This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise showed, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this story are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over the age of eighteen.
Santo Diablo Pt. 7 Recruiting, Reminiscing, Revenge, and Recovery
My parents always called me Rose, although my given name is Rosa. I was born in Guatemala. My father always wanted a boy, but after my younger sister was born, my mother couldn't have any more children from complications during childbirth. My younger sister received all the attention from my mother, which left me the odd child out. My father wanted little to do with either of us, but stayed married to my mother out of a sense of loyalty and duty.
From the age of five, when my younger sister was born, I had to watch out for myself. That made me independent and headstrong. That didn't go over well with my father. He beat me often because of my actions and my mouth. When I reached the age of sixteen, I left home. Life on the street was better than black eyes and bruises. I received word from a family friend a little over a year ago that my sister was missing and presumably taken by human traffickers.
The Mendoza cartel operates throughout Central America and became the number one suspect in who had my sister. By this time, I lived in Mexico, but when I heard about what happened, I traveled back home. The same father I left greeted me. Between the curses and punches thrown my way, I gathered he blamed me for what happened. Shortly after I left, my family fell on hard times. My father was injured and unable to tend the land where he grew the vegetables my family sold. Without me at home, all the work fell on my mother and sister, but they could not keep it up. I wasn't there to help, so they had to sell their land.
What money they received from the sale went to my father's medical bills and the cheap shack they lived in, leaving little else. To survive, my mother took on any odd job she could. That included cleaning, sewing, and cooking. My sister helped, but there's only so much a teenager without usable skills can do. My sister found a job as a hostess in a local restaurant for a few hours a week, and that's where people surmised she came across the cartel's radar.
My sister is beautiful, taking after my mother. I, unfortunately, took after my father, which explains my plain looks and heavier build. No one has ever called me beautiful, but that's ok. I found myself with a decision. My father blamed me for their situation, and my mother wasn't talking to me because my father forbid it. I had always gotten along with my sister, but I hadn't talked to her since I left. I doubt the letters I sent her made it through my father because I never heard from her. Would I try to find my sister and put my life in danger, or leave it and walk away forever?
I tried to find my sister. The chance of finding her was slim to none, but I couldn't just turn my back on her, and my sister did nothing to deserve the fate that awaited her. I had to learn as much about the cartel as I could, so I inserted myself into the only place I knew I would run into cartel members; as a prostitute. I only plied my trade around areas frequented by the cartel. This also gave me access to the other women selling themselves, and I gathered as much information as I could.
I suppose my inquiries were raising suspicion, because it wasn't long after that they took me. I booked time with one of my regular men, a member of the cartel. When I arrived at the hotel, three men jumped me and threw me into a car. After an hour's drive, they pulled me into an old house. They started asking me questions while I was beaten and abused. By the time the sun rose the next morning, I would have welcomed death, but the men had other things in mind.
They took me to another house and chained me to a bed. Two men came in, held me down, and one of them shot me up with some kind of drug. After an hour, the men started arriving, one after another. The drugs clouded my mind, and I had no energy to fight back. My days settled into alternating between drugs and sex. They gave me a shot in the morning, afternoon, and evening. I had to perform sex all day for the cartel's customers. I thought my life was over. That existence wasn't a life at all, and I didn't see a way out. I was ready to die.
One day three men came in, unshackled me, and took me out to a van with the other women in the house. We must have driven all day and night with no food or water before arriving at our destination. We were all taken into a warehouse and locked in cages. I heard the guards talking and put together that they had sold us to someone who needed women to work in their brothels. They planned on shipping us out in a few days once they gathered all the women and received payment.
That's when you came in with your soldiers and saved us. I owe my life to you, as do the other women that were with me. I don't know how I can ever repay you.
"I'm glad we were there to help you." I answered. "Should I call you Rosa, or Rose? Which do you prefer?"
"Rose is good." She answered. "I've always liked that better. And you're Mr. Burkhart? Right?"
"Yes, and please call me Rich." I answered. "Rose, you're here because you didn't want to go back home. Is that correct?"
"Yes, sir, it is." Rose answered. "I have nowhere to go back to. My family wants nothing to do with me, and whatever life I had vanished when I disappeared last year."
"I'm sorry to hear all of that, Rose." I replied. "I'm talking to you because you've passed the other tests and interviews we have. I'm the last step before you're invited to join our company. You'll have two choices if you do. You will either enter our training program for our Black Widows, or work in our security division."
