Chapter 14

“I am sorry, but what could you possibly know about that? You are locked here between these walls, teaching foolish girls who think the world is perfect. That it is better to fight honestly for rights. Let me tell you: no, it is not. The more we fight, the more we seek a light, the more we are massacred until nothing is left. The world outside is ugly and dirty, and it is rotting! All this s**t here does not save us from that. It did not save me, and it will not save…” “Alexandra,” I want to scream, but her name only echoes in my mind, like a damn dirty secret. “Who?” “No one. The point is that, sometimes, our only option is to let them destroy us so maybe something remains, so that one day we can rise again.” “These walls are only a way I chose to survive. You are mistaken, Valentina. The world is not in the process of rotting. It has already rotted, and we are living in that filth. Do not be fooled by appearances, dear. I have already been reduced to nothing, and I am here.” “Do not try to compare ‘normal’ problems with what I went through. Do you know what it is to have your flesh crushed while being forced to see the devil on his best day?” “I do.” She surprises me. “And I also know that your personal demon is taking more and more space while you are here becoming nothing.” “I have already become nothing, do you not understand?!” “No. I see the anger burning in your eyes. I already told you that you speak too much with your eyes,” she says, as if we were talking about the weather. “Yes, of course I am angry. So what? What can I do with it? They incapacitated me.” “Make that anger your raw material.” I look at her, shocked. She is an etiquette teacher. What the hell kind of conversation is this? “You do not know what you are talking about,” I say, disoriented by the certainty I see in her eyes. “When I had nothing, when they ripped everything from me, including my reasons merely to exist, all I had left was anger. I cannot tell you now, not without knowing your reasons. But know this: when I had nothing and was nothing, I rose again. I remade myself.” “And can you say you are happy now?” “The beauty of remaking yourself is being able to rise from the ashes before they scatter. You catch fire, and you are only happy when you finish burning and take all the rot with you.” “And did you manage it?” “I have never been so close…” she says, with a gleam in her eyes that I want for myself. “I still think you have no idea how rotten things are. But I believe you. I would like to remake myself. I need to. I just do not know how.” “Get up! Come on! I know you are in pain, but put on gloves, disguise those scars, and let’s go!” “Where?” She makes me stand and begins choosing clean clothes for an outing. An outing! God! This woman can only be insane! “You will see. Come on, move!” I do as she says, partly because I do not really have a choice. The woman before me is another person, completely different from Miss Elinor, the teacher. I am starting to believe in abduction, because it would be the most reasonable explanation for the attitude of this person who only squeezes her students until she gets a result no less than excellent. At the school exit, we meet my nanny of the day, sent by the Don. That is another thing that still makes no sense, because the natural thing would be for Father to send his own. “Sir, I know you are responsible for this student’s security, and I want to know if there is any obstacle to us going out for a walk. She told me about the accident she suffered and is very downcast. We cannot have students like that during the school term, so I fear I must act for a faster recovery.” The tone of voice, the lack of expression, and the rudeness with which she speaks remind me of the Elinor everyone sees every day. She speaks as if the mere idea of having a sick student among the others would be in very poor taste. “Otherwise, what would the other parents think?” “I will accompany you, and those responsible for her must know about this,” the soldier states just as severely. “I see no problem with that, not when I always seek the best presentation for my students, not only in posture, but also in appearance. Let us agree that this one is not at her best,” she says with disdain. I would have been offended if I did not know she is a tremendous two-faced woman. We head out in her car, the security guard in the back seat with his eyes on everything. I am nervous, angry, and confused by this woman. She stops near a shopping center, a beautiful and elegant building. Completely absurd. “A beauty clinic?” I ask with disdain. “Yes. It will improve your appearance and leave you perfect for the start of classes.” “But…” I am about to object to my complete lack of desire to receive beauty treatments under these circumstances, but she interrupts me. “I am sorry, sir, I know you are responsible for Valentina, but you will have to wait here. Men are not allowed inside. You may receive news from us at reception in case of any delay.” She looks at me with disdain and, in a humiliating way, adds, “And in this case, I believe we will take quite a while.” The i***t only laughs and nods in agreement. In truth, I do not know if he actually knows the reason I am like this, since he is not Father’s soldier. But if he does not know the facts, he at least has the slightest notion that it was a beating. That is why I hate his laughter, because it shows his approval of the treatment we women receive from the men of the family. She drags me inside without giving me time to say anything. The first thing I see is a spacious hall, with well-arranged paintings, as if it were an art gallery. Doors indicate the existence of several rooms, and signs show their purposes. Hair and skin treatments, massages, invasive aesthetic treatments, nail care… I could leave here another person and no one would recognize me. A little frightening, actually. I say nothing, out of pure relief, when she passes all those entrances and takes us to an elevator. Still silent, she presses the button that takes us to the third-to-last floor. I look at the indication of what exists on the other floors and notice that there is a spa, dance classes, gyms, and—I am stunned when I read it—fighting, precisely on the floor where we get off. I got excited too soon, because we pass straight through those areas to another private elevator. It takes us to the top two floors of the enormous building and is only accessible with an electronic key. She quickly rummages through her bag, from which she takes out the book Amy Vanderbilt’s Etiquette, to my complete despair. Was I going to have etiquette lessons after our conversation in the room? Is that what she has to cheer me up? But before I can complain, she opens the book, which, to my absolute surprise, is hollow. Truly hollow, like in those spy movies. Elinor looks at me and smiles sideways, aware of my initial prejudiced attitude. From there she takes out a key and sets the elevator in motion. When the private area opens, I observe a long corridor with a reception desk, without any secretary in sight, as well as a meeting room that seems never to have been used and a door with a sign that reads “Storage.” “What do you keep here?” I ask. “Experience,” she answers and advances into the dark room, where absolutely nothing can be seen. She turns on a small lamp near the table at the entrance, opens a small minibar beside it, and hands me a bottle of water, aware that I was becoming slightly frightened.