Sunday, November 5, 2017

The Sorrowful Tale of Annabelle Sanchez

November 5, 2017,
18:03 local time,
Latin Gardens,
Arles, Arelatian Empire

“Hi,” said Carlos Moyen as he opened the door to greet the Arelatian National Police.
“Hi,” said Stephen Carter, a dark-skinned man who spoke with a distinct and heavy drawl. “I’m Stephen Carter and I’m here with my partner, Luke Alvarez.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said Alvarez with a smile. Alvarez was lighter-skinned but still tanned and was the more boisterous of the pair. “We’re with the Arelation National Police.”
“Is there, um, anything I can do to help you?” said Moyen, irritated by the officers’ presence.

“We’re here on a missing persons case,” said Carter, “and we’re hoping that maybe you can help us.” Carter then took out a picture and showed it to Moyen.

“Name’s Annabelle Sanchez,” said Carter as Moyen examined the photo. “We figure she’s about…18, 19 by now.”
“She used to live around here,” said Alvarez, who took a bite out of the submarine sandwich he was carrying. Since he worked out often, he was hungry a lot, and since the local deli loves his business, they cut him a deal on their sandwiches, which he loves to eat. “Nobody’s seen her for years, though, but…we got a tip that said she loved coming to your house.”

Moyen scoffed and threw his hands up in disgust.

“Do you think I have something to do with that?” he said. “I’ve got a wife and two kids…do you think I would want to hurt another family’s child?”
“You’d be surprised what family men are capable of doing,” said Carter pointedly.
“Maybe I would,” said Moyen, “but I’m not one of those guys.”

Moyen let out a deep breath to keep himself composed.

“Look,” he said, “Annabelle ran here a couple of times…Maria and I, we fed her. Treated her like family…better than her own family. Yet she never stayed here more than a few nights at a time…she had an intense loyalty to her family. I never understood why…her father beat her every day and her mother…oh, by Jove her mother…”

Moyen let out a breath, trying to keep his composure.

“What happened with her mother?” said Carter, sensing something important.

“Her mother passed her around to the boys in the neighbourhood,” said Moyen, unable to contain his disgust.
“Passed her around?” asked Alvarez with intent.
“Yeah,” said Moyen. “Whored her out…as soon as she ‘developed’. I told her to go to the police, but she never did. I tried myself but I was told that since she wasn’t my kid there was nothing the police could do. In fact, since the rest of the neighbourhood loved her- or rather ‘loved’ her- they gave me quite the grief for doing what I did.”

Moyen put his hands on his hips and looked the officers in the eye.

“Now,” he told them, “what makes me think you two are going to be any different than the other dunderheads that refused to do anything?”
“We’re National Police,” said Alvarez assuredly. “We picked up the case from the locals just last week, since it went cold…and since we’re the National Police, we have to care about these cases. Besides…I have a daughter of my own. I’d hate to see anything happen to her.”

Moyen sighed. “That’s good to know,” he said.

“When’s the last time you saw her?” said Carter.
“Two years ago,” said Moyen. “Ran away from home, came to my house crying. She stayed the night, got up real early the next morning, and bolted out the door. I never saw her again afterwards. I heard a rumour that she went to Rome and started turning tricks…but that’s all I know.”
“Thank you Mr. Moyen,” said Alvarez, taking another bite of his sub. “If we have any more questions, we’ll be in touch.”

The two brothers made their way back to their car and got inside.

“His story checked out from the same one he told two years ago,” said Alvarez. “If she didn’t contact him since then she must have really gone away.”
“I don’t think she went to Rome,” said Carter. “He’s likely only thinking that because Rome allows prostitution so everyone naturally thinks that’s where the pimps take her…but the protections are so good there and the prices are relatively low that no one looking to exploit her would take her there. She’s likely in England or America, places where prostitution is banned…that’s where the real money is.”
“What if she went willingly, though?” asked Alvarez, taking another bite of his sub, with a piece of lettuce falling onto the seat.

“Hey man,” said Carter, furiously reaching over and wiping the stain off the seat. “How many times do I have to tell you to watch your food? This ain’t our car.”
“I’m sorry man,” said Alvarez, readjusting the wrapping around the sub, better protecting it from spilling. “These things are going to happen.”

Carter gave Alvarez an irritated stare before deciding against protesting further.

“Anyway, if she went anywhere willingly,” said Carter, “Moyen would be the first person she’d talk to. The fact that she hasn’t means she’s somewhere she doesn’t want to be.”

July 25, 2011,
23:01 local time,
Latin Gardens,
Arles, Arelatian Empire

“Hey,” said Rodrigo Morales, 15, as he sat next to Annabelle Sanchez on the park bench. “I got your text, is everything okay?”
“No,” said Annabelle, 14, her voice cracking and tears visibly streaming down her face. “My mother…she’s at it again.”
“Oh no,” said Rodrigo, with grave concern. “What happened now?”

Annabelle lifted up her butt and lowered her jean shorts to reveal the mark of a clothing iron on her bare bottom.

“I accidentally spilled coffee,” said Annabelle, stammering, “and I didn’t clean it up properly…so Mommy spanked me…and applied the iron. I had to run cold water on the burn for several minutes before I could get some relief…it still hurts to sit…”

The red-haired, svelte Annabelle collapsed in tears into the arms of well-built Rodrigo, a local soccer prodigy. Rodrigo held on to her tight and kissed her forehead, doing all he could to reassure her.

“Oh Annabelle,” said Rodrigo, his soft, reassuring hands rubbing against Annabelle’s bare shoulders. “How I wish we were older…then maybe we could run away, go somewhere better…if not for me, but for you.”
“Maybe we should,” said Annabelle. “I don’t know how much longer I can take living with my mother.”
“Annabelle,” said Rodrigo with a sigh, “I can’t…my parents…they would worry about me.”
“I’m sure they would understand,” said Annabelle.
“Annabelle,” said Rodrigo, “it’s not so easy…”

“Roddy,” Annabelle said, looking Rodrigo straight in the eye. “I know it’s not so easy…but think about my situation. I don’t have a choice…I…we need to try something.”

As Rodrigo held Annabelle in his arms, he pondered what his friend said. I can’t leave town…my team needs me, and my parents would worry sick about me…but Annabelle…there’s no way I could let her go back to her parents tonight. Not after what I just saw. Maybe she can stay with us…yeah, maybe she can stay with us. She’s been there many times before. Our house…it’s big enough. Plus Annabelle would love the dog. Not sure if Pedro will like her but he’ll get used to her.

“Come back home with me,” said Rodrigo.

“Roddy!” said Annabelle, giddy with excitement. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” said Rodrigo with confidence. “Yes I am sure.”
“Your parents will be okay with it?” said Annabelle, her excitement stunted as concern crept into her voice.
“Yes, yes,” said Rodrigo, “I’m sure. I will convince them…I mean, the mark on your butt will convince them. They can’t…you can’t continue to live like you do. I know…it’s weird, a girl living with a guy…but my parents…my parents I’m sure will understand.”

Annabelle looked Rodrigo in the eyes and didn’t waste a moment. She leaned in and began kissing Rodrigo’ lips, with Rodrigo eventually returning the favour after the surprise happening. He always had feelings for her, but, not understanding them, he never acted on them.

The pair kissed passionately for several minutes, each enjoying it more as it continued. Eventually, their feelings overwhelmed each other, with Annabelle pulling Rodrigo on top of her as the two continued to kiss deeply and press each other against their bodies.

At one point, Rodrigo had his hands underneath Annabelle’s shirt, and began to pull it up when a light shone on the two of them, stopping their makeout session.

“What do you think you two are doing?” said Regina Sanchez, Annabelle’s mother, stepping out of the car with her husband, Felipe.

Regina’s angry, purposeful look instantly struck fear into the two of them, who cowered on the park bench as the parents walked towards them.

“So,” said Regina, slapping Annabelle hard. “You think you’re an adult now? You think you can just open your legs up to anyone, right?” She slapped her again before turning to the scared Rodrigo.

“…and you,” she said, slapping him. “Do you think my daughter is someone you can ‘score’ with? That you can just use her for your carnal, distasteful desires? Do you? DO YOU?!” Regina slapped him again several times before Rodrigo summoned the courage to talk.

“It’s…it’s,” said Rodrigo, wincing in pain as Annabelle had by now been reduced to tears. “It’s not like that at all…we like each other. I mean…I like her and…she likes me…I think…” Rodrigo’s voice trailed off while Annabelle nodded in the affirmative. “Besides…please…we don’t know what we’re doing…we’re young…the feelings…I don’t know what I feel but I know that I like it, and Annabelle likes it too, and-”
“Those are the Devil’s feelings, son,” said Felipe. “The Devil makes you give in to your desires, makes you lose control. Because a petulant snit like you was never taught any self-respect! Or any respect for that matter!”

Regina began slapping Rodrigo again, needing to fight off Annabelle to do it (and slapping her again in the process), with Rodrigo eventually having enough, grabbing Regina’s hand and throwing her to the ground so that she could get up.

“Oh now boy you’ve really done it,” said Felipe, drawing a gun and pointing it at Rodrigo. Annabelle shrieked as Rodrigo breathed heavily, doing his best to maintain composure.

“Annabelle showed me what you did to her!” he said, anger filled in his voice. “I saw the iron mark…all over a spilled cup of coffee.”
“She spilled that coffee on purpose,” said Felipe. “Burned my hand.” He then showed Rodrigo a burn mark that was actually from an unrelated incident that Annabelle wasn’t a part of.
“I did not!” said Annabelle, promptly receiving a kick to her face from Felipe.

“That’s it!” said Rodrigo, seeing the blood stream down the face of Annabelle. “I’m not letting you take her! She’s coming home with me!”

Rodrigo reached for her before he heard the cocking of Felipe’s gun.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” said Felipe, giving Rodrigo a menacing scowl.

“You know what Felipe,” said Regina, wiping blood of the side of her face. “If these two love each other, they should have sex right now.”
“What if they already had it?” said Felipe.
“WHAT?” said Annabelle. “No! We didn’t have sex! We just kissed! I swear! By the grace of St. Isidore I swear!”

“How dare you invoke a holy name in vain!” said Regina, grabbing Annabelle by her hair on the back of her head and throwing her to the ground.

Rodrigo looked on in stunned silence as Annabelle was curled on the ground, bawling her eyes out.

“Get up!” said Felipe, giving her several hard kicks before picking her up by her hair. He then passed off the gun to Regina, who continued pointing it at Rodrigo and Annabelle while Felipe had Annabelle’s shirt in his grasp.

“I’m going to teach you a lesson!” said Felipe, ripping open Annabelle’s shirt and tearing off her pants and her underwear, leaving her naked. He then took her by the hair and threw her again to the ground.

“Now you!” said Regina, shouting at Rodrigo, “take off your clothes!” When Rodrigo froze Regina ordered him to do it again, which he complied with.

“Now,” barked Regina. “Go have sex with her!” The stunned Rodrigo looked on in horror, unable to rectify every feeling he had. He froze, until a few swift moves by Felipe got him back into action.

Eventually, right then and there- and after much barking from both Felipe and Regina- Rodrigo and Annabelle would take each other’s virginity, with both visibly crying throughout. When they were finished, Regina dragged Annabelle, kicking and screaming, back to her car, telling her that she needed to “get used to that”, foreshadowing her future as the neighbourhood prostitute.

Regina continued scolding Annabelle, but Annabelle was fixated on Rodrigo in front of her. He had enough and wrestled Felipe to the ground, with the two of them tussling for several moments. For a few minutes, Annabelle was excited, thinking that maybe Rodrigo could emerge victorious and eventually allow her to run off with him anyway.

However, it was not to be, as Felipe eventually gained the upper hand. He gathered his gun and emptied its cartridge into Rodrigo, killing him instantly. Annabelle collapsed in tears upon the sight, being a hysterical mess as Felipe put Rodrigo’s dead body into his trunk. She continued yelling and screaming indiscriminately at her parents until Felipe gave her a few hard punches to her face. She then collapsed in the back seat from exhaustion, allowing her parents to dump Rodrigo’s body outside of the city.

May 18, 2015,
06:02 local time,
Latin Gardens Plaza,
Arles, Arelatian Empire

Annabelle Sanchez walked to the clerk and calmly but purposefully placed her case of Rothman’s beer on the counter.

The clerk gave Annabelle a dismissive look.

“ID please,” said the clerk.
“Oh come on,” said Annabelle, not hiding her disgust. “I turned 18 two days ago. I’m of age.”
“Well,” said the clerk, “I need to make sure.”
“What?” Annabelle snarled, “you don’t believe me?”

The clerk raised his head and rolled his eyes.

“This isn’t a matter of me believing you or not,” said the clerk. “I have to do my job. Besides, I can refuse to sell you the beer and call the police.”
“Fine,” said Annabelle, audibly displaying her contempt.

She pulled out her ID from her hoodie pocket- she was only wearing that, as it was the only article of clothing she could gather quickly before running off to Carlos Moyen’s house- and slapped it on the table, along with the money.

The clerk had a look at the ID a few times and rang up the sale, letting Annabelle go on her way.

She then walked a fair distance with her case, finding a bridge and walking underneath it. There she managed to find a little nook that gave her quite a bit of seclusion, allowing her to sit by the ravine and drink her beer in peace.

Annabelle sat there and wondered how her life got to this point. Her groin still ached along with her legs as the boy her mother made her have sex with went way too hard with his thrusts. She put her hand on her genitals over top of her shirt and grimaced, remembering the pain, before clutching her breasts and “feeling” the boy’s gleeful squeezing.

He was a virgin, she could tell, and figuratively was a kid in a candy store all over her body, much to the encouragement of her mother. She lost count how many times she took the virginity of the locals, eventually giving her the feeling that her body, the one she worked so hard on, was not her own, it was just a toy for others’ amusement. The boy last night was particularly egregious literally putting his hands and his mouth wherever he pleased, even though he knew nothing about actual foreplay or how to, well, do anything right.

At least he didn’t bite, the one small solace she had.

She then took a sip of her beer before putting it down in disgust, as she began to feel bad she raided Moyen’s wallet again for the beer.

“I have to stop stealing from him,” she said. “He’s going to find out…maybe he already has.”

She then looked at her phone. Sure enough, there was Moyen’s text, asking her where she was. More importantly, Moyen asked her if she knew what happened to the money that was in his wallet.

“Crap,” she said with a heavy sigh. “He knows…”

She then made a decision- she wasn’t going to go back to Moyen’s home. She wouldn’t go back at all.

Annabelle then began to drink her beer, chugging it at times. Within the hour, all six of the beers were finished, causing her to pass out underneath the bridge, falling into a deep sleep.

Two hours later, unbeknownst to her, a man noticed her in her inebriated state. He was Connor Conacher, a friend of Sinn Fein and a “scout” for him in Europe. Conacher walked up to her and, after realizing her condition, flashed a huge smile.

He carefully lifted up her shirt, eventually taking it off before turning her on to her back. He felt up her body and was pleased by what he saw.

Conacher then put his hands on her genitals and began to run them, lubricating them. He saw her body get excited, making him fear that she woke up, but she did not.

He then undid his pants, put on a condom and proceeded to have sex with her, first going slow before allowing himself to build up speed. As he did so, he made a few observations.

“A little rough,” he muttered to himself, “and a bit wide, but nothing a few Kiegel exercises can’t fix.”

Conacher then climaxed inside of her, withdrawing afterwards with glee. He then put his pants back on, putting her hoodie in his backpack and slinging her over his shoulder.

He proceeded to carry her to his car before another man stopped him.

“Is she okay?” the man asked.
“Yup,” said Conacher, trying to keep going.
“She doesn’t look okay,” said the man with concern.
“Listen buddy, mind your own business,” said Conacher, who proceeded to shoot the man to death, allowing him to get to his car and drive away with Annabelle.