" The Return of the Eagle" By Victoria Romao Nobrega ('23)

The Return of the Eagle
The room is disgusting. The walls are gray from dirt. In a high spot at the ceiling, it is possible to see the light color of peach the walls used to be. The floor is filled with a yellow liquid that reminds me of vomit, and on top of that, there are mice eating small pieces of something I cannot identify. All I know is that the smell of this horrible, disgusting, dark room reminds me of rotten milk. The necklace is in my hand. I’m holding it tight, so tight it hurts, and I repeat to myself those sentences that long ago I memorized:

“My name is Alessia Grey. I’m twenty-two years old. I’m from Louisiana. My father is Richard Grey and he is a bank man. My mother is a teacher, her name is Ana Grey. I have two sisters: Lexie is the youngest and today she should be 10 years old. My other sister is Amanda, and she was 15 the last time I talked to her. Which was two years ago, while I was in Paris.” I tie the necklace to my chest tightly, I don’t want to lose it.

Then I hear voices, loud manly voices. They are talking about me and about my destiny. Before they used to make sure I wasn’t listening, but now it’s almost as if they want me to hear, like they want me to know what is going to happen to me.

“They said forty.”

“NO! She is at least one! I won’t settle for anything less than that!”

“One is way too much, they won’t accept it.”

“So, we do something else!”

The man shouting, Albert, is the boss. He is obsessive and aggressive. No wonder he is mad. ONE. Yes, that is too much, no one will ever settle for this. Especially because of me. I’m ordinary, not too tall, not too short, black hair and dark eyes. Now under these conditions, my hair looks like a rat’s nest, my eyes are not as bright as they used to be, and I look shorter than ever. I’m not special, but I know what they mean. And I fear for me. For my future.

The voices fade away and I hear heavy footsteps in the hallway. This is it. My fate was decided. The footsteps get closer and closer. The echo of mean laughter is loud in my mind, saying, “You are done, little girl.”  

The laughter continues until the door opens with a hard movement. It is her, my disgrace, mocking me. She is wearing a black dress, way too tight for her, her once blond hair now a vomit-colored yellow. But what bothers me the most is her teeth—and the smell. Her teeth are the same color as the room, gray and rotten. And her smell. Oh! The smell, simply disgusting.

“Get up. I have to set you up for the meeting.”

“The meeting?” My voice is trembling; this is not what I was expecting.

“Yes, they couldn’t decide what to do with you. So you are going to the meeting. Now quit questioning me and let’s go.”

I get up, obeying as they taught me to: “Obey us, be a good girl, and nothing will happen to you.” I’m walking behind her, my legs are shaking, but I keep moving forward. The hallway, just as dark and disgusting as the room, seems to never end. After walking for what seems like a very long time, we enter a room. Her life has definitely changed since I got here. This room, which I assume to be her room, is beautiful. The walls are white and perfect, without a single mold spot. The bed is made of gold, with a mattress so high that it makes my body naturally relax at the sight of it. There is also a dresser, with the same pattern as the bed, and a closet bigger than the room itself, filled with clothes of the most expensive brands of the world.

“What are you looking at? Come in at once!”

I realize that I am staring. I walk into the room. The smell inside the room is nothing like the outside smell. It is sweet. It is clean. I could never have imagined that a room could look and smell like that in this place. 

“The bathroom is inside the closet. Take a shower and use some of that almond oil that is in there.”

I nod and walk in the closet. So many beautiful things, dresses, bags, shoes. I’ve never imagined seeing all of those in the same place. The bathroom is as clean as the room, filled with all the products necessary to make anyone look beautiful. Fifteen minutes later I smell like almonds, my skin is soft, and my hair is washed. She starts to brush my hair as I’m sitting in a chair in front of a table filled with makeup. 

“There are some things you can do to have a place like this, you know?”

“Like what?” I ask her. I imagine what she is going to say. But that doesn’t make me any less curious.

“Well, obey is one of the things. But that you already know. Once you pick a target, do everything he wants, everything he needs. Then he will give YOU everything you want.”

“So that is what you did, hum?” I regret saying that as the words come out of my mouth.

The brush stops on my hair. I look at the mirror and for a second, I see in her eyes the person she used to be, the dreams and desires that were once hers.

“Yes. And look where I am now and where you are,” she says abruptly. After a brief second, I remember: obey them.

“You are probably right.”

“I know I am. Come, we need to choose a dress for you, and a coat. It is cold outside.”

I get up, walk into the closet as she goes by the dresses. First, she picks a red one, but according to her, the color is wrong for my complexion. Then she chooses a golden one, but I look too “yellow” while wearing it. Finally, she settles for a long, simple, green dress, with a black coat over it.

While she is dressing me, she touches my necklace.“Take this off and throw it out.”

“NO!”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I…. It just means a lot to me.” I look at the floor expecting something bad to happen.

“Alright, just put the heart pin to the back then.”

I do as she says, and I start to turn it off. Thirty minutes later, I’m in the car, on my way to the meeting. The man that was talking with Albert is driving, and Albert is beside him. She is sitting in the back next to me. A loud noise comes from the bottom of the car and we stop. 

“What the hell?”

“I think it is one of the tires, sir, I’ll check.”

“Hurry up! We can’t be late.”

One minute later, the man opens the door and confirms that we have a flat tire. The three of them get out and order me to stay inside, of course. They leave the back door open to check on me. As I’m waiting, I use the window to support my head, and start to look outside, to life, to people walking in every direction, cars going everywhere, anywhere. With the corner of my eye, I see it. The Eagle. This is my chance. I take the handle of the door, but my hand returns to my lap as fast as it left it. I shouldn’t. If I can’t reach it, they will kill me. I take a deep breath; the necklace is pulsating around my neck. NO. I have to try. My name is Alessia after all.

I take off my shoes, breathe in as much air as I can. Pull the handle and I’m on the street running. I’m so numb that I can’t see or feel anything. My only focus is the eagle at the end of the street.

“Get her!” I hear that monstrous voice. 

The man starts to run after me, and as I turn slightly to look at them, I see the most mesmerizing thing. She is smiling. And nodding at me. I look in front of me once again, focusing on the eagle. When I am about 500 meters from my destiny, I feel a grotesque hand pulling my coat. “NO!” I think. I am so close. He starts pulling me back towards the car. I lost. But then as a signal from whoever I believe, he trips, I pull myself forward, take off my coat and run once again. This time he won’t get me. My feet are burning but I keep moving. I enter the eagle house, and in less than five seconds at least ten agents surround me, pointing guns at me. My eyes are desperate. The man that was running after me is nowhere to be seen, my dress is a mess and I have bruises all over my arm. I know what they are thinking when they tell me to freeze, so I do the only possible thing that can help me at this moment: I drop to my knees, put my hands up in the air, and repeat the words that long ago I memorized for this moment:

“My name is Alessia Grey. I’m twenty-two years old. I’m from Louisiana. My father is Richard Grey and he is a bank man. My mother is a teacher, her name is Ana Grey. I have two sisters: Lexie is the youngest and today she should be 10 years old. My other sister is Amanda, and she was 15 the last time I talked to her. Which was two years ago, while I was in Paris.”

I hear deep breaths being taken by the agents. A single tear escapes my eyes and I know, everything will be okay.