Читать книгу Ananke - Gilda Salinas - Страница 4

Mélida is nervous. Fear can’t stop coursing her body while she waits in the parking lot next to the taco stand in the alley. Every customer stares at her while they order their tacos. I’ll have one with longaniza. For me, three al pastor. She can hear them chew. Eyes are fixed upon her, wondering why she is barefoot and almost naked. Shame and fear mix inside her. I’m not an animal! This isn’t a show! A voice inside her shouts, but she is powerless to actually say the words. What the fuck are you looking at? Even a small dog that eats leftovers from the floor sniffs around her.

But the possibility of Darío finding her worries her more. He could arrive at any moment in his truck and shoot everyone, including cops. Yes, despite her efforts, she is afraid. If they suddenly blew her brains out, it would be fine, but it sucks waiting to be killed. Maybe she shouldn’t have escaped. It feels like an eternity has passed, and she is getting cold.

Not to mention that the officers aren’t moving. What are they waiting for? Darío’s face haunts her, always looking from the passenger’s seat, as if claws could come out from his eyes and grab her. The cops won’t let her move, but her entire body aches to run away. They called for backup, or they’re waiting for instructions, something like that. They always have their freaking codes, and there isn’t a patrol car on sight.

Some memories make her smile, though, like when the fat man stopped dead at the sight of one of the cops. The other cop, his buddy, stepped toward him, ready to pull out his gun. “Is that the man who kidnapped you?” he had asked. “No, he’s in charge of the hotel. A group of pimps had me.” After that, the fat man’s face was filled with terror, his eyes grew larger, and he fled from the scene. She wanted to laugh, call him a sorry-ass motherfucker, and shout any and all curses until she ran out of breath, or until she cried, but her eyes had gone dry for a long time now. She didn’t know what to do. She had no plan, nothing to say.

What’s bred in the bone will come out in the flesh, she told herself: If anyone could lend her some money to get to the bus station and ride to Zacatelco, she’d be fine. “Don’t be foolish,” the cops had told her. “The first thing the pimps will do is look for you in your house, your town. You’ll risk your entire family.” That triggered an image of his baby boy covered in blood, and that was enough to change her mind. Then what?

Another cop, the commander, as he calls himself, arrives. He wants to know everything: Who? What? Where? He looks at Mélida up and down, and then he scolds the other cops. “Why on earth did you keep her here? Can’t you see it’s dangerous? Get her in the fucking patrol right now!” He takes one of the cops with them for the report.

First they go to the police station. And so it begins…

POLICE FACTS SHEET

Subject: On October 24, 2012, the acting staff states that they called the Assistance Center for Victims of Sexual Abuse, where they spoke with María Silvia Páez Jiménez and asked her to send a social worker, clothes, and food for the informant.

Paper after paper. The sound of a computer keyboard.

With acknowledgement of receipt of the official request issued to María Luisa Flores Castillo on October 24, 2012 from the police station in the District of Tlalpan, Department of Legal Affairs, for the purposes of taking the informant’s statement.

Another patrol car, more cops, and the growing concern in Mélida’s face.

With the statement of police officer Tadeo Carrasco Pérez, who brought the informant on October 24, 2012, who states the following: ‘On…

At last, one kind face explains they are taking her to the Human Trafficking Unit to help and protect her.

Is this for real?

With the attorney’s attestation of the medical report of the informant, on October 24, 2012, hereby signed and issued by Gregorio Escudero Rivas, appointed medical expert witness, which includes two sheets describing the results of a psychophysical examination: The informant was conscious, she was able to speak fluently, and coherently; there are no signs of dehydration, she was able to walk in a straight line, her pupils are equal and reactive to light; her coordination results […] She is sexually active since the age of 17; she is 20 years old and has had multiple sexual partners; she was a sex worker with use of preservatives (condom) as protection method; no clinical data of infection, stds or pregnancy; four samples were obtained from vaginal swab, and the samples were placed in glass test tubes with cotton plugs for forensic tests of semen; blood samples were obtained for elisa assay. They were given properly to the officer in charge of the investigation to take the samples to the laboratory.

It all feels like a dream. Everyone’s been respectful: the doctor, the social worker, the attorneys. They treat her well, care about her. She was hungry, so they gave her some meat, stew and potatoes. It tasted like heaven. She was sick of eating greasy junk food. Her cheeks hurt just from the savory taste of the stew and warm tortillas.

She felt grateful for the clothes they gave her, even the worn sneakers, which were perfectly fine. She was able to brush her teeth, and tie her curly hair into a bun. Everything has worked out so far. Anxiety and fear diminish. She no longer feels flustered, as she faces another lady, the prosecutor, who smiles while she types something in her computer.

“All right, Mélida, let me explain some things. My name is Rosa Martha Quiroz, I’m a prosecutor. Here we assist victims like you, and I’ll take care of your case. We just need to wait for your assigned attorney.” Mélida doesn’t like the sound of that, but Rosa reassures her: “It’s the law, and it’s meant to protect you because we are going to start with legal proceedings. Are you following me?”

Mélida nods, though she doesn’t quite see the point of these “legal proceedings,” but she remains silent while looking at her surroundings, the furniture, the area, the faces, and the actions of those who work there. In the cubicle next to hers, a woman complains about her husband who sells her, and has her sons kidnapped to keep her quiet; a woman with a weird voice behind her reports a man who hits her. It’s probably her pimp.

A woman arrives and sits next to her, she smiles and greets everyone. She and Quiroz exchange some words that sound like a secret code. The prosecutor writes more things that the woman tells her. Her fingers are fast, while her eyes keep track of everything around her. She is alert, calculating. Then she smiles at Mélida. “We’re ready for your statement.” “Statement? I don’t wanna do that. You said you’d help me, but not like this. What will I say? I don’t want no trouble. Just hide me or something, the cops were right, if I go home right now, they could attack my family. No, I don’t want to say anything, ma’am.”

“Relax, don’t be scared. You have to tell us who sold you.”

Nothing. Not a word.

“Did they kidnap you?”

She nods.

“Did they force you into sex slavery?”

She nods again.

“Well, that’s all you have to say.”

A wave of possibilities invades her thoughts. She could get revenge, but that could mean more trouble. Darío and his pimps are powerful, they have ears everywhere. She looks in every direction to make sure no one else is paying attention. Her heart beats faster.

Silence.

“Look, the purpose of preliminary investigation is to carry out a procedure that will put in jail whoever forced you into sex slavery. It’s the only way to protect yourself. Meanwhile, you’ll be able to stay here. Look at all the cubicles around you. Every employee you see is here to help victims like you.”

Mélida’s face relaxes a little bit. She wants protection, so maybe she could tell some half-truths and a couple of lies to win some time while she decides what to do next. Salvation begins to take shape.

“All right, yeah, I’d love to see that bastard rot in prison, I could go back home, but will you really be able to help me?” she asks, trying to gauge the prosecutor.

“Yes, provided your statement gives us enough information to proceed.”

Well, yeah. If they put him in prison, I won’t have to worry.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Perfect. I need you to tell me everything in order, as much as possible. I don’t know how good your memory is, but we can do this little by little—”

“Oh, I have good memory, trust me, but I’ve been trying to turn off this… how can I call it? Like a memory switch.”

“Can we turn it back on?” Rosa smiles.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Mélida likes her. She seems like a good person.

“All right, then let me explain some things,” the attorney says, “due to the nature of the statement, Quiroz here needs to know everything, I mean descriptions of people you saw, places, conversations, and also very intimate details of the sexual relations. It may embarrass you, or even make you feel bad, but it is for them to be able to defend you. Don’t worry, no one here is going to judge you, and we are only doing it to help you, nothing more.” Mélida squints her eyes, trying to read behind the attorney’s words. “If at any point you are not feeling well, we can take a break, sounds good?”

“Sounds too easy, ma’am. Are you sure you’re not tricking me?”

“Let me put it this way: Your statement is the only weapon we have. If you don’t want to do it, there’s no problem, no one’s forcing you to stay here, you can go, but that’s not really in your best interest, is it?”

“What your attorney is trying to tell you is we’re here to help you. We have no personal interests in this or in any other matter. You are the one who suffered abuse and was deprived of her freedom. Those criminals need to pay for their crimes, but a victim must accuse them. You were their victim. Do you want be afraid the rest of your life? Was it fair that they made you suffer all of this?”

“But you will never be able to catch him. He has a lot of pimps and partners, including cops. How can you fight that?”

“That’s our job here. If you help me, I’ll show you how.”

Mélida considers the idea. Why is she playing hard to get if she had decided to feed them some lies along with the truth? Could it be that she feels like a hypocrite? They say they want to help her. Maybe they actually can.