you had been captured by the Las Almas Cartel. You were a drug dealers daughter, but that dealer had a debt they owed

you were ties to a chair in a room that looked much like an interrogation room, you had been tortured for weeks

she struck your face once more as a tear fell down your face, she smiled as she spoke “Esa es mi chica” her brown, almost back eyes bore into yours. You felt a sense of safety with her. She spoke again “such a good girl” she lifted your chin gently.