After a terrible hangover, I wake up covered in blood, wearing a torn nightgown, dizzy, and without the will to live. This is too much, and all I can do is wish for death to finally take me. I notice translucent shadows stirring, activated by my suicidal thoughts. To provoke them, I start thinking about ways to kill myself now that my captor is gone.

I realize that here, where I am now imprisoned, there are no bars, but I am chained to a post in the middle of this miserable hovel. The floor is unpaved. There is no furniture except for the bare essentials and a few peculiar items—a strange, old stove, a small mill. The roof is made of corrugated metal, and a few planks resting on stones serve as a table. Instinctively, I think about smashing my head against the stones, and the shadows, the surrounding spirits, become agitated. Surely, they are waiting for the precise moment when my soul detaches from this body so they can usurp it... That is my conclusion. Bodies can be inhabited by wandering spirits seeking to take possession of them. Or something like that, I suspect. The spirits sense that I will not kill myself and settle down. But when I search my mind for the best way to escape, they grow violent and scream at me from their ethereal plane—though not so distant from mine.

I notice that my captor has left me a half-liter plastic jug of water and a deep plate with a disgusting broth in which a piece of meat floats. Flies hover over the stew, intensifying my nausea.

After a while, I drink the water, and just as I am about to try biting into the meat, the door swings open violently. I turn and see the captor carrying another girl.

They are both soaked.

Outside, a storm rages.

She is unconscious, and he throws her toward me like a sack of potatoes. He turns to shut the door, and I manage to catch a glimpse of city lights far below, I think, and on a nearby hill, another humble little house with a water tank beside it and two pigs tied to a tree, surrounded by chickens seeking shelter inside a small cement building with a corrugated metal roof. That place is receiving a group of children led by an adult, carrying camping backpacks with the unmistakable rolled-up sleeping bags.

The captor growls almost imperceptibly as he slams the door shut and quickly turns to see how much I have noticed. I feign ignorance, cradling the little girl's face between my battered legs.

He looks at me and laughs, a crazed, unhinged laugh, while hundreds of voices around me make unbearable noises. Some laugh, others cry, some scream.

The little girl in my lap moans, intoxicated by whatever narcotic they have given her.

The captor snatches her from me, grabs her by the hand just as his predecessor did, and drags her to the mattress at the other end of the room while I scream with all my might, trying to be heard by the campers.

"HELP!"

A sharp blow clouds my mind, and as I fade into unconsciousness, demonic spirits swirl around me, trying to rip Daniela's body away from me.

*

As an invisible whirlwind pulls at my thoughts, or my consciousness, or whatever I am, waves of pain crash against me, and everything feels unbearably heavy, burning, aching.

"Hel/ hmp/ Hel—"

I try to speak, but only manage to whimper.

The kidnapper carries me over his shoulder, his weight pressing into my stomach. I remember nothing now, except perhaps that, at irregular intervals, he punches me in the face with a clenched fist, making me lose consciousness over and over. I bounce between a spectral world where various shadows claw and tug at me, as if trying to drag me out of Daniela's body, and the brutal reality where he keeps hitting me on the other side—the side that hurts the most, stopping me from fighting back, stopping me from existing on my own.

*

Then, without fully understanding what is happening, I lie on the ground, swallowing mud while an enraged mob rains blows that strike both my captor and me. They wound him, and his blood covers me, seeping into my mouth and eyes, blinding me. I can't open one eye because of the swelling and pain, and the other is filled with his blood, making it impossible to see.

They hit me.

They push me.

They stomp on me.

They cut me, and then—sharp claws, pointed nails grip me and drag me away at incredible speed. It feels as if a bear has taken hold of me and is carrying me to its den.

"There you go, girl. I'm here. Well... not a girl. Young one."

I try to sit up, but I don't understand what's happening. I can't stand, and an appalling woman—not a beast, not a bear, but a hideous woman—pulls me up. I try to resist, but I'm dizzy. My vision shakes, and I lose my balance.

The nausea...

The revulsion...

My stomach aches, my vagina burns, the impurity torments me. The remnants of the kidnapper drip from within this body, trickling down the inner thighs amidst clots of blood and uncontrollable urine.

The woman embraces me.

"Shhh, young one. You did well. You endured all this so the girl wouldn't have to," or at least that's what I understand. But the woman knows I am not her. Or rather, that I am, but not entirely. "I must go now. I can't stay with you, but this is a miracle, and today, I am happy to sacrifice everything for your girl. But you must understand that you, too, will lose everything."

"I don't understand," I mumble.

"You will, when the time comes. But know this—you must die for your niece to be saved," she says, breathless and hurried. "In the meantime, no matter what happens, don't leave. Don't follow the light. Don't listen to the call until you have your niece in your arms and give her her place. Hold her tightly to you, okay?"

"I don't unde—"

She abruptly stands, and a truck crashes into her head-on, sending her flying and slamming her against a concrete wall.

"DON'T HELP THEM!"

The spectral predator grabs me before I can react and hurls me into a truck. I struggle to open the door, but I'm too weak, too uncoordinated. The kidnapper, frantic, pummels me with brutal strikes from the back of his hand, each blow landing on my good eye, my bad eye, my forehead. I try to shield myself, but his speed is overwhelming, his strength crushing. Worse still, I don't even have the energy to lift my arms and protect myself.

Knocked out, I collapse onto his lap as he drives recklessly, distant gunfire, screams, and sirens filling the air.

*

I fade out and then back in, unable to lift myself. Yet, I can sense my captor driving erratically—honking, lights flashing around us. This won't end well, and though I can't rise or fight, I can, with immense pain, open my mouth.

The sirens grow closer.

So do the gunshots.

Bullets strike the vehicle's frame.

It's now or never!

I bite down on my captor's inner thigh. At first, he endures it, but I dig in with all my strength until my teeth crack, pulling at the flesh as best I can. A monstrous, guttural scream erupts from him, his voice dropping into an inhuman growl. He jerks the steering wheel violently, and we begin to spin, rolling over and over—roof, wheels, side, front, over and over again in a violent, chaotic crash.

And just as we come to a halt, shattered and wrecked, the deafening honk of a semi-truck roars as the ground shakes beneath me, the screech of brakes piercing through the chaos before the truck slams into us, silencing everything.

A blinding light envelops me, and I remember the woman's words.

I try to pull away from the light, and as I become aware of myself again, I realize we are at the edge of a ravine—undoubtedly, the truck's impact has thrown us here.

I crawl, agony searing through every fiber of my being, away from the wrecked vehicle and see my captor's unconscious body slumped in the driver's seat. I consider finishing him off, but then I hear him gurgling, blood spilling from his mouth in thick, choking gulps. Terrified, I turn and run—limping, battered—into the pine forest.

I weave through the towering trunks, the bitter cold freezing me from the inside out, making every step more impossible. I clutch onto a tree, among so many, and collapse, unable to continue.

Then, her voice—my niece's sweet, delicate voice, faint but near—whispers beside me, bringing light back into my soul. And in that precise moment, as her presence surrounds me, a dark, overwhelming force tries to rip me away from Daniela's body.

I feel like those baby animals in nature documentaries, like a chimpanzee infant being snatched by the alpha male after defeating its father—ripped from its mother's protection, doomed to be destroyed so the victor can father his own lineage.

With a beautiful smile on her face, I imagine Dani reaching out a spectral, yet tangible, hand to me, whispering softly into my ear:

"Hold on."

I remember the flames in the distance.

I remember the people running toward us.

I remember the gunshots striking down the Enemy.

I remember the ambulances approaching.

I remember the darkness covering me.

And I remember Daniela who, without words, asks me to return her little body.

I remember nothing else, except—perhaps, I'm not entirely sure, but... maybe... my niece's voice, in my thoughts, coming closer, thanking me for the battle fought, as she cries out to me, as she guides me towards... towards where she believes I must go.

I—I feel a powerful release, a "Clack" that snaps me free, sudden and forceful, and a weightless sensation of emptiness and peace swirls around me. In the distance, below me, my niece glows within a battered body while hundreds of shadows curse their inability to take possession of her.

A great happiness fills me.

A deep peace embraces me, and I smile, content.

Happy.

"I am also happy, ma'am." My mission is complete.

Then, a sudden release hurls me into a calm void, though at great speed, yet in an absolute vastness where neither distance nor velocity inspire fear, only peace.

I feel the wind breaking in my ears, but there is no wind, no sound, no speed, nothing.

I am beyond all of that.

I am surrounded by a dark emptiness in which I feel suspended, while my niece's voice fades into the distance, loving me infinitely.

The nightmare is over, it's true; and, goddamn it, I never got to finish reading Moby Dick.