a father to me, even though I didn't show it.

"Loyalty in times of war is appreciated, but it can also be your downfall. And I remember you have a family to take care of," I replied. I know how this business works. It never ends well for the weak, and even if they pretended not to be, eliminating someone's family is one of the vulnerabilities that can be exploited. That's why I keep myself as far away from sentimentality as possible. "I'll think of something. Don't worry. Now go to your family," I responded again. My head of security's wife and children were the only ones who accompanied us.

"Alright, sir. I'm leaving," Antoine said and then left the room. I think what I had said hit him hard, but I was only speaking the truth.

I read each of the letters that woman had sent. Yes, it had become a habit, and I'm not one to develop habits. Ivonne. Who could this woman be? But I couldn't ignore the fact that just by reading what she had written, I could tell she had suffered quite a bit. Also, the man to whom the letter was addressed seemed like a complete idiot for allowing what happened, though I'm not one to pass judgment on that matter.

I'm not the kind of man who chases after a damsel in distress. No, that's not me at all. I'm the man who has killed others just for the pleasure of seeing the light leave their eyes. I've watched women cry for their lives without lifting a finger to save them, and I've seen children suffer because of their parents' deaths.

I had no opinion about the way that man had manipulated the girl's attention. After all, everyone does with their life what they see fit. On the other hand, sometimes I found myself dreaming about that woman. I imagined her as so different from other women, but I couldn't guarantee it. Perhaps she was a criminal like me; after all, she was locked up. But undoubtedly, that woman perplexed me.

I left the house. I needed to get some weapons. They were probably trying to pinpoint my location, and they wouldn't hesitate to end me if given the opportunity. Those rats won't catch me off guard. And if I die, it will be on my own terms.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I appeared to be a businessman, and no one, absolutely no one, would doubt my credibility. I just hoped the Galician police wouldn't suspect anything.

Only one thing was on my mind at the moment – Ivonne. I couldn't believe how deeply she had infiltrated my system, to the point where I couldn't even believe any of this.

We arrived at the "coyote's" place, as he liked to be called, the world's largest arms dealer, who incidentally, my family has the best deals with. I smiled as I entered his house. As always, he was dining alone in his dining room. He's known for being a bitter asshole, and while I might be similar, he takes it to a whole new level.

"He told you that no one is allowed in here. Especially when I'm eating," the man sitting there said. I'm just like him. Only a few people sit down to eat with me. I don't grant that privilege to just anyone. Not to mention that Antoine has been by my side my whole life, and he's only sat at the table with me a couple of times.

"I'm not just anyone," I said, appearing in his line of sight. I adopted the same demonic demeanor, as his father used to do deals with mine. Aleric, on the other hand, isn't the type of person who only cares about business. He doesn't care who he's dealing with. He won't change his attitude.

"I don't care if you're a Petrov or a full-fledged Yakuza member. I don't like anyone coming into my house, especially without my permission," he replied. "But since you're here, spill it. You've ruined my meal."

"Listen, you damn fool. This is serious, and I couldn't care less if my presence bothers you or not. I'm here for business, not for socializing," I said, barely concealing my irritation. We have such similar personalities that we often get on our own nerves. "And if my presence bothers you so much, we can settle this with our fists right here," I added, placing both my hands on his table, locking eyes.

"I'm not here for your games, kid," he said, his hand resting on the waistband of his pants as he looked at me seriously. I knew exactly what he was about to do, so I did the same. We didn't waste time pulling out our guns and aiming them at each other, but Antoine and Aleric's security chief appeared from the outside. Not a great day to have only standard security.

"You think I won't?" I retorted with a smug smile. "Now, tell me, are we going to negotiate?" I waited for his nod. If not, this would turn into a damn shootout, and I'd be at a significant disadvantage because he knew the lay of the land perfectly, while I had no idea.

"Lower your weapon, kid," Aleric's father said from behind us. "I didn't have issues with your damn father, and I won't have them with you. I know you two are good friends, but you both have shitty tempers. So irritable," he added, smiling wryly. I stepped closer to sit at his table and discuss the matters we needed to negotiate, but Aleric spoke up.

"Only people I value and trust sit at my table, and behind that, it's just me," he added, smiling. "You stopped being one of those when you decided to sleep with the girl who was going to become my future wife," he said.

"Well, Aleric, I've told you that she never once mentioned she was engaged. It's not my fault that happened. Drop the grudge already. I care more about her alive than buried," I replied with a grin, running my tongue over my teeth in a smirk. "I need weapons, different types. Sniper rifles, rapid-fire guns, close-range weapons. I need to be armed to the teeth for what I have planned," I added.

"We haven't even discussed the quantity, and it seems like I'll need time. I can't get you what you're asking for overnight, and I have 'orders' before yours," Aleric's father responded. He knew what I wanted. In this world, nothing works without enough money.

"I don't give a damn! I'll pay you whatever you want to bring me that shipment as soon as possible. Just give me a number, and I'll give it to you. You know that's not a problem for a Petrov," I added. He looked at me and then smiled again.

"Vse v poryadke (All right)," he responded. We shook hands to seal the deal, and then I left his house and headed straight to mine. Antoine glanced at me in the rearview mirror. He had a question, but he couldn't bring himself to ask it. He remained that way for much of the ride until he finally managed to voice his concern.

"Tell me, what's bothering you so much?" I asked, staring at him intently.

"Sir, I don't want to seem weak or foolish, but it's just you and me, while they number in the hundreds, and the guns you ordered are also in the hundreds, enough to arm a battalion we don't have," he said.

"Don't worry," I replied. "We'll find men, for money, and many would sell out their own mothers." We continued in silence, but inevitably, I thought about that girl. Today, when her letter arrived, I found myself thinking about her more. Her words seemed to replay in my mind as if I had memorized them, and perhaps I had, but I didn't want to admit it.

Maybe... Maybe she'll show up at my doorstep once her imprisonment is over, as she mentioned in her letter. Only if the address was correct. If not, I'll just look like a fool, believing in something that wasn't real. I wished to see her, to meet her. There was something in her writing that stirred a feeling in me that I had never experienced before. But I knew she was just as much of a rat as I was, and nothing good comes from mixing filth with filth.

We entered the mansion, and I searched through the newspaper. There are always people in need offering their services. I also sent Antoine to recruit people from the most remote neighborhoods in the city. I just hoped I could assemble my army and eliminate all those scum who took over my throne in Russia.

Moscow is my land, and not even the devil would dare to try and take me out of there. These poor fools have no idea who they've messed with. I grinned devilishly, a gesture I made when murderous thoughts took over my mind. And in that, I'm quite creative.

Ivonne Wilson

I just have to get through this day, just this one. By tomorrow's dawn, I'll be free. Finally, I can leave this place, take what's rightfully mine, and get as far away from my aunt as possible. I don't want to stay anywhere near the woman who destroyed my family.

"Tomorrow we'll finally be out of this shithole," I said, smiling. My friend was right beside me, a smile lighting up her face. She understood the significance – she would come with me. Leave behind these wretched conditions and seek something better together.

"You're right, all these years of waiting will have been worth it," she responded, her smile unwavering. And indeed, they had been worth every damn moment. I couldn't contain the happiness welling up inside me. But even so, I felt Anastasia was even happier. Her eyes sparkled just by looking at her.

I managed to fall asleep past midnight, eagerly wishing for the hours to fly by. But I was awakened by Anastasia shortly after, her expression giving away that something was wrong. She had a knack for stumbling into trouble during the dark hours of the night.

"What's going on?" i asked, her curiosity evident. She had likely discovered something. Those bad habits of hers, wandering through the shadows.

"There are some men outside asking for you, and they don't seem friendly," she said. "We need to leave quickly. I guess you were right when you joked about your aunt sending goons after you," she added with a half-smile.

"I don't think she's stooped that low," I said, though I was well aware of the lengths that woman would go to. After all, she had no qualms about getting involved with her brother-in-law or letting my mother catch her entangled with my father. She's capable of anything.

"We have to get out of here, Iv," Anastasia insisted, using a nickname she sometimes called me. I got up and put on some slippers. Everything else could stay behind – no time to waste taking more things with us.

"I'm right behind you, Ann," I replied, shortening her name too. I suppose after so many years of friendship, we felt the freedom to do that.

"Let's go," we slipped out of the room cautiously, leaving a couple of pillows on the bed to give the appearance that we were still there.

We walked through a secondary hallway that led to the kitchen, even though we weren't supposed to use it, it was an easy way to get out of the rooms quickly. Suddenly, we heard two loud bangs. I had never heard a gunshot before, but that's what it sounded like, and it scared me.

I froze, fear gripping my body, but Ann grabbed my arm and pulled me to keep moving. I wanted to believe that everything would turn out fine, really, but if they had already fired shots, they must have realized that the beds only had pillows. It was pitch dark, as if my aunt had timed this night to perfection.

The door wouldn't open, it was locked, as if they knew we were going to escape. But we wouldn't give up, we would try to get out as if it were the last thing we'd do, which now, was an option.

"Damn it," Anastasia muttered. We were both completely terrified, and that feeling only intensified when we heard footsteps coming towards the kitchen. We locked the door and tried to open it again, but nothing worked. Ann couldn't handle the pressure and grabbed a chair, which broke after several attempts. We left with some glass splinters embedded in our arms and wrists, but none deep enough to hurt us too badly.

We left the kitchen in the midst of darkness, guided only by the faint moonlight that filtered through the old buildings surrounding the area. In this place, even the streetlights struggled to shine. Every step we took seemed to resonate in the silence of the pavement, creating an echoing effect. My heart was pounding in my chest, feeling the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. My mind was filled with questions and fears, but we couldn't afford to stop.