Chapter 6 - The Taste of Blood
Camila did not cry. She did not raise a hand to cover her face.
She slowly, deliberately brought two fingers to her torn lip, wiping away the warm, trickling liquid. She tasted the sharp, metallic tang of fresh blood on her tongue.
Doña Elvira strolled into the kitchen, having witnessed the entire violent assault. Instead of intervening or showing an ounce of maternal horror, she casually pulled out a chair, sat down, and placed her teacup on the embroidered tablecloth.
She looked at Camila with eyes as cold as absolute winter.
"Rodrigo has a very fierce temper, darling,"
Doña Elvira spoke, her voice sickly sweet but dripping with toxic venom.
"Do not provoke him so early in the morning. A smart woman knows when to keep her mouth shut."
Don Arturo, Rodrigo’s father, trailed in right behind her. He irritably folded his financial newspaper and tossed it onto the counter.
"We do not tolerate drama in this family,"
Don Arturo stated coldly, completely indifferent to the violence.
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"Don't make a huge scene over a simple slap. Learn your place and act accordingly."
The absolute, terrifying complicity of the entire family made the air in the room feel suffocating. They viewed the brutal assault of a new wife as a standard, acceptable method of establishing dominance.
