Novels by Flow

July 10, Dulsie's ninth birthday. It was mid-afternoon on a Saturday. The gentle breeze swept across the garden as Lucia rushed about to set up the little umbrella shades for the party. Candela had arrived at the early hours of the morning alongside her husband and kids to help her sister set up things for her daughter's birthday party. The kids had run along to go play hide and seek inside the house. Candela's daughter, who, because she had already turned nine, liked to say she was a year older than Dulsie, even though they were really only four months apart. Lucia's husband, Elvio, had stepped out to go get Dulsie's cake and some groceries from the mall. Candela's husband, Esteban attended to the barbecue stand. The meats were only halfway cooked but they still gave out an appetizing smell.In the shades of the backyard, there was the sweet odor of lime and sticky charred sauce and at intervals, the kids would run by to get some chunks of meat and afterwards, return to their play."

It was a Friday night and as always, Euphoria Discotheque was on their usual routine. Valentina stuck her head out from behind the curtains, scouting around for nothing in particular but her attention was drawn to the young man who sat across the room. She must have seen him before but it was quite difficult for her to conclude since he had his back turned at her. But anyways, she had seen more than a dozen men visit Euphoria Discotheque five days in a week, so it wasn't so much of a big deal. She calmly retreated as she felt a surge of anxiety building up within. The voices around her were slowly drowning out and they only filtered into her ears once in a while as muffled sounds. She reached for the little vial sitting on the counter, flipped the cover open and threw the pills into her mouth. She inhaled deeply and made for the dressing mirror. She stood there in her amazonian figure which sat well on her wafer-thin body. She had a decanter shaped waist and her complexion had an impe

Marcus entered the dimly lit room with slow, uncertain steps, both hands gripping the handles of a small, weathered nylon bag. The place reeked faintly of sandalwood incense and something metallic—perhaps blood or rust—lingering under the surface. He stood near the center, unsure whether to set the parcel down or wait for someone to claim it. He was still wrestling with indecision when a soft shuffle of feet broke the silence behind him. He turned instinctively—too quickly—and nearly collided with her. Josefina. She stood inches from him, her breath warm and steady, caressing the nape of his neck. She had a presence like cold silk—elegant and unnerving. He hadn’t heard her enter. "I—I'm sorry. I was sent to deliver this," Marcus stammered, placing the bag on the edge of the bed as though it might explode. He made to leave but froze when her voice cut through the tension. “I said... what’s in there?” Josefina repeated, more deliberately now, her eyes sharp with curiosity. Marcus me

“Hola. I’m Christanté.” Valentina turned sharply, startled by the voice behind her. A small boy stood barely a foot away. His smile was wide, too practiced for someone his age. His teeth were stained, his clothes worn thin, but he radiated an odd kind of energy. Hopeful, maybe. Or just desperate to be seen. He couldn’t have been more than ten. Valentina crouched down and gently ran her hand over his unkempt hair. The boy chuckled, but the sound didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m Valentina,” she said softly. “What are you doing here, cariño? This… this isn’t a place for a child.” Christanté shrugged. “I work here,” he replied, his smile still fixed in place, almost like it had been stitched to his face. Valentina's stomach clenched. “Work? What kind of work?” He hesitated. The smile faltered. His eyes dropped to the floor like something in him collapsed. “I clean the bar. Serve drinks. And sometimes…” He trailed off, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Silence stretched. The

"Querido, I’m heading out now. I’ll call once the interview’s done," Valentina said, tightening the cap over her dark curls. Her little backpack clinked faintly from the metal zipper tags as she slung it onto her shoulder. She stepped into the parlor where Jorge sat on the worn-out sofa, cradling their two little girls. Jorge rose immediately. The moment he saw her, a gentle pride lit his tired eyes. Despite everything, she still found a way to shine. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "If anything feels off, call me. Right away. No second-guessing." Valentina let out a soft laugh, trying to mask the ache in her chest. Her family was everything—her anchor in a storm. She broke away from his arms and scooped her daughters up for a final squeeze before heading out the door. She didn’t know this would be the last time she’d see her family as the woman she was. Valentina had always been resourceful—twenty-six, full of grit, already trying to stitch togethe

5:30 AM – Cuernavaca, Raúl's Compound The hallway was dead quiet, the kind of silence that only came after too many screams. The girl’s heels scraped the concrete with every step as El Toro dragged her by the hair like a sack of trash. Her nightgown clung to her body—drenched in sweat, dirt, and humiliation. Bruises marbled her legs, fresh and old ones layered like tattoos from the life she’d never chosen. Raúl lit a cigar with a gold-plated lighter and watched them enter like it was just another morning. He leaned back in his chair, behind a steel desk littered with black tar heroin, rolled-up bills, and a 9mm Beretta he kept polished like a trophy. “Elena,” he said coolly. “You know what this is.” She didn’t reply. She didn’t beg either. She’d already spent that energy trying to gouge a client’s eye out with a fork the night before. No one cared why. Raúl had to respond. “El Toro, bring me the gringo.” Barracks, same time The metal door flew open and banged against the wall.