Prologue (Part 1)

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On the other side of the wall of riot shields deployed by members of the Bolivarian National Guard, a contained river of protesters held signs with messages like, "Expression without repression" and "Censorship is dictatorship." Some wore the national flag like a cape; others had the Venezuelan tricolor (that had become synonymous with the Opposition) painted on their faces, while the rest were gagged as a symbol of dissent. A cacophony of ladles banging against empty pots, coming from the residential buildings in the distance, was flooding a night that was beautiful despite everything.

In the clear night sky, the stars above didn't seem to care that much about the chaos that made Evelia feel so isolated down here. However, if she was honest with herself, the same could be said about most of her fellow members in the Mission Phidias, including her boyfriend, Adam. None of her friends seemed to notice what was happening outside the new Palacio de Eventos, and if they did, their capacity for denial deserved applause.

"I'll never understand why people still believe in astrology." Adam peered at the moon through his empty bottle of beer as if it were a telescope.

"People are stupid," Evelia said.

"I propose a toast to stupidity!"

It was four minutes to midnight. Evelia knew that because she had looked at her watch over and over again during the past hour. She wanted to leave as soon as possible.

"Human stupidity knows no limits," she said, trying to ignore what the protesters were chanting. "Can you believe that astronomy is still a mandatory subject in Mexico and Spain if you want to sail?"

Adam knitted his brows. "What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?"

"Astrology and astronomy are both useless."

"Of course not! Astronomy is part of a numbers game, having the stars on your side if everything else fails." Adam put the bottle to his lips, forgetting it was already empty. "Besides, like my grandpa used to say, 'Better safe than sorry.'"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Her boyfriend looked into the distance, thinking, and after a long pause, he said, "It's better to be in control than to regret hoping for something to work."

"Ah! The illusion of control."

Evelia cast an oblique look at the crowd and shifted uncomfortably. How did they find out about this? It was all supposed to be confidential, she thought. It didn't matter that she and Adam were safe on the fourth floor, far away from the protesters beyond the fenced parking lot protected by National Guardsmen, a nagging premonition kept haunting her.

"Let's toast to that as well!" Adam tried to take a sip of his bottle, and once again, he looked at it bewildered. "I'm out of gas. Do you want something?"

"No."

"You haven't touched your drink."

Evelia threw her red wine out of the balcony; her eyes followed the liquid until it splashed on the ground between the two Ford Explorer 2007 cars parked below them.

"I don't like it."

"The wine? I'll get you—"

"No. The wine is fine. I don't like the game."

Adam blinked several times, open-mouthed. "What?"

"Adam!" Evelia shouted, upset that he wasn't following the conversation.

"See this?" He pointed at the bottle. "I've had enough of these to clean a wound with my breath."

Evelia crossed her arms over her modest chest without uttering a word.

Adam sighed.

"Please, be good to me. What is it you don't like?"

"The game... the numbers game. You know? We were just talking about it like a minute ago." Evelia rubbed her face with her palm. "I hate probabilities."

"What are you talking about?"

"Two percent."

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Evi!"

"Nothing. It's just that..." She paused and bit her lips before continuing. "There's only a two percent chance that a condom won't work."

Adam's drunkenness seemed to disappear all at once.

"What are you saying?"

"Let's toast to the illusion of control," Evelia said with a bitter smile.

"It's bad luck to toast with an empty glass."

Adam and Evelia turned around to see Ernest. He was recording them with a Samsung MiniDV camcorder.

"Dude, we are not in the mood." Adam covered the camcorder's lens with his hand.

"Shit, some might say this is not a party but a funeral," Ernest joked.

Adam's face remained stony. "I mean it."

"Dude, God is unforgiving," Ernest said.

Evelia rolled her eyes. Her friend had the unpleasant habit of quoting the Bible when he drank too much.

"Please—" Adam said.

"Remember to keep the Sabbath day holy! Yes, sir. And today is Friday night, my friends."

"That's not what it means," Evelia complained.

"Blessed are those who keep the Lord's laws." Ernest took a moment to burp. "And the president ordered Rafael to document everything in the Mission Phidias, and the Mission ends with this party... And the party is inside!"

Evelia tightened her jaw and spun around as Ernest raised his camcorder again.

"Go on, Adam, I'll be there in a minute."

She could sense her boyfriend's gaze on her neck.

"Evi—"

"C'mon, you heard her!" Ernest said.

"You sure, Babe?" Adam insisted.

Evelia nodded.

When the door slid shut behind her, she exhaled and realized that she was shaking.

"Get a hold of yourself, Evi," she muttered to herself. "Put on your best poker face and see this through."

She rubbed the goosebumps from her arms. Her wristwatch struck midnight. Even though she knew deep down that she needed to head back inside, she found solace in the —

Silence?

Evelia started when she noticed the protesters' chants outside the Palacio had stopped. Without wanting to, she found herself looking up.

"It can't be."

An uncontrollable chill went down her spine.

The stars had disappeared from the sky. Above her, there was nothing more than terrible and unfathomable darkness.

To be continued...

LIKED WHAT YOU READ? CHECK OUT MY OTHER FULL NOVEL!

A NOTE TO YOU:

Hi. Well, first of all, English is not my first language, so I if you notice something odd that I might improve, please let me know. I would love to hear from you!

Mixing reality and fiction, my Wattpad debut novel is intended to mirror my worst fears and offer you a harrowing snapshot of the real horrors that forced me to leave Venezuela. I hope you will accompany me through this entire journey as I publish a new part every Friday. 

Finally... YOUR VOTE MATTERS. Do it! It just a click. Oh! And please ADD. 

Thanks from the bottom of my heart. 

Update: I modified one paragraph a bit so that the set-up for something that happens in the first doorway of no return was better executed. 


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