What Happened To Belen - Blog Posts
What Happened to Belen?
Thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! I so enjoyed reading Pedro Pascal's book recommendation "What Happened to Belen?" and found it particularly insightful. For those of us Joel girls in mourning I wrote a pivot fiction for Pena you might check out at Pedge's Bookshop! Pair it with Pena's Playlist for the full Narcos experience :)
“Two days from now will be the first anniversary of the date I effectively regained my freedom. How will I ever forget the day I set foot on the street again, with my angels! How will I ever forget how much they helped me! How will I ever forget all the women who spent hours waiting to welcome me outside! How will I forget my fellow inmates, police guards and the night we said goodbye! How will I ever forget my family, who was anxiously waiting for me! How will I ever forget that day! Everyone awaited my return after two and half years of unjust imprisonment. How will I ever forget that was the day…I WAS REBORN! How will I ever forget the day one of my angels put a pencil to paper and wrote down the words I couldn’t speak! A year after my release I can only give thanks to God and my angels. Who is it that said we don’t have angels? I can testify today that they exist. How will I ever forget that amidst all the anxiety and distress my angels were there with me, holding my hand and listening. I am eternally grateful. Thank you! Thanks to every woman and every organization, to the women’s movements and to all the people who did their part to help me, who put on their “Freedom For Belen” T-shirts and went into the street to fight for my freedom.”
"What Happened to Belen" is written by Ana Elena Correa
@littlemisspascal @lizette50 @beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva @wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya @schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @galaxyedging @joelalorian @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave @copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita @harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @yorksgirl @quicax3 @shaunasflannel @shinyanchorobject
What Happened to Belen? Part Two
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Triggers: profanity, pornography, smoking, attempts at Spanish, contemporary canon for "Narcos" character, fainting, discussions of the book "What Happened to Belen" which involve topics of abortion, miscarriage, homicide, women's rights, medical malpractice, judicial injustice, menstruation, harassment etc...
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Words: 5k
“Take it outside” you muttered, standing quickly….too quickly, and nearly tripping over the base of the counter at your feet. Everything was so blindingly bright. Stars were beginning to enter your periphery once again, if you could just get some more Advil….Your thoughts started to slog slowly forward, as though on a malfunctioning assembly line, with your feet dragging haphazardly behind them.
“Maybe you should sit back down, hermosa…” Pena began, circling the counter to meet you. “Just get that out of my face!” you pushed your hand against Pena’s perspiration dotted chest, as a high pitched ringing sound drifted into your mind scape. What was happening? You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t see straight. “Hermosa, you’re white as a sheet” but Pena’s voice was nearly inaudible as you focused tightly on the mustache decorating his plump lips. They were moving slowly, SO slowly before the power went out, leaving everything pitch black and sedate....
“Hot as hell out there, hermosa” he huffed, coughing slightly and rushing to help you with the stack of books. “So perhaps you can now tell me, what DID happen to Belen?”…he jested, the smell of nicotine tickling your nose pungently. Your stomach lurched slightly at the fragrance sensitivity. This Advil didn’t seem to be doing much, and your hormones were still raging out of control. You swallowed hard to down the rising bile in your throat, wondering if you wanted to slap Pena across the face or the ass first. “Perhaps I have overstayed my welcome, hermosa?” a concerned look crossed his face as he gauged your unknowable expression.
“No, not at all!” you rallied, wiping the sweat from your brow and attempting to regroup. Pena had been nothing but conciliatory; it was your body you seemed to be at war with.
“Let’s put you to work, agent…” you teased, motioning to the display case and putting your apron back on. “One of my favorite parts of the book is the description of the many women and organizations that rallied for Belen’s aid” you encouraged, returning with your book to the display counter and starting to judiciously display your books of choice.
“Excellent” Pena quipped, taking a step back to admire your burgeoning handiwork.
“At first, the word ‘abortion’ wasn’t even used in legal contexts. It couldn’t be written. What isn’t written does not exist. When in doubt, they used the word ‘homicide’. This didn’t happen all that long ago. In 2016 when Belen’s case first came to light, omitting the existence of abortions was part of the lexicon. But with the inclusion of women’s rights groups like the National Campaign for Abortion, representatives from Pan y Rosas, CLADEM and empathetic journalists, Belen’s story started to gain a voice”.
Pena picked up the book and read from the back cover, “Freedom for Belen! Sex ed so we can decide! Contraceptives avoid abortions! Legalize abortion! Save lives!”.
You gingerly kneeled down, stacking the books aesthetically, hopeful it might grab some attention. “You know, in Argentina, as in many places the world over, you have to make noise outside the country so that people at home will hear about it. A woman’s failure to choose motherhood, whatever the reason, instantly makes her a criminal. Women must reassert the right to say no to something unwanted, whether it’s a partner, a pregnancy, sex or a traditional way of life. They must reassert the right to say no to the social mandates of submission and obedience. And saying no to these things means saying yes to our bodies, our emotional lives, our sexuality, to our participation in society, work, politics and everywhere else” you wiped your hands on your apron admiring your work.
“Well done, hermosa” Pena observed, reading the rest of the book cover, “Belen, you’re not alone. Chin up, Belen we’re with you. We’re fighting for you and for women who’ve been unjustly incarcerated all over the world.” Pena paused to reflect momentarily. “I’m…embarrassed I didn’t know more…” he massaged the back of his neck awkwardly. “This isn’t just about women’s rights. It’s about justice, and I know a thing or two about that…” he placated.
You stood quickly and immediately realized your mistake as bright orbs of crackling energy drifted into your periphery and the smell of iron tickled your nose. Pena was at your side in an instant, hand lightly fixed at your waist, as you swayed unsteadily. “Hermosa?” his voice seemed to be coming from quite a distance away, as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath through your nose. “S-sorry, s-stood up too fast!” you deflected, leaning against him securely for a millisecond before returning to the counter, shaking your head from side to side. It WAS hot in here, and you were more embarrassed then ever at your momentary lapse. Menstruation was SUCH a drag, but you didn’t want to let on about your recent diagnosis. As if womanhood didn’t feel debilitating enough, you had already experienced years of struggle with endometriosis and were newly considering a hysterectomy. You didn’t find yourself in Belen’s position, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the helplessness she might have felt, judged by the medical community, government, society at large…and maybe even…herself. This was a piece of information you were determined to keep clandestine. Javier Pena’s eyes swam before you as his image coalesced into focus. “Did you hear me?” he gently asked again.
“Uh…sure….yes!” you piped up, immediately unsure of your response. He nodded curtly bringing you a stool and placing it behind the counter for your respite. “Perhaps my endless questions have needlessly exhausted you”. Your cheeks reddened with the heat AND embarrassment as you chastised yourself for existing. “I’m fine…just overheated is all” you huffed as Pena cleared his throat and sat back down across from you.
“So, what happened to Belen? How did she find redemption in such a storm of injustice?” he asked.
You sighed heavily, retrieving your book and flipping through the pages. “Well, at first she had to survive in the prison system. Family visits, challenging circumstances, holidays…This was an environment she had never been in before…”. You read,
“I kept walking around the prison and talking to women who were there for reasons unknown to me. I realized some are doing time for murder and others for stealing, and that many are inside because they covered for a partner or family member. Soledad told Belen about a young woman called Maria Magdalena. The doctors who treated her at the hospital accused her of having an abortion. And that’s not right. medical staff have a duty of care”.
Pena dragged his thumb across his bottom lip pensively, starting to bite at the cuticles. “Seems like it all happened so fast. One minute she was living her life, the next…” his voice trailed off reflexively.
“There was no DNA evidence. The report mentioned more than one fetus, and none of them were preserved. There were no records showing Belen’s admission even. There is no evidence, there is simply none. The doctors who accused her were still living their lives. The men who convicted her continued like nothing happened.”
“And I’m still in here” Belen says. All I’m asking is for them to reevaluate the case. They don’t know what it’s like waking up in the same place every day, being away from your family ever day. They’re in their homes. They don’t know what it’s like to have to file a request just to see a friend. The judges are in their chambers, smoking, drinking coffee. And they have to live with the fact that they sentenced me to this place. What happened to me happened because I couldn’t get 20,000 pesos in less than forty eight hours. If I’d had the money, I could’ve defended myself. But I thought, why should I have to pay money when I did nothing wrong? Worse still, they tried to pass off a miscarriage as a murder, seemingly for political gain. ”
Pena had run out of words, reaching into his back pocket for another cigarette and rolling it between his fingers.
“In our society, when people wan to hide something, they find someone to blame. They point their fingers at those who can’t defend themselves, and they accuse them. They don’t listen to them. These people become guilty because of their faces, their clothes, because they’re poor or because they’re women.”
“Luckily, Soledad began to identify the discrepancies at Belen’s first trial,
“The doctor has a legal obligation to maintain confidentiality unless expressly told otherwise by the patient. The patent’s silence can in no way be seen to provide a valid ad rational motive to breach the physician’s duty to professional confidentiality. All the evidence adduced in Belen’s case should have been inadmissible. The physician’s and midwives’ testimonies were in themselves a crime. She was convicted without valid evidence. In addition, no one can be compelled to testify against himself. It is a cruel, latent and ignoble violation of this precept to use the distress of a women who had an abortion to report her crime, whether wrenched via exploited confession or duress through a state of physical and spiritual helplessness. Moreover, public interest cannot justify so inhuman a dilemma; prison or death.”
“Finally, some common sense!” Pena exclaimed, dangling the cigarette in his mouth and immediately removing it under your scolding stare. “Lo siento, hermosa, continue por favor…” he returned to delicately fingering the unused smoke.
“At the time, Belen did not know she was pregnant, nor did she look pregnant. She never stopped menstruating and felt no movement in her belly, her body was normal and her breasts hadn’t grown. She and her mother went to the emergency room for the abdominal pain. A person who wants to commit homicide—a person who knows they’re going to have a baby and is determined to cause their death simply doesn’t go to a hospital”
“Obviously!” Pena retorted, grabbing for his lighter and subsequently tossing it on the counter impotently.
You shook your head reprimandingly, “It was nearly two years of waiting and resolving before Belen had her second day in court, facing her original sentence, this time with Soledad at her side. Belen recounts,
“First of all, I’d like to say I didn’t know I was pregnant, so you can’t tell me that I committed the atrocity that I’m being accused of. How can you say I cut the umbilical cord? Where is the DNA evidence that proves the discovered fetus of 36 weeks was mine? They gave me an intravenous sedative and when I awoke, I was covered in blood and police officers were examining my private parts. No one looked after me, before treating me like I was a murderer…”
These trials end up being more moral than legal, ironically enough as God is said to serve in the capital. The morning in court when the judges read her the grounds for her conviction, Belen cries again. Unlike the day her verdict was read the courthouse i packed because now people in Tucuman know what is happening. “Calm down, no one can see you anymore” a prison guard encourages. Now raise your head and look outside. All these people are here for you”. Belen sits up, at first fearfully. Finally, Belen relaxes. she cries, but this it’s different”.
“Some of us can raise our voices and have the privilege of health care access. Others can afford to become mothers. Others experience the same troubles Belen did but are less formatted because their cases aren’t talked about, and so they are still in prison. Then there are others who aren’t here to tell their stories today, because they died trying, during miscarriage. This issue moves me. A great deal. I still don’t understand how it is that in the 21st century we women still have to relinquish our independence and our freedom to a society that imposes its way of life on us. Why do we have to be the talk of the town? Why do we have to air our most private decisions?”.
Pena gulped in silence, possibly reflecting on his own private decisions, playing with the lighter in front of him. You grabbed a tissue from your apron and wiped your brow profusely. The AC had been broken all week, but it was supposed to be getting cooler, not hotter. The words of the book began to blur and dance in front of you, as you put a wearied hand over your eyes. “What time does your shift end?” Pena asked, already aware of how propositional his question sounded, but your countenance was pale and blanched as compared to the start of the day. Something was obviously wrong, but he didn’t want to leave you alone in whatever plight you found yourself.
Unhearing, you sallied forth. “Where was I?” you blinked, squinting at the book with determination. “Eventually she has her day in court, and things start to change slowly but surely.
“Belen starts to receive support from everyone around her at the correctional facility, online and even abroad, The organizations put together an online campaign to denounce the press’ persecution of Belen and call for people to leave her alone. The campaign consisted of people taking selfies with a sign that says are you looking for Belen? I’m Belen. Men and women of all ages, some angry, others amused, some bearded, others very young, hold the same sign and post it online with a caption—‘They’re trying to infringe on her privacy, to see her face. But what they don’t realize is that Belen isn’t just one person. She thousands! Belen is all of us!’”
Pena leaned back against the stool beaming momentarily, before absentmindedly lighting the cigarette in front of him and taking a deep drag. “Victory” he puffed before viewing your incredulous face. His expression immediately fell with chagrin, considering how to snub out the cigarette, whilst desperately inhaling. “Lo siento, hermosa” he mumbled into the cigarette, possibly trying to inhale it in one draft. He looked towards the front door, considering an ill-timed exit before taking in your pained look. The fragrant aroma of the cigarette usually would have been fine, but your head was pounding and your abdomen was irritatingly alight with menstrual cramps and distress.
“Take it outside” you muttered, standing quickly….too quickly, and nearly tripping over the base of the counter at your feet. Everything was so blindingly bright. Stars were beginning to enter your periphery once again, if you could just get some more Advil….Your thoughts started to slog slowly forward, as though on a malfunctioning assembly line, with your feet dragging haphazardly behind them.
“Maybe you should sit back down, hermosa…” Pena began, circling the counter to meet you.
“Just get that out of my face!” you pushed your hand against Pena’s perspiration dotted chest, as a high pitched ringing sound drifted into your mind scape. Oh shit, what was happening? You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t see straight.
“Hermosa, you’re white as a sheet” but Pena’s voice was nearly inaudible as you focused tightly on the mustache decorating his plump lips. They were moving slowly, SO slowly before the power went out, leaving everything pitch black and sedate.
This was the WORST mattress you had ever been on, including the taut pillows. It felt hard as a rock. To say nothing of the nicotine infused fragrance of whatever hotel room you found yourself in. Your eyes blinked open hazily, taking in your surroundings. Why did this hotel room look exactly like a Barnes and Nobles?
“There she is” Pena’s voice was amplified to that of a megaphone as the tingling sensation in your arms and legs started to dissipate. You squinted up into the bright lights of the ceiling as Pena’s concerned expression drifted into your line of sight. You licked your lips to say something, but your mouth was as dry as cotton. Were you on the floor?
“Power outage?” you heard your voice rasp quietly, attempting to take stock of the situation.
“I guess you could say that” Pena chuckled softly, running a hand across your forehead. Oh my God, did you have your head on his thigh? You tried to sit up, but felt as heavy as an anvil, as he placed a hand behind your neck. “You sort of had a personal power outage, before fainting into my arms, hermosa” he smiled. “Had me worried, I nearly called the police”. You sank back down against his lap for a second, waiting for the disorientation to pass. “I’m a total ass, no more cigarettes this time, I promise” he apologized, placing a heavy hand on your forehead appraisingly before shrugging with helplessness. “This seemed preferable to books for pillows” he chuckled, the tinge of worry in his voice evident.
“Well this is embarrassing” you finally smirked, focused on breathing deeply and bringing your knees up slightly underneath you.
“Mierda…” he encouraged, leaning against the wall and finally relaxing. “It is your time of the month, no?”. You froze with apprehension at the intimacy of his observation, but quickly relaxed against his thigh once again.
“Guilty as charged” your cheeks blushed with a crimson hue. This had to be the strangest work day in the history of employment. You found yourself surprisingly grateful that you weren’t alone.
“You’re not the first woman I’ve made faint” Pena tried to tease as you scoffed good-naturedly. You took a look around at the smattering of books littering the floor. “You managed to bring down half the display case with you however” he noted, straining to reach for the copy of “What Happened to Belen” before settling back against the wall. You both sat in silence for a minute or two, thankful that no customers were entering the bookshop, as Pena thumbed through the book introspectively. You were surprised at the tenderness in his voice as he started to read Belen’s words to her supporters,
“Greetings to all the women, to the warriors, and to everyone who’s stood by me until now. I want to thank you for making my fight your own. Thank you for standing up for me, for making sure my voice and truth were heard. I was silent for two years. I couldn’t bring myself to talk. I was scared. They told me I would get life. They convicted me on hearsay alone, for being poor, for going to a public hospital, for not having the money to to a private clinic and hire a good lawyer. I haven’t been home or seen my family March 21st, 2014. They robbed me of so much. All I wanted was help and instead I was detained, surrounded by police officers and accusatory fingers. Two years and three months away form home. They took away my life! Did any of them wonder how I felt that night? They accused me and asked if I’d induced an abortion. My mother was mistreated, too. No one cared about me. She’s ignorant, she doesn’t know anything, they probably told themselves. Even though I said I hadn’t done anything, that I hadn’t killed anyone. I didn’t even know I was pregnant. I cry because of the injustice I’m experiencing. But I’m also calm, because I know I will get justice. I am stronger now, calmer. I never hurt anyone, never stole, never killed, I don’ know drugs. I’ve worked my whole life. I always did everything I was supposed to. I will forever be grateful to every who’s helped my voice be heard. I’m sending you all my love. It makes me so happy not be alone. Thank you and thank you again to all you women. Let us all fight and be heard so that no woman is imprisoned for abortion again. ow your struggle is my struggle, too”.
Pena’s soft baritone voice hummed quietly as you heard the dull traffic sounds outside. Dusk was starting to descend as you looked up into his face. You could have sworn you saw the smallest of tears glistening at the corner of his eye before he brushed it away, clearing his throat.
“Can you stand, hermosa?” he asked, sitting upright, your head still atop his lap.
“Let’s find out” you parried, his solid hand easing you forward and massaging the back of your neck deftly. A small moan escaped your lips as you tucked your legs beneath you.
“Long day” Pena observed, allowing his hand to drift to your back in slow, methodical circles. “Is this okay, hermosa?”
“More than okay” you realized, scratching at scalp and smiling tiredly. This work day had proven unexpectedly enjoyable, amidst an obstacle course of challenge. You leaned back towards him with a slightly dopey expression. “Thanks for your help, Pena”.
“We aim to please” the corner of Pena’s mouth drifted upwards, as he carefully stood to his feet, offering his hand once again in support. You felt a bit like Bambi at first, getting your legs beneath you and holding on to Pena’s steely grasp. Closing your eyes for clarity, you breathed in his warm fragrance of nicotine, cologne and sweat as Pena watched you intently.
“Nearly done with our story” you whispered, locking eyes with him and finally noticing his hand at your waist, moving in soothing circles.
“I almost don’t want it to end” he replied, licking his lips attentively. You looked towards the clock once again. What had started as a day of doldrums had nearly evaporated before you. One more hour before your shift was over. “Sit back down while I clear things up” he offered, setting you back on the stool definitively and collecting the books at your feet.
“I guess I can be grateful today that we didn’t defund the police” you tried to joke, but caught Pena’s apologetic visage.
“This story is a travesty” he grumbled, collecting the books and handing you the literature of the hour. “I’m as imperfect as the next man, but I joined the DEA to make a difference. Belen’s story is…an embarrassment. I wish I knew how to help”. He set the last of the books on the counter and leaned against it with dejection.
“It’s not all bad” you sighed, uncharacteristically reaching up to cup his face in the palm of your hand, and running a thumb against his five o’clock shadow. Pena’s eyes took on a new sheen of redemption as he took your hand in his. “Tell me” he agreed as you referenced the book once again.
“Finally after nearly three years, Belen is released from prison. She can now begin the long process of championing her government to make the necessary changes,
“The warden insists before her release, ‘You need to understand that you’re not a criminal. You have no reason to hide.” In the evening the cellblock breaks into song and applause. The sounds travel over the wall and infect the women who have been waiting outside since morning. The activists from the organizations form two lines to shield Belen from the cameras. They wear masks of white and green, but their expressions are the same; rigid, stern faces and masks featuring the words, “We are Belen”. Belen steps onto the street watching balloons float high in the sky. “This must be a dream” she wonders, but after two years, four months and twenty three days in prison, Belen gets back some of her freedom”.
Pena smiled, placing his hands on his hips defiantly, “Todo va bien”. He was looking resolutely at the ground and nodding definitively.
“Justice for all” you agreed, feeling tears spring to your eyes at the end of a long day. Stupid hormones. “Thanks to events like ‘Green Action Day’ and the printing of this book, Belen’s government begins the arduous process of lawmaking, and she remains timidly at the forefront.
“It is difficult to conceive of a sphere more ‘private’ than an individual’s own body. The right of individuals to prevent others from invading or interfering with that body is an essential component of a private life, where personal autonomy is paramount…as listed in the Constitution.” The prospects might seem tenuous, but Belen’s case was gaining more and more steam. The majority of women were in favor of legalizing abortion, while a majority of men were against it. Belen says,
“It’s been three years since I was released, and I feel enormously happy and grateful to everyone who helped me through the most difficult time of my life. Today, I am firm in my decision. I’m not the weak woman I was bak then, broken by a patriarchy that, 6 years ago, sentence me to 8 years in prison for a crime I didn’t commit. Now I am a strong woman pumping her arms in the air and calling for an end to the unjust imprisonment of women for abortions. It’s been three years since I was released and I am here, yelling at the top of my lungs; we can do it girls, the patriarch will fall!”
“Freedom fighter indeed” Pena observed, slamming a soft fist against the counter definitively. “It can’t be easy though…reclaiming her life after….everything….”
The fatigue was starting to catch up with you as you searched the book for your notes. “You’re right, the road to redemption is rarely an easy one” you acquiesced.
“She’s been having panic attacks. Then second she walks out of the house, she start shaking and feeling faint. Her heart races. She has regular fits of crying and rage. “It was like my body was still in prison, like it couldn’t get used to me being free. They told me to try therapy, but I could’t make it to the offices, because I got dizzy every time i tried to leave the house. My family helped me with that. And when I got frustrated they would be there to tell me everything was going to be alright. ‘You got out of prison, there’s no way you can’t get out of the house. Sometimes I wake up at night screaming “No, don’t take me! I didn’t do anything wrong!” When the Supreme Court finally issued the decision to exonerate she looks in the mirror and utters the words she would like to say to the whole world. Didn’t I tell you I was innocent?
Belen hasn’t been to a hospital in three years. She still has nightmares of physicians and police officers storming into the operating room. She still feels scared because of how she was treated that night, long ago. Yet she isn’t a fearful person. “One day I’ll probably have to tell people who I am, but I’m taking it slow for now”.
You took a deep breath, smiling at Pena in repose. “Belen has done so much to change the landscape of this discussion, not just in Argentina, but internationally as well. To know that there are other women, facing great struggle, but using their voices to take a stand…” you felt the emotion of the moment swirling within you, but decided to press on… “I know I already live such a privileged life, but you wouldn’t believe…”. Your voice cracked as it bent under the weight of recent challenge and a lump crept into your throat tightly. Pena grabbed your elbow firmly in solidarity.
“Steady, hermosa” he cautioned, stroking higher up to your shoulder with encouragement.
“It’s okay, I mean you’ve already seen me at my worst…Or my most unconscious!” a sound escaped from your lips somewhere between a cry and laugh as your body trembled in place. “The author even talks about the liberation of the women’s rights movement as it relates to women in the workplace. We’re no longer required to hide our sobs in the company bathroom” a big, fat tear rolled down your cheek as Pena lightly brushed it away.
“Fine by me” he whispered. “We all must bear the weight of our burdens, but this isn’t something you have to carry alone”. Your eyes widened with realization at his beautifully articulated point. He was right. In as much as it is our responsibility to articulate the challenge, it is our continued privilege to accept the support. You sniffled quietly as Pena gazed up at the clock knowingly.
“Looks like I’m your only customer for today” he observed softly, turning towards you and pulling you in for a tentative hug. You were about to protest before reconciling to the desire, wrapping your arms lightly around his waist, and trembling in his grasp.
“I wouldn’t have thought you so eloquent when we first met” you mumbled into his shirt, relaxing against his solid frame. Pena rested his head quietly atop yours, swaying a bit from side to side.
“I keep telling everyone that I read Playboy primarily for the articles…” he teased, pulling back to gaze at you pensively. “Time to close up shop” he brushed a few stray tears from your face once again before kissing you lightly on the forehead. The surprise that registered on your face seemed to delight him as he headed to the front door. Turning the sign to the the “CLOSED” position he caught a straggler that was approaching from the sidewalk. “I’m sorry we’re closed for the night!” he shouted through the window as they dejectedly shrugged their shoulders and walked away. He turned back to you gesturing apologetically as you giggled from the counter.
Pena helped you tidy up a bit before you headed back to the locker room to discard your apron and grab your things. Holding the book lovingly in your hands you met him in the foyer before exiting. “I don’t know how to ask this without sounding somewhat brazen…” Pena actually looked embarrassed, rubbing his hand at the back of his neck awkwardly. “But…could I see you home?” he finally confessed, his eyes a deep brown of sincerity. “Just…to make sure you’re okay…or…” he tripped haltingly over his words. It was a strange dichotomy to see such a confident man, momentarily unravelling.
“I’d like that” you smiled tiredly, taking his hand in yours and locking up the bookshop. His hand swung easily in your grasp as you headed to his car.
“So, what finally happened to Belen? Did she get the freedom she so richly deserved?” Pena asked, opening the car door for you and seating you inside.
“See for yourself”. You opened the book to the final chapter, referencing your favorite part;
“I woke up to a message that the Chamber of Deputies had approved the bill, legalizing abortion. I think it’ll become law because women’s suffering is finally out in the open. I learned to fight, little by little and from the bottom. Even though things weren’t easy for me when I moved to Buenos Aires, I began rebuilding my life from scratch, she told the journalist who interviewed her. I never imaged I’d be unjustly imprisoned for there years, for doing nothing, But wounds heal.”
“Two days from now will be the first anniversary of the date I effectively regained my freedom. How will I ever forget the day I set foot on the street again, with my angels! How will I ever forget how much they helped me! How will I ever forget all the women who spent hours waiting to welcome me outside! How will I forget my fellow inmates and the prison guards and the night we said goodbye! How will I ever forget my family, who was anxiously waiting for me! How will I ever forget that day! Everyone awaited my return after two and half years of unjust imprisonment. How will I ever forget that was the day…I WAS REBORN! How will I ever forget the day one of my angels put a pencil to paper and wrote down the words I couldn’t speak! A year after my release I can only give thanks to God and my angels. Who is it that said we don’t have angels? I can testify today that they exist. How will I ever forget that amidst all the anxiety and distress my angels were there with me, holding my hand and listening. I am eternally grateful. Thank you! Thanks to every woman and every organization, to the women’s movements and to all the people who did their part to help me, who put on their “Freedom For Belen” T-shirts and went into the street to fight for my freedom.”
“Excelente” Pena observed, starting the car and turning towards you. “Alright, hermosa, show me the way home” he smiled, tucking a stray hair behind your ear tenderly.
As the author states at the beginning of the book, “There are many people hiding stories we aren’t always prepared to hear.” But after spending the afternoon with Agent Pena and remembering the value of your own unique narrative, you at least were sure this was a story you wouldn’t soon forget.
What Happened to Belen? Part One
Grab a Latte! thanks @timelordfreya for this fun game to "Read Your Color". Enjoy a treat before heading into the Bookshop...
Triggers: profanity, pornography, smoking, attempts at Spanish, contemporary canon for "Narcos" character, Catholicism, discussions of the book "What Happened to Belen" which involve topics of abortion, miscarriage, homicide, women's rights, medical malpractice, judicial injustice, menstruation, harassment etc...
Series Masterlist
Words: 5k
This workday was taking forever.
You looked up at the clock for the umpteenth time on this lazy Wednesday. After several hours, the second hand had moved…5 minutes forward. You rolled your eyes with irritation. It didn’t help that you were on your period. You shifted behind the counter awkwardly, the summer heat already starting to drag across your perspiring skin. If it was already this hot at 11am, you could only imagine what the rest of today would hold. At least you had a good book to keep you company. Taking another perfunctory glance around the bookstore, you floated somewhere between annoyance and gratitude, thankful that more customers weren’t gracing your local Barnes and Nobles. You couldn’t complain. The pay was decent, and you had wanted to be close to your first love; books. Here you were, getting paid to read, drink coffee and mind the bookstore, even on this deplorably hot Wednesday….
The front bell rang abruptly as a customer entered the bookshop, just out of your peripheral sight. Shit. You chastised yourself for your bristling attitude. Were you here to work or not? You smiled with self-deprecation, setting down the book of the hour “What Happened to Belen”, by Ana Elea Correa. You were just PMSing, and already anxious to get back to your re-read of the thought provoking piece about the Women’s Rights Movement. Tucking the book behind the counter, you tightened the strings on your Barnes and Nobles apron and sauntered towards the front with curiosity.
The newfound customer had already disappeared in the annals of the bookshop, so you took a precursory lap around the store, looking for dust mites and books out of place when you spotted the bright pink, silky top stretched across the broadest shoulders you had ever seen. He had his back to you, a pert ass nearly screaming to be pinched, a thin line of perspiration dotting through the flimsy fabric in a straight line down his spine. Hello hormones. Sometimes you really hated being a girl. You noticed the wallet sized protrusion in his back pocket, wondering if his front seam demonstrated a similar bulge. Not wanting to add the description of “lasciviously horny” to your resume, you cleared your throat tentatively to indicate your presence. The statuesque stranger remained undeterred, much like his jeans which were fitted tightly to his tall and lanky stature. Jerk. You neared his stoic posture, raising your eyebrows in judgement at the Playboy Magazine that was held delicately between his fingers. Good hands. Jesus. Get a grip, woman. You noticed a small twitch in his Burt Lancaster like mustache, as he shifted his weight with irritation.
“Can I help you with something, sir?” the sarcasm seemed to drip off of your tongue unintentionally, as you caught a wry smile flash across his countenance before returning to an icy cold demeanor. The stranger grunted in acknowledgment, without removing his fixed stare from the centerfold, his tongue darting out surreptitiously, tinged with lust.
“We have a new section that favors Pulitzer Prize winners” your tone had all the syrup of a honeyed practice, but you were inwardly shocked at your bravado. What the hell were you doing? You didn’t know this guy from Adam, and here you were alone in a bookstore, baiting a complete stranger? The already stolid man seemed to momentarily freeze before casting a sideways glance in your direction as his pupils widened and re-focused. He turned his body towards yours, almost defiantly.
“What do you think, hermosa?” he seemed to taunt, turning the pages of the Playboy towards you as a buxom blonde nearly slapped you across the face with her breasts. “Do you think she reads Nobel Laureates?”. Your face reddened with embarrassment, though stubbornly refusing to back down.
“Maybe…” you whispered, his face softening ever so slightly in response. The shift was incremental, but noted nonetheless. “You can’t always judge a book by its cover”, the words fell out of your mouth sloppily, but with sincerity nonetheless. He stood up slightly taller, considering your words and looking at the magazine centerfold once again. “Too true, hermosa, too true” he seemed to acquiesce. closing the magazine definitively and looking at you with a new appraisal. “What are YOU reading?” he pointedly asked, allowing his eyes to meander over the totality of your body, as though still looking at the magazine contents. You shifted with an annoying arousal that you couldn’t quite shake, noticing the buttons of his shirt dangling precariously open revealing a sun-kissed, tanned torso. Stupid PMS.
“Uh…” your brain stalled like a sputtering car as he smiled sweetly at your unravelling manner.
“Pena” he held his hand out, wiping it deftly across the backside of his jeans and extending it forwards into your halting grasp. “Javier Pena” he matter-a-factly stated, his Adam’s apple bobbing strongly in his throat as a small trickle of sweat cascaded down his sternum. Holy hell. It must be hotter in here than you realized.
“Oh you wouldn’t like me” your eyes widened with horror as he ticked his head to the side curiously. “The BOOK, you wouldn’t like the book…” you rallied, stepping back and nearly falling over, but for his steely grasp that was not releasing.
“Easy now” he teased, reaching into his back pocket and soon displaying a shiny metallic badge with the large letters of DEA printed across the front. “Your secret is safe with me” he lowly intoned, dangerously winking in your direction as you felt a new bout of crimson feather across your face. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your…reading…uh, officer?” you blurted out, apparently unable to string two sentences together with a flashlight as he kept shaking your hand slowly and maintaining eye contact.
“S’okay” he offered, gently releasing your hand and placing his on his hips mischievously. Who was this guy? “M’not on patrol or anything, just looking for a good read and a quick lunch. What’dya recommend, hermosa?” his tongue dragged across his lips seductively as he looked you up and down once again.
Were you hallucinating? Geez, hormones were a drag. “Uhhhh…” your mind seemed to short circuit once again, as though on auto-pilot. “What Happened to Belen?” your voice floated out of your body and hovered above you both tentatively.
“I don’t know, what DID happen to Belen?” he quirked, one eyebrow skyrocketing upwards. “Is this a joke I should know?” he scoffed, straightening the magazine on the rack as you nearly scurried back to the front counter.
“Oh it’s just a book I’m reading about Women’s Rights!” you called over your shoulder, desperate to regain some composure, and hastening back to your isolated perch by the cash register. Safe. His intimidating stature came tentatively lumbering around the corner, as though placating a frightened animal. “I like women” he smiled drolly, nodding at the book in your hands as you looked around the shop haphazardly. I mean, he seemed to be an officer of the law. Other than your own adolescent insecurities, what were you so jittery about?
“I recognize the name from the news, but I don’t know much about this woman, Belen. What was she, some sort of freedom fighter?” he questioned, leaning broadly against the counter and sinking his weight against it. You somehow felt protected and caged in, whilst not entirely disgruntled about it.
“Maybe an accidental one?” you observed, leafing through your copy thoughtfully. “She found herself at the epicenter of the Argentinian discussion of abortion rights, after she was unjustly jailed following a miscarriage. Huh. Miscarriage of justice indeed” you muttered under your breath, watching Pena’s eyebrows furrow in consternation.
“Bullshit” he muttered, his eyes squinting into skeptical lines of incredulity.
Your breath hitched in your throat hesitantly. It sounded nearly implausible on the surface, as you back-pedaled quickly, “Well, like I said, it’s probably not for everyone, and we have some other books along the same themes. There’s ‘A Room of One’s Own’ by Virginia Woolf. Or even ‘Good Night Stories for Rebel Girls’” you started to slide the book behind the counter before Pena’s heavy hand layered on top of yours cautiously, locking eyes with you fixedly.
“More” he stated bluntly, holding your gaze determinedly with his. “Tell me more”.
You swallowed dryly re-opening the book hesitantly. “Well, it’s not surprising that you haven’t heard as much about her. She prefers to remain relatively anonymous, and most people don’t even know what she looks like. But the international ramifications of her story go far beyond Argentina. It triggered international discussions about poverty, women’s rights, abortion, misogyny and much more…” your voice trailed off insecurely, hoping that the DEA agent wasn’t harboring a chip on his shoulder. “There’s a documentary, too” you finished, humiliated at how small your voice had become. Geez, even feminism at the local Barnes and Nobles wasn’t easy. Pena seemed to sense your hesitancy, drawing back from the counter tentatively and looking off into the distance.
“The system is fucked up” he mumbled, kicking the base of the wooden counter and planting his hands once again on his hips defiantly. “Don’t have to tell me, hermosa. I battle the powers that be every damn day of my life. Money, drugs, death. It’s all a fucking nightmare” his words hung in the air heavily, like the humidity that threatened to oppress everything around it. He nodded curtly, drawing a nearby stool up to the counter and planting himself in front of it like a hungry schoolboy. “So, what actually happened to her?”. A momentary image of an interrogation room flitted across your mind, as you wondered how it would be to have this man opposite you in more threatening circumstances. But his demeanor seemed genuine, and you were starting to gain a little confidence in your presentation.
“Okay, well first she has a bout of peritonitis that requires surgery and causes physical complications leading to a dangerous episode of cramping and fatigue. So she goes to the nearby hospital for help, taking her mom with her for support.” You referenced the book in your hands,
“As in many other parts of the world, there are two kinds of hospitals. The clean ones with plenty of doctors and nurses to attend to patients, a clear view through the windows, labs, X-ray machines, ultrasound devices, gauze and emotional support. And then there are the other hospitals where people like Belen go. Two police officers handle her admission’”.
“That seems sketchy as fuck. Why are there police officers at a hospital?” Pena inquires, his stance still wide and foreboding, his arms stretching easily across the counter with control.
“That isn’t even the worst of it” you shake your head uncomprehendingly. “Here, let me read it to you….
‘When Belen finally comes to from the anesthesia she is surrounded by police officers. One of the men in uniform looks at her vagina. They ask where the fetus is. She is still adjusting to the news that she’d been pregnant and not known it, as well as to the news that she had miscarried, so she says nothing. Then a male nurse walks up to her with a small cardboard box. inside is something small and black. He shows it to her and says; “This is your son. Look what you did, bitch.” Belen cries and shouts that she didn’t do anything, so she doesn’t know what they’re talking about. They give her water to calm her down. It is day now and she is kept in the hospital under police custody. When she looks at the officer, she wishes she were dead’”.
Pena’s mouth falls open in disbelief, “The fuck…” he whispers, his eyes growing into a steely sheet of iron, grabbing the book out of your hands abruptly. Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t want to find this man behind the barrel of a gun. You pursed your lips thoughtfully as he rifled through the book, almost searching for redemptive clarity. Maybe you had judged him too harshly as per his proclivities. It seemed like he actually cared. You delicately retrieved the book from his open grasp. “Well, she’s safe now, right? They acquitted her, or issued a formal apology or something?” he asked, tightening his hands into two balls of fury pressed firmly against the wooden counter.
“I’m afraid it wasn’t quite that simple” you lamented. “They take her to prison for an interim period that lasts nearly three years” Pena’s lips tightened to a taut line of reproach. “And she has a string of deplorable lawyers before finally meeting Soledad” you brightened slightly with the first piece of good news in the narrative.
“Wait a damn minute, how can the court imprison someone for having a miscarriage? What about an abortion? I mean, THAT’S still legal, right?” his voice was tinged with incredulity, as you remained grateful that you were the only ones in attendance for your unexpected Ted Talk. This was going to be hard to explain, because it made little to no sense.
“Argentinian abortion laws only came into fruition four years ago, and the discussion of Belen’s story was a HUGE part of that. Prior to that time, most abortions were considered illegal. Even her lawyer Soledad talks about her personal experience, ‘I had an illegal abortion. The whole thing took me by surprise. This can happen to any woman. I went to the kind of place where no one on earth would feel safe. You can imagine what it was like. Suddenly, I was experiencing illegality and its many consequences. The moment when you feel you’ve lost your autonomy, then all your rights, all of them, are suspended. I’ve never talked about it, you know? But my kids are all grown up now. That experience was a huge motivator. Why are women put through that? If it was awful for me, then what must it be like for women who don’t have the resources? Something inside me woke up. I might never get any rest, but I would do something for women’s rights. No one deserves to be treated that way’”.
You set the book down as Pena closed his eyes, attempting to quiet his breathing. He reached a hand behind his head drawing it across the back of his neck tensely and eventually dragging it down the front of his face. “Ay, Dios mio…I thought it was bad in Columbia”.
You paused quietly before offering, “It’s actually worse in Columbia”. Pena seemed to stop breathing momentarily as you continued. “I think Columbia only ratified their rulings in 2022, but don’t quote me on that”. The color drained from Pena’s face with embarrassment. He cleared his throat haltingly.
“LosientoDiostengapiedad” the words flew across his tongue fluidly as he rolled his eyes with chagrin. “I don’t….” he cleared his throat again for good measure, “I don’t generally associate with women who are in a…family way. Or want to be” his face contorted self-deprecatingly. “Maybe I just…didn’t ask….” his face gained a dull, graying quality. He looked like he was going to be sick.
You smirked knowingly. Okay, Playboy. Maybe you COULD teach this hot pendejo a thing or two. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a cigarette packet before offering you one.
“Oh, I’m sorry you can’t smoke in here…” you apologized, watching his eyes widen to saucer like imploring orbs of incredulity. Licking his lips dryly and eventually tucking the cigarette deftly behind his ear he gestured. “Dame mas…” he rasped, lowering his eyes to the ground and swallowing thickly.
“I know, it’s hard to believe such a thing actually occurred, but let me try to synopsize….
When Belen arrived at the hospital she was already mid-miscarriage. She went to the bathroom, and amidst pain meds and confusion, unbeknownst to her, expelled the fetus. Belen wakes up in the communal labor room surrounded by police and with forensic pathologists examining her vagina, and learns she was 15 weeks pregnant. She had two lawyers neither of which visited her, and was eventually held in reprimand for first degree murder. No one raised the issue of doctor-patient confidentiality. Her new lawyer does not have access to her legal docket before asking for a mistrial amidst Belen’s protestations to remain anonymous”.
“But people should know!” Pena nearly yelled full voice, gripping his knees placatingly and looking into your eyes. “I didn’t join law force to fuck around!” his cheeks reddened immediately under your scrutinizing gaze. “Well….not JUST to fuck around…” he whimpered, throwing his hands up in the air.
“Listening to her experience, it’s easy to see why she was reticent about sharing her personal story. It was nearly three years before she finally received the acknowledgement she deserved, and it wasn’t for lack of trying. She spoke with multiple people proclaiming her innocence. Look, the author recounts,
‘The following day she tries her best to get some sleep. She asks for a sleeping pill and prays it’s all a nightmare. When she wakes up, a priest is staring at her with a frighteningly serious expression and a Bible in his hand. What you’ve done is incredibly serious. God’s law cannot be broken. You murdered your son. God will punish you. You must repent” she recalls him saying. Belen tells him she didn’t do it, she’s innocent. For days, weeks, months, she will say the same thing. The priest is asked to vacate the room; the patient is under medical orders to rest. It’s a lie. The hospital no longer cares what happens to Belen. They just want her to leave as soon as possible. The priest continues his rounds”.
“Bastardo” Pena mutters before reacting to your intake of air. “Sorry” his hands drifted upwards as though cornered by his own law enforcement officers. “Would you believe—lapsing Catholic?” his impish smile disarmed you must faster than you anticipated, as you chuckled under your breath. Shifting your footing you winced slightly as a pang of cramps ricocheted through your body, nearly doubling over. “Are you okay, hermosa?” Pena stood to his feet, touching your elbow slightly with concern. Your skin crackled under his heated touch, as you locked eyes.
“Oh…yeah…I just…been on my feet, all day, probably have a headache or something” you deflected, though you thought you caught a knowing purse of his lips in acknowledgement. You must be imagining things again. Pena checked his watch.
“It’s nearly noon, I’ve been commandeering all your time” he lamented, looking around the bookstore appraisingly. “Can you…take your lunch?” he shrugged mischievously, gesturing to the small counter behind him that doubled as a refreshment bar. You sighed with relief, recognizing the prudence of his observations. God you could use a break. Your mouth curled with chagrin as you began to remove your apron. “Wait right here” you instructed, rolling your eyes with faux indignation. Can’t argue with the long arm of the law, you internally jested, flipping the “OPEN” sign in the doorway and motioning him to the counter. You grabbed two pre-packaged sandwiches as Pena reached over the counter for two bottles of Jarritos before tossing a ten before him.
“Keep the change” he smirked, pulling out a chair for you and joining for your impromptu picnic. You placed the book on the table and began to unwrap the sandwiches, rolling your eyes.
“My hero” you winked, as his face began to beam with unadulterated pride. “Alright Pena, fess up. How much did you know about Belen before meeting me today?” you questioned, taking a quick bite of your sandwich and humming in approval.
“Guilty as charged” Pena agreed, now twiddling the cigarette between his fingers, as though toying with his actual hunger. “I saw her name in the papers and always wondered. I mean, it was obvious there was a story that needed to be told. But what province was she sentenced in? What happened to her supporters? How did she go from a murder conviction to a final acquittal? Where is Belen?” the questions rattled off of Pena’s tongue as he watched you closely. You had definitely ensnared his attention.
“Are you interrogating me, Officer Pena?” you smiled between bites, happy to see his veneer crumple with tinged embarrassment. “I think it’s important to note that this isn’t just Belen’s story. You should check out the documentary. It shows a part of the story a lot of people are in denial about; the fact that illegal abortions primarily affect women who are poor. In the movie, Belen is in shadow and her face isn’t viable per her request. All we get is her voice, which takes the form of a desperate cry. Most of the women interviewed in the documentary which delves into the underworld of clandestine abortions, appear again at the end of the film when they say with a smile; let it be law. But Belen doesn’t. her silhouette in the dark, her voice, her pain, and her story are all she agreed to share. And it’s plenty. But the bright side of her is missing. She’s more than her experiences, more than that cry”.
Pena nodded solemnly, finally taking a bite of his sandwich and sighing heavily. It was a lot to take in and easy to feel a fraction of the helplessness Belen must have experienced during her incarcerated time. You opened the book and proceeded,
“It’s Belen’s first day at the Special Investigations Unit, and she would rather not talk to anyone. But another detainee approaches her and asks what she’s in for. Belen says she’s been charged with inducing an abortion. The woman bursts out laughing and says that can’t be right. “If it was, then I’d be facing life, I’ve had three” she reassures her. Belen wants to explain that she didn’t induce anything, but the woman insists that even if that were the case, no one gets sent to prison for an abortion. It’s odd, but after a while Belen starts to feel safer in prison than she did at the Special Investigations Unit. Then again, there’s the shame. She doesn’t want anyone asking her why she is there. She has no interest in talking about happened. All she wants is to go home and wake up from this nightmare”.
“I don’t blame her” Pena muttered, wiping his mouth broadly and taking a quick drink. “Law enforcement is supposed to prevent situations like this, not make them worse” he sneered. “I’m surprised they didn’t release her…”.
“Oh, they tried”.
Pena nearly spit out his next sip of soda, sputtering slightly in surprise. “What do you mean?” he coughed, grabbing a nearby napkin.
“Apparently it was clear to most of the correctional facility that Belen was being treated unjustly. One day, the guards endeavored to just…let her accidentally escape. Here, I highlighted this part,
‘Belen is on the sidewalk outside the correctional facility. She is un-handcuffed and unsupervised. The prison guards watch her from inside the prison and wonder if they will ever see her again. They can always make something up. They’re not worried. But Belen leaves the trash bags on the corner and walks back. She asks the guard to open the gate, then asks to be let back into the prison. The guards laugh, "You weren’t up to it. You looked like a cat that can’t be bothered to go outside” “I’ll go out when they prove my innocence. You’ll see.” Belen replies. She goes back to her book—How long can people live without air? How long? What is the measure of suffocation? And falls asleep”.
“No shit” Pena whispered, nodding in solidarity. “Speaks to her innocence” he curtly states, downing the rest of his soda in one gulp.
You nodded in agreement. “She and her lawyer, Soledad, never lost faith, but it wasn’t always easy. Corea recounts Belen’s words,
‘No matter what happened to me, I never lost strength. I kept telling myself; I will not fall, I will keep going, because what they’re doing to me is unjust. Except for one time. There was a single time in my life when I thought I’d never recover, that I was falling and wouldn’t be able to get back on my feet. It was when I left the courthouse and my mom stayed behind. I didn’t think I’d get through it. It was hard, but here I am”.
“But where is here?” Pena opened his palms reflexively. “How did she escape? How did she prove her innocence? There must have been clues…” he propositioned, leaning forward in his chair, crumbs scattering the table before him.
“Oh get this!” you exclaimed, rifling through the book as quickly as possible. “A social media post that Soledad noticed, ‘She felt a mix of relief and anger when she saw the last thing Belen had posted, five days before her hospital visit; a picture of her looking happy; with no belly. No one had bothered to notice that small detail before convicting her”.
“Jesus” Pena had started answering with one word responses, such was the force of his disbelief.
You continued,
“The way most of the media addresses this problem has to change. Too often, victims are blamed for their fates; they clothes, their friends, how they have fun. Deep down, the press fans the idea that “They brought it on themselves” . We need a news media that is committed to creating new protocols while adhering existing protocols and codes of ethics when covering cases like these. Television reproduces words and images that put women in situations of danger, inequality and dominance. It reproduces stereotypes. When women and girls who fall victim to violence are covered by the media, their private lives are trespassed”.
“The media is total shit” he spat. “Can’t trust ‘em for a goddam thing, unless it’s ratting out a source”.
“Tell me what you really think, Pena” you quipped, finishing your own soda and leaning back in your chair before gripping your abdomen tightly. Squinting your eyes shut, Javier reached across the table grabbing your hand tightly.
“I think that’s a little more than a headache” he softly intoned, squeezing your hand and beginning to clean up. “Why don’t you finish your lunch break and I’ll grab a smoke. I don’t want to leave Belen hanging for too long…” he begrudged, heading for the door and turning the door sign right side up. What an interesting customer, you reckoned, scouring your purse for that long awaited Advil and heading to the backroom. You decided to put together a display featuring some of the other books mentioned like “Jacque a Le Reina”, “Open the Door” by Ana Guillot, and “Bad Mothers, Abortion and Infanticide” by Julieta Di Corleto”. Belen may have achieved her freedom at a high cost, but there were still many women suffering under the injustices of an obsolete governmental system. You exhaled a steady sigh of exhaustion, heaving a new stack of books to the foyer and catching sight of your new, fast friend. His broad posture was pacing back and forth concernedly, a myriad of smoke mystically curling about him. As though hearing your unspoken thoughts, he turned abruptly to catch your stare, dropping the cigarette and stamping it into submission, flinging the door open decisively.
“Hot as hell out there, hermosa” he huffed, coughing slightly and rushing to help you with the stack of books. “So perhaps you can now tell me, what DID happen to Belen?”…
Part Two...
"What Happened to Belen?"
Thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! Pedge and I have had a few ups and downs over here, but are managing okay! A couple WIP's, currently re-reading the Women's Rights book, "What Happened to Belen?" as recommended by Papi Pascal. Pedge's Bookshop has decided to tackle the important literature with Javier Pena at our side. Seems like he has plenty to say about it...
“Maybe…” you whispered, his face softening ever so slightly in response. The shift was incremental, but noted nonetheless. “You can’t always judge a book by its cover”, the words fell out of your mouth sloppily, but with sincerity nonetheless. He stood up slightly taller, considering your words and looking at the magazine centerfold once again. “Too true, hermosa, too true” he seemed to acquiesce. closing the magazine definitively and looking at you with a new appraisal. “What are YOU reading?” he pointedly asked, allowing his eyes to meander over the totality of your body, as though still looking at the magazine contents. You shifted with an annoying arousal that you couldn’t quite shake, noticing the buttons of his shirt dangling precariously open revealing a sun-kissed, tanned torso. Stupid PMS. “Uh…” your brain stalled like a sputtering car as he smiled sweetly at your unravelling manner. “Pena” he held his hand out, wiping it deftly across the backside of his jeans and extending it forwards into your halting grasp. “Javier Pena” he matter-a-factly stated, his Adam’s apple bobbing strongly in his throat as a small trickle of sweat cascaded down his sternum. Holy hell. It must be hotter in here than you realized.
Pedge's Bookshop Series Masterlist
Foyer: There are already so many great AU fics featuring all our favorite Pedro Boys and I'd like to showcase them! In the Coffee Shop Foyer you'll find some great rec's for coffee and books alike. Bring your library card--this if one of my favorite tropes!
Bookshop: We started this series with Joel as our bookshop owner. Reading several of Pedro Pascal's book recommendations, the bookshop continues to get more material; join in on the fun!
Crime and Punishment (with Joel Miller)
Crime and Punishment; Prologue Crime and Punishment; The Murder Crime and Punishment; The Family Crime and Punishment; The Argument Crime and Punishment; The Lecture Crime and Punishment; The Visitor Crime and Punishment; The Dinner Crime and Punishment; The Calm Crime and Punishments; Before Crime and Punishment; The Storm Crime and Punishment; The Patrol Crime and Punishment; The Wound Crime and Punishment; The Confession Crime and Punishment; The Epilogue
Novellas:
Crime and Punishment Fic-Let Crime and Punishment; The Dream Crime and Punishment; The Talk Bookstore IG
What Happened to Belen? (with Javier Pena)
Part One Part Two
In Cold Blood (with Tim Rockford)
In Cold Blood: The Exposition In Cold Blood; The Road Trip In Cold Blood; The Funeral
WIP Book Nook: There are so many amazing rec's from Pedro that I'd love to unpack! Here are some possibilities on the horizon. What fics do you want to see?
The Urge; Our History of Addiction w/ Dieter Bravo Franny and Zooey w/ Mr. Ben The Gender of Sound w/ Pedge Drive Your Plow...w/ Tim Rockford
Audible Original; The Reservoir
Ghost Radio
