Beneath His Shadow

CHAPTER ONE

Sun light filters through the white curtains, painting its design in the shadows over my bed. The orange glow of the sun’s rising warmed the room. All I could do was stare as it felt like my body was so heavy my bed would swallow me whole. I hate this. I hate how weak I feel.

Pain stung through my torso, even at the first light of day. Any muscle I moved was like being hit by a car all over again.

A knock echoes around the four walls before my mind can say you’re not in a dream, “Rhea? You awake, querida?” I cleared my throat, trying to sit up at least slightly to reply. “Yes, come in.” The white door swung open slowly, Marcela entering in with a mug in her hands, steam wisping from the top. A slight floral aroma followed her through the room until she reached me, her heels clicking softly against the floor.

She lays the mug on the bedside table, “Here, let’s get you sat up.” She hooked an arm gently under mine, the other supporting my waist. I used my feet to try and kick myself up, not wanting to put my full weight on her. She grabs another pillow and lays it behind my back, then hands me the mug of green tea.

“Thank you, Marcela.” I sighed, taking a small sip and cupping it between my hands. “I’m starting to feel better, it’s just…getting up and down.” She gives me a sad smile, reaching down to straighten up the blanket. “That’s why you need to take it slow. Everything will go back to normal, your body just needs to heal.”

“I know,” I sighed exaggeratively, “But I’ve been healing for two weeks. I’m tired of being bed-bound. It’s driving me nuts.” After another few sips, I set the mug down on a nearby coaster, attempting to push myself up more with my arms. “I refuse–” a wince bit through me as I straightened, “To lay in this bed any longer.”

“¡Espera! Don’t go so fast! You need to worry about your incisions.” (Wait!) I could see the visible panic over Marcela’s face, a familiar sight here recently. I pull the covers off me, Marcela helping to hold my weight as I leisurely swung my legs over the bed. “You worry too much. The doctor said I was healing well so far.”

“That’s only if you continue to take things slow, Mija.”

I huffed, sitting up still my feet hit the slippers below the bed. She passed me the mug, to which I began to sip from to relieve my throat from its parchedness. “I hear that your father has some news for you.” I lower the mug, cocking an eyebrow at her as she straightens the pillows behind me.

“News? What kind of news?” She just shrugs, placing a hand on her hip.

“Just what I heard, querida. I’m sure it’s nothing bad.”

Marcela’s warm smile tries to reassure me, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t particularly like this news. Ever since the car crash, any news delivered by my father is just another strict rule to keep me ‘safe’.

“I’ll have breakfast finished by the time you’re done freshening up.” I nodded, giving her a soft smile as she walked around the bed and out the door with a soft click.

I sighed, looking over the room in front of me as the mug warmed my hands – well, hand. I took another quick sip of the herbal tea before placing it back on the nightstand and slowly pushing myself up off the bed; my feet slipped into the slippers below them.

I took in a hesitant deep breath, feeling the rising pain of my ribs when my lungs expanded too much. I practically hobbled into the bathroom, quickly freshening up and searching out an outfit for the day. The days have been getting colder fast, so I picked out some comfortable pants and a soft, long-sleeved shirt, keeping my house shoes on. I don’t know for sure if I want to try and go out today, or if I even could.

The house was quiet, as per usual. Not much happened here. My father was usually gone to work most of the day, Marcela the only other company I have. There are a few security guards around the property, but none of them really speak to me.

My slow steps echoed down the upstairs hall; Marcela must have super hearing because when I looked up she was heading my way as I approached the stairs. “Don’t even try it alone.” She scolded, scurrying up the stairs and wrapping an arm around me. We took one step at a time, each one feeling like a knife forcing its way farther into my skin.

You really figure out how much your abdomen is used for after abdominal surgery. It feels like I can’t move without some sort of pain following. I just couldn’t wait for this to be over, to be healed and not have to depend on everyone else to even get up from bed. I can’t even do simple tasks, I feel like.

I couldn’t wait to get out of the house again. I hadn’t in over two weeks if you count the hospital stay.

I could hear the clatter of dishes as I made my way down the stairs, holding the railing in a death grip to support some of my weight. The aroma of different breakfast foods drifted through the air and through my nose, causing my stomach to growl loudly. I didn’t eat much for dinner last night, sometimes with all of this it makes me sick.

I make my way through the empty entry, into the dining section where Marcela was sliding eggs off the pan and onto a plate. I made my way onto the bar stool of the kitchen island, looking over all the food that had my mouth watering.

She had biscuits laying perfectly on the pan she just pulled from the oven, bacon laying on paper towels before she began to move them to the plate.

“Here you are, Mija.” She gently laid the plate down in front of me, turning back around to grab a glass for orange juice.

“Thank you, as usual, Marcela.” I smiled up at her, taking my fork to begin feasting, although having some trouble considering I’m down a hand.

“Make sure you actually eat! You barely ate anything yesterday.” She scolded as she pushed the glass towards me, sliding along the granite top.

“Yes ma’am” Marcela rolled her eyes with a smile, placing her hand on her hip as she usually does.

“So you really have no clue what this news is?” I couldn’t help but ask, mouth stuffed with a bite of my biscuit. Marcela had a habit of keeping things from me as well, just not as often.

“I told you, I really don’t. If I did, I would tell you.” She raised her hands in mock surrender.

“Uh-huh.” I hummed, giving her a teasing smile, even though I didn’t know if I fully believed her.

“Attitude.” She pointed at me, trying to give me her classic stern look, but I could tell she was trying not to smile

I just laughed, returning to my breakfast for a quick bite.

“I just really hope it’s not another thing to keep me from leaving.” I sighed.

“You know your father, he just worries, querida. Don’t take it badly.”

“I know, but he worries too much sometimes. The crash was scary, I get that, but it was just some dumb drunk driver.” Marcela doesn’t respond, just pulls the rag hanging from her shoulder and begins wiping the counter.

“I just thought things would be different after I turned eighteen.” I couldn’t help but frown.

“It will be, Rhea. He’s just on edge, like you said, because of the crash. He just wants you better, that’s all this is, even if sometimes it comes out in not the best of ways.” She said with a sad smile, pointing towards my food to urge me to finish before it’s cold.

I sighed, nodding, knowing it will always be the same answer.

“Good morning, honey. How are you feeling?” Father came behind me, startling me at first as he pecked a kiss on my head.

“A bit better. Slowly but surely. I figured you’d already be at work.”

“I’m about to leave. Don’t rush it, it’ll take time but you will be back to your usual self soon.” I hummed at his response, taking another bite of my food.

“There’s something we need to talk about.” My eyes slowly move to him, and I can feel my stomach twisting in anxiety.

“What is it?” I asked wearily, putting my fork down, trying to stop the worry growing in me from showing on my face.

“I know this isn’t…ideal, but, I would feel a lot better if I knew you were safe when you, say, go out or even go through the garden.” I gulped, not entirely knowing what direction this conversation was going to go in.

“I’ve hired an associate of mine to look after you when I’m not here.” He blatantly said, and I could tell he was trying to read me for a reaction. Honestly, I didn’t entirely know what reaction to give.

I gulped, “What exactly does that mean?”

“Well, he will escort you anywhere you need to go, and protect you if need be.”

My gaze flickered for a moment, trying to search for the right words, “So like a…bodyguard?”

“Yes.” He nods.

“I don’t understand why I need one.” I said as I turned back to my food for a moment like it would distract me.

“Because it’s for the best.” He stands to leave from the island, causing my gaze to return to him as my eyebrows furrowed.

“But, father, the crash was just an accident,” I tried to stand too quickly, resulting in a strike of pain running through my torso but I tried to push through to catch up to him.

“Careful, honey!” He stressed, coming back towards me, gaze swopping over me as if we would spot the pain.

He sighs, “It was but…I just want to be safe. That’s all. Please just trust me.” A frown pulled at my lips, but I nodded anyway. There was no use of arguing my point with him, he’s still going to do it anyway.

“He will be here tomorrow morning.” I nod again, before her father disappears out the door.

My lips wobbled for a moment, staring at the door he departed from. Why couldn’t he understand I’m not a child anymore who needs constant supervision? He couldn’t do this forever, I’m eventually going to leave for college.

I turned, making my way past the kitchen.

“Mija…” I heard Marcela’s voice behind me, but I didn’t want to say anything else. What else was there to say? It all resulted in the same answer. It’s what’s best for me.

My feet led me to the back door as I lost myself in my thoughts, grabbing the sweater hanging on the hook beside, stepping out to where the cold chill of wind ran up my skin. Goosebumps spread like wildfire, causing me to hug my sweater closer.

The garden was losing its color as winter began to set in. The plants I had worked for through spring now wilted back into the ground to sleep. I sighed, picking a dead petal from a nearby flower wrapped in death.

When would I get to decide what’s best for me?

I just don’t understand. The ‘protection’ my father has put in for my sake seemed more and more ridiculous the more I thought about it. I’ve never had any issues with anyone wanting to harm me, even when I actually do get to go out.

People can be rude, of course, but nothing threatening. Just an unnecessary attitude. That’s not enough to need full service protection from. God, I just hope this guy isn’t as overbearing as my father, although I’m sure he will be. He mentioned the man works for him, his associate.

A sigh pulled through me as I wandered along the pathway of the garden, back to a bench I’m so very familiar with.

I hate being upset like this, where my thoughts just reel with a thousand unanswered questions and possibilities. All I wanted was some touch of normalcy, the kind I’ve never had in all my eighteen years. I never went into school, always homeschooled; College was my way to finally get to that freedom where my every step isn’t watched.

I took my seat on the bench, leaning back and gazing over the sky; the sun awakening to paint its art of red and orange, rippling over the dark blue. The moon was still faintly visible, showing its crescent one last time before disappearing for the day.

My eyes gaze distantly, trying to reel my thoughts to a quiet whisper, as I listen to the morning birds play their songs.