Olhar Rúbeo

Hello, readers! Welcome to Olhar Rúbeo.

Just one important detail before we begin reading: Cecília’s story is set in the 1960s.

I hope you enjoy the atmosphere of the era and this blend of suspense and sapphic drama. Happy reading, and let me know what you think in the comments!

Her eyes were an intense blue, as blue as the sky that held her attention. I stared into them with equal fascination until her beautiful face turned toward me. And finally, I had won the gaze I had envied so much from those who had received it before me.

— Cigarette? — I ask.

— That’s going to kill you, Cecília.

— You know I smoke when I’m nervous. It’s your fault. — I take a drag, holding the smoke in for a few seconds. — Is that the asshole over there? — I subtly tilt my head toward the tall man with the broad smile and impeccably tailored suit. — Your father has terrible taste. — I look away, turning my attention to the view before me.

Vivian rests her arm against the balcony railing and watches me. She lightly touches my arm with her index finger, drawing my attention back to her.

— You know none of this is my fault, right? Cecília, we knew this would happen sooner or later.

— It wouldn’t have happened if you had given me a chance to run away with you. I would have protected you, Vivian. You wouldn’t have had to stay with someone you don’t love. — I say, making no effort to hide my disappointment.

— And live off what? False hopes that things might work out? — A faint smile appears on her lips. — We were very young, Cecília. Time passed. I learned to live with it... and, you know, it’s not as bad as it seems.

— What did he do to you? Was it really that easy for him to break you down? — I insist, staring at her.

— Why do you always have to be so sensationalist? — she snaps impatiently. — Cecília, it was the most rational thing to do. We wouldn’t be here if that hadn’t happened.

Before I can argue, a gray-haired woman in a black dress approaches Vivian. She greets us politely with a smile and, to my surprise, congratulates her.

— Congratulations on the pregnancy, my dear. May God bless this new chapter of your life!

I freeze. My eyes immediately snap toward Vivian, searching for an explanation. The pallor spreading across her face tells me everything.

— Pregnant? — I try to keep myself composed.

Vivian stares at me in silence.

— How many months? — I press.

— I was going to tell you, but I never had the time. Can we talk properly after dinner? — she says, concern evident in her voice, seemingly oblivious to the woman standing beside her.

— I can’t. I have somewhere to be. Excuse me... but I’ve already stayed too long.

Vivian’s eyes seem to glisten with tears. I simply turn my back on her without another word.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I simply buried my anger somewhere inside me, somewhere I could reach later. The air felt heavy, and all around me, every sound seemed to fade into silence—as though the world had stopped for a moment.

After wandering for what felt like forever, I stumbled upon a place that seemed welcoming, almost fitting for my state of mind. The smoke from the cigarettes quickly dissipated as I stepped into the bar, and the inviting scent of liquor soon drew me toward the counter.

A FEW HOURS LATER...

— The young man had fair skin and hair of a...

I turn my displeased gaze toward the

muffled muttering.

— Shut the hell up! I can’t finish the article like this. — I say authoritatively, dropping my notebook onto the small table and standing up. — Do I not look attractive to you anymore? — I ask him with a cynical smile.

His bewildered, nervous expression makes me laugh. He no longer looks so threatening—a helpless prey at the mercy of its hunter describes him much better now.

— I’m thinking of giving the readers a little more excitement. “The victim was found without his eyeballs and with multiple mutilations across his body.” What do you think?

I pick up the blade I had tossed at his feet when we arrived and bring it close to his neck. I watch him squeeze his eyes shut as he desperately pulls at his restraints, trying to free himself.

— Quite the pathetic little coward, aren’t you? Come on, soldier. Where’s all that bravery you had a few hours ago? What’s the matter? Getting nervous?

I move a little closer and drag the blade across his chest, drawing a muffled scream from behind the makeshift gag.

I sit in the armchair beside the bed and light a cigarette, taking in my surroundings. The hotel I’m in is hardly one of the better ones. The walls are poorly painted in a faded pastel blue, the floor is filthy, and I highly doubt the sheets have been changed in less than three days.

With every drag, I watch Robert’s desperation—a young-looking soldier who used to brag about killing and torturing prostitutes during the battles he had been sent to fight. “Pervert” would be an accurate description. It wasn’t difficult to lure him here.

EARLIER...

As soon as I entered the bar, I took a seat at the counter, and Robert’s conversation caught my attention.

— You should try it sometime. That shit made me feel more alive the next day. Damn whores, they were already at the bottom of society anyway. — He spoke enthusiastically as he told his companions.

I ordered a drink, and we began exchanging glances. It wasn’t long before he made his way over to me.

— Robert. — He sat down beside me. — What’s a lady doing alone at this hour?

— Cecília. Problems and more problems. Society has been exhausting lately. I just want to forget about it for a while. — I said, tracing the rim of my glass with my index finger before taking the last sip.

— Boy, two whiskeys. — He called out to the bartender without looking at him. — You’ll join me, won’t you? Don’t insult me like that.

— I wouldn’t turn down such pleasant company.

— If you don’t mind me asking, what’s got you so worried? Women have nothing to complain about.

— What exactly do you mean by “nothing to complain about”?

— You know... they just take care of the children and serve their husbands. How hard could that be? — he said, staring at me.

— Have you ever done either of those things? — I move a little closer. Robert shakes his head, still refusing to look away. — Then don’t have an opinion on something you know nothing about. — I say firmly, and the corner of his mouth curls into a smile.

— I like you! — He picks up the drink that has just arrived at the counter. — But there’s still a lot you have to learn. A woman shouldn’t behave like that. — He brings the glass to his lips.

— And who’s going to teach me? You? — I stare at him.

The man smiles and takes another sip.

Robert told me some of his stories from the war and how proud he felt every time he executed one of his opponents. He bragged about one time when he had been captured and tortured by the opposing army, only to escape—but looking at him now, I find that hard to believe. He certainly wouldn’t have survived.

After several drinks, Robert was completely drunk. He invited me to spend the night with him, and we left the bar, heading toward his car. As he drove us to a hotel far from the city, Robert slurred incoherent words, ran his hand along my legs, and talked about how eager he was for us to “fuck.” I remained silent the entire time, glancing at him every now and then while keeping my disgust to myself.

When we reached the room, I offered him another drink—one quite different from what they usually serve in bars. After he drank it, I helped him out of his clothes and laid him on the bed. I went into the bathroom looking for something sharp and found a razor on the sink. I returned to the room and found Robert already half-asleep. I cut the telephone cord. Without rushing, I tied his hands above his head and secured them to the bed, then gagged him with one of the pillowcases.

NOW...

I stub the cigarette out against one of Robert’s arms and remove the cloth from his mouth. With difficulty, he begs for his life in an exhausted voice.

— Shhh! — I signal for him to be quiet, pressing my index finger to my lips. — Is that all you know how to say? “Please, let me go. I’m just an asshole who likes to act tough.” — I imitate his voice in a crude mockery. — I’m ashamed to have someone like you defending the country I live in.

— You stupid bitch, I’ll kill you. — he says angrily, struggling against his restraints.

— Yes, sir. — I walk over to my bag and pull out a small revolver. I return to Robert and smile at the sight of his panic as I point the gun at his penis, then his head. — Here or here? — I ask, feigning uncertainty.

— They’ll come after you, listen to me! What will you gain from my death? Let me go and we’ll forget this ever happened. — he pleads desperately.

— Of course. That’s what the man who threatened to kill me minutes ago says. I’m tired of your pathetic voice. — I put the cloth back over his mouth before he can beg again. — And to answer your question, I get a fine article for my newspaper. Thank you for your service.

I struggle to hold a pillow over his head and pull the trigger.

— You don’t look so handsome anymore. — I say, removing the pillow from his face.

I search the pockets of his trousers for money and find a generous amount along with his identification papers. I take them with my coat and handkerchief, then leave the room.