Elsa’s silence continued to arouse her husband’s frustration. She, however, remained as cool as always waiting for the finale. It wasn’t long before it arrived.
- You don’t need me! Your job’s your lover!
He yelled at the top of his lungs and then, as was his custom, stormed out of the house slamming the door behind. To onlookers, this regular slamming sound was a rather obvious sign of marital issues which caused their concern. Elsa, however, sighed with relief as though she’d just heard the sound of a starting pistol. She set off, immediately, like an athlete – losing herself within her work, all night long.
It wasn’t about the money. They had plenty of it. John, a well-known heart surgeon, could easily provide for a village of people. From day one, he offered to take care of her and their children. They both wanted kids until, somewhere along the way, Elsa’s job became a calling much higher than changing dippers. Her journalistic mission and its ambiguous quest for truth were all-consuming and seemed nobler than bringing lives into ‘this over-crowded and troubled world’ as she called it. Moreover, they needed to make love to conceive a child – traditionally at least.
She would not be able to recall their last time together even if her life depended on it. Simultaneously, the memory of their first time could be found engraved on her heart. He loved her with passion appreciating each and every part of her curvaceous frame. Then, she was a size 14 which has shrunk to a size 8 over time. That didn’t matter to him. He cherished his woman. Only attention-wise, John insisted on a much bigger piece.
Two weeks later, having ignored her husband’s wishes, Elsa found herself in Mexico. The plan was to uncover the truth about a notorious Mexican group, and their links with corrupt politicians. She was on their territory – in the middle of dangerous criminal activities, but felt no fear. Armed with a camera, Elsa basked in the sensation of adrenaline caressing her veins. Yet, the scene was about to change…
These men were strong and at arm’s length. She could smell their sweat. The story would provide for an amazing headline, but she had to ask herself: ‘Will I live long enough to tell it?’ There was no time left to consider what the answer might be.
The camera, having captured her colleague’s execution, got dropped and abandoned in the foreign soil. It was too late to fear, so she run… faster than ever, but not fast enough…
- ‘Tengo la perra!’ were the last words she’d heard before her face hit the ground.
Within seconds, her mouth filled with the hot Mexican sand. Yet, even if she could talk, there was no negotiating with this blood thirsty Mob. They killed daily – to guard their territory, to protect the establishment’s fearsome reputation, and for enjoyment too. Remembering graphic images of their merciless acts, Elsa prayed to God pleading that He’d let her die fast. No man could help her now.
To be Continued…