[EN]
Hanging on the bonfire I feel how the fire begins to burn my feet, the skin melts like butter and the curious eyes that reflect morbid morbidness disguised as morality look at me attentively.
The fire is melting the stains of Mr. Mc Holld's filthy touch.
That day he looked at me lasciviously. I could feel him gazing into my soul, surely imagining what lay beneath my ragged facades. I had weeks between looks and comments. Chubby and with greasy sweat on his face, he asked me to clean his barn.
I went, not without some fear, praying every prayer I had ever heard in my life. Asking providence that if there was a God, he would take care of me that day like never before.
However, I was ignored by providence, and God passed my prayer by. Maybe because I am not baptized. Maybe because I am a bastard. Maybe because I was born and conceived in sin, sins that were not even mine.
I began to clean up the straw and tidy up the tools on the floor. He said to me "look in the horse's straw to see if you can find my wife's ring".
I bent down to search the ground on my knees for that damned ring, unsure if it was even true. Nothing. Not a glimmer. The needle in the haystack. But I felt him looking at me with amusement, and my blood was getting cold. I began to shiver.
"You're blind girl, get up. Come and tie the braids of my boot tightly." And so I did, I stood in front of him, and bent down without looking him in the eyes. I started to tie the braids and I heard the zipper being unzipped, I felt and smelled a rancid smell, a very sour sweat.
I looked up. I had his disgusting member in front of my face.
I heard the barn door, his wife was watching us. Red with anger. I watched her pleading for help, for mercy. "Get me out of this" my eyes were screaming.
She had her hands in fists, but being the woman of the house she just looked at him, at us. And he, the head of the house just said "Close the door and leave". And so he did.
He didn't reproach her, he didn't get me out of that situation. She ate her jealousy, and allowed her husband to rape me at his pleasure, for hours. All that damn day.
I arrived home covered in blood, with my eyes elsewhere. Covered in scratches, bites, bumps and hickeys. His scratches were in tatters, and his hair was a nest.
His wife looked at me with hatred. With fury. I returned the intensity of the feeling. Pimp. Useless. She did nothing, so to me she was an accomplice. Infamous she asked me "Where is my husband? I need to talk to him, since he's done using you."
My gaze returned to the present, and I smiled for the first time that whole damn day.
-He's dead. His body is in the barn. You can look for your ring yourself.
She started screaming curses, accusations and barbarities at me. I felt so much hatred for her and her disgusting patriarchal culture. Fed up with her unbearable voice and her screaming I just told her:
If you don't hurry her flesh is going to fill with flies.
"Damn you" he said before running to the barn.
I had nowhere to go. I went to the church for shelter. She came hours later. Accusing me of being a witch.
"You seduced my husband and then murdered him." A very short trial ensued. I was a bastard maid, no matter what I said they were going to convict me. (She was rich, I was poor. She was a lady, I was a maid).
So I told the truth. I began my eager tale, about what a swine and filthy husband she was. About how she resigned herself to watch, shut up and obey. How he tore and abused my body. Let it all out. The dirty words, the immoral acts and how I couldn't even sit down after her abuse. The disgust I felt...and how I saw the ring as my head was on the floor, as I was anally enveloped.
So I crawled out carefully, little by little and took the knife from the tools. I stabbed him several times, I can't count, so I don't know how many. That knife had a diabolical edge. The first was for defense, the others were for morbid pleasure. I enjoyed every stab I gave him. And may I go to hell for my actions if God so judges.
But I have no regrets.
They decided that a woman could not do such an atrocity. I was to them a demon's envoy. And of course my mouth was foul and I was telling lies, I was the depraved seductress and I would go to the stake.
As the heat of the flames consumes me and boils on my skin, I say to myself: My prayers were never heard by God, and I will die accused of being a witch.
-I wish I had called upon the devil to give him my soul if this was to be my fate, and to have engulfed this whole damned town, and every one of its inhabitants, in flames.
Amidst the heat of the flames, the air turns cold and I can feel my skin crawl as I hear a voice in my neck whisper, "-You have made your call. I have come.
Let us negotiate. "
Colgada en la hoguera siento como el fuego empieza a quemar mis pies, la piel se va derritiendo como mantequilla y los ojos curiosos que reflejan morbo disfrazado de moral me miran atentamente.
El fuego va deshaciendo las manchas de tacto inmundo del señor Mc. Holld.
Aquel día me miró lascivo. Lo sentía recorrerme hasta el alma con la mirada, seguro imaginando lo que había debajo de mis arapientas fachas. Tenía semanas entre miradas y comentarios. Regordete y con sudor grasiento en el rostro, me pidió limpiar su granero.
Acudí no sin cierto miedo, rezando cada oración que alguna vez en la vida escuché. Pidiendo a la providencia que si había un Dios, me cuidara ese día como nunca.
Sin embargo fui ignorada por la providencia, y Dios paso mi oración de largo. Quizá porque no estoy bautizada. Tal vez porque soy bastarda. Puede ser, porque nací y fui concebida en pecado, pecados que ni eran míos.
Empecé a limpiar la paja y a poner orden en las herramientas del suelo. Me dijo "busca en la paja del caballo si encuentras el anillo de mi mujer".
Me agache a buscar en el suelo de rodillas aquel maldito anillo, insegura de que si quiera fuera cierto. Nada. Ni un brillo. La aguja en el pajar. Pero lo sentía mirándome con diversión, y mi sangre se iba poniendo fría. Empecé a sentir escalofrío.
"Estás ciega muchacha, levántate. Ven y amarra bien las trenzas de mi bota". Y así lo hice, me puse delante de él, y me agache sin mirarlo a los ojos. Empecé a amarrar las trenzas y escuché como se bajaba la cremallera, sentí y un olor rancio, a sudor muy agrio.
Levanté la mirada. Tenía delante de mi cara su asqueroso miembro.
Escuché la puerta del granero, su mujer nos observaba. Roja de cólera. La observé implorando ayuda, piedad. "Sacadme de esto" gritaban mis ojos.
Ella tenía sus manos en puños, pero siendo la mujer de la casa se limitó a mirarlo, a mirarnos. Y él, el jefe de la casa solo dijo "Cierra la puerta y vete". Y así lo hizo.
No le reprochó nada, no me saco de esa situación. Se comió sus celos, y permitió que su marido me violara a placer, por horas. Todo ese maldito día.
Llegue a la casa cubierta de sangre, con la mirada en otra parte. Cubierta de arañazos, mordiscos, golpes y chupones. Tenía los arapos hechos jirones, y el cabello vuelto un nido.
Su mujer me miró con odio. Con furia. Yo le devolví la intensidad del sentimiento. Alcahueta. Inútil. No hizo nada, así que para mí fue cómplice. Infame me preguntó "¿Donde esta mi marido? Necesito hablar con él, ya que terminó de usarte".
Mi mirada volvió al presente, y sonreí por primera vez en todo ese maldito día.
-Esta muerto. Su cuerpo está en el granero. Puedes buscar tu anillo tú misma.
Empezó a gritarme maldiciones, acusaciones y barbaridades. Yo sentía mucho odio por ella y su asquerosa cultura patriarcal. Harta de su voz insoportable y sus alaridos solo le dije:
Si no te das prisa su carne va a llenarse de moscas.
"Maldita seas" dijo antes de correr al granero.
Yo no tenía a donde ir. Fui a la iglesia buscando refugio. Ella fue horas más tarde. Acusándome de bruja.
"Sedujo a mi esposo y luego lo asesino". Se abrió un juicio muy corto. Yo era una criada bastarda, sin importar lo que dijera iban a condenarme. (Ella era rica, yo pobre. Ella era una dama, yo una criada).
Así que dije la verdad. Empecé mi afanado relato, sobre lo cerdo e inmundo que fue su marido. Sobre cómo ella se resigno a ver, callar y obedecer. Como desgarro y maltrato mi cuerpo. Deje salir todo. Las palabras sucias, los actos inmorales y como incluso no pude sentarme luego de su abuso. El asco que sentí...y como vi el anillo mientras mi cabeza estaba en el suelo, mientras era envestida analmente.
Me fui arrastrando con cuidado, poco a poco y tomé el cuchillo de las herramientas. Se lo clave varias veces, no se contar, así que no sé cuántas. Tenía un filo diabólico aquel cuchillo. Lo primero fue por defensa, las demás fueron por morbo. Disfrute cada puñal que le di. Y que me lleve el infierno por mis actos si así lo juzga Dios.
Pero yo no me arrepiento de nada.
Decidieron que una mujer no podía hacer tal atrocidad. Yo era para ellos una enviada del demonio. Y por supuesto mi boca estaba sucia y decía mentiras, yo era la depravada seductora e iría a la hoguera.
Mientras el calor de las llamas me consume y hierve en mi piel, me digo a mi misma: Mis oraciones jamás fueron escuchadas por Dios, y moriré acusada de ser una bruja.
-Desearía haber llamado al diablo para darle mi alma si este iba a ser mi destino, y haber envuelto en llamas a todo este maldito pueblo, y cada uno de sus habitantes.
En medio del calor de las llamas, el aire se torna frío y puedo sentir como mi piel se eriza al escuchar una voz en mi cuello que susurra: "-Tu haz hecho tu llamado. Yo he acudido.
Negociemos. "
Illustration made by @ragaroot for this story./Ilustración hecha por @ragaroot para esta historia
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