The Inmate Who Said He Was a Millionaire Chose Me

In the ward of Las Acacias clinic, that place that smelled of cheap disinfectant and lives put on hold, Damián was confined there, a fifty-eight-year-old man whom the doctors had classified as suffering from a delusion of grandeur. He claimed to be the owner of invisible empires, king of a world only he could see. To the psychiatrists, he was a sad guy who had lost his way after a nervous breakdown. Tall, with tousled gray hair and eyes that burned like coals, he had a charisma that got under your skin.

Carla was the nurse on duty. Thirty-nine years old, divorced for two years from a man who had left her with debts and a half-empty apartment. Dark-skinned, with curves the white uniform could barely conceal, she was sick of the routine: injections, pills, patients who barely looked at her. Until one afternoon Damián stopped her with his deep voice.

—You’re the queen my kingdom needs —he told her, never taking his eyes off her—. Let me show you what I’m capable of.

At first Carla laughed, convinced it was just another one of his delusions. But he kept insisting, telling her stories of imaginary fortunes, and in his gaze there was something that was not entirely a lie. A raw lust that turned her on without even touching her.

***

One night, during the rounds, he grabbed her by the arm in the dim hallway.

—Come with me, my queen.

She let herself be dragged to the storage room at the back, that forgotten room of old sheets and rusty stretchers where no one ever went. Damián pressed her against the cold wall, lifted her uniform skirt, and slid his hand under her underwear.

—Look at you —he murmured in her ear, while his fingers moved over her slowly—. You barely need me to touch you.

Carla stifled a moan.

—Come on, don’t stop.

He pulled down his pajama pants, turned her against the wall, and entered her in one thrust. He drove into her with restrained fury, one hand holding her hip, the other searching for her breasts beneath the blouse. She muffled her sounds against her own arm, her legs trembling, her whole body surrendering to something she had not planned.

—Feel it all —he told her, never easing up.

Carla came first, biting her lips so she wouldn’t scream. He followed seconds later, holding her up so her knees wouldn’t give out. When he pulled out, she knew she was already hooked.

***

From that night on, the back room became their secret corner. Every day they found an excuse, a gap between the medication rounds and the checks. Damián seduced her with his grandiose words and took her as if he really were an emperor claiming what was his.

On Monday morning, Carla came in with the tray of medicine, her uniform clinging to her body in the January heat. He was waiting for her sitting on the cot. As soon as the door closed, he grabbed her by the waist.

—I missed you since last night —he growled, moving her underwear aside.

—Fast, I’ve got rounds in ten minutes —she answered, already out of breath.

There was no more preamble. He pressed her against the wall and fucked her deep, one hand barely covering her mouth to muffle the sounds. Within minutes they were both shaking. He came out slowly, looking at her with a triumphant smile.

—Remember all day who’s in charge here.

***

On Tuesday, during the siesta, when the ward fell silent, Carla came back with the excuse of changing his sheets. Damián sat her on the cot and began undoing the buttons of her uniform one by one, unhurried.

—Today I’ve got time —he said.

He kissed her neck, moved down over her chest, tracing every inch with a calm that drove her even crazier than haste. When he finally buried his head between her legs, she grabbed his gray hair with both hands.

—Don’t stop, please.

Carla came undone like that, against his mouth, stifling her cry against the back of her hand. Afterward it was she who knelt him in her imagination and took him in, letting herself go again, until both of them were left drained on the narrow cot.

***

Wednesday was her night shift. She was alone in the ward. Damián was awake waiting for her, and when she went in to check on him, he pulled the latch and locked the door.

—Today I want something different —he told her, in that voice that was already making her wet before he finished the sentence.

She hesitated for a second. Desire won out. She prepared herself calmly, let him open her slowly, patiently, until her body gave in. He took her from behind, holding her by the hips, first gently and then with real hunger.

—Relax —he kept repeating—, slowly.

Carla stroked herself while he moved, and they finished almost at the same time, panting on the cot, hearts hammering against their ribs. The risk that someone might hear them made them even greedier. Unlatched doors, moans that could slip into the hallway: nothing stopped them.

***

On Thursday Damián convinced a guard with some bills Carla handed over, and they were left alone in the back showers. Hot water filled everything with steam. She knelt before him on the wet tiles and took him in her mouth, looking into his eyes. Then he lifted her, pressed her against the cold tiles, and took her standing, with one of her legs raised high. Water ran over them, their sounds blending with the noise of the spray.

—One day I’m getting you out of here —he told her between thrusts—. And I’ll treat you the way you deserve.

Carla laughed and moaned at the same time, not fully believing him, not wanting to stop believing him.

***

Friday evening was different. Slower, almost like a goodbye to the week. Damián undressed her carefully, kissed every part of her body, licked his way across her until she begged him to enter her. He moved inside her looking her in the eyes, deep and steady.

—You’re the only real thing in this place —he told her.

She dug her nails into his back.

—And you’re the only real thing in mine.

They finished wrapped in each other, drenched in sweat, as if the world outside had stopped existing.

***

The days repeated with variations: sometimes fast and rough against the door, sometimes long and filthy on the floor of the storage room. Always with that urgency of caged animals. Carla went back to her post with her body on fire and a smile she couldn’t erase. Damián fell asleep satisfied, dreaming of the day he would get out and have her in a real bed.

But luck ran out. One afternoon, the clinic director walked into the room by chance and found them in the middle of the act. The scandal was immediate.

—What is this? —the man shouted—. This is a hospital, not a cabaret.

Carla was fired on the spot. Damián laughed in the director’s face.

—You don’t know who you’re messing with —he told him, before they sedated him and took him back to his bed.

***

Carla, furious and unemployed, did not sit still. She fought like a lioness. She called lawyers, gathered paperwork, demanded a medical board to reevaluate him.

—This man is not crazy —she repeated at every hearing—. His ideas aren’t dangerous to anyone.

It was months of back and forth, experts, reports. Damián sent her messages through a bribed orderly: “Hang on, my queen, I’ll be out soon.” In the end, the board sided with him: he was discharged under supervision, with monthly checkups. They released him into the street with a backpack and that same old smile.

On the sidewalk outside the clinic, Carla was waiting anxiously. She kissed him. But then she confessed what was weighing on her.

—Now I’ve got a problem, Damián. Since they fired me I’m practically on the street. Without a job, the rent is eating me alive, I’m living on handouts.

He burst out laughing and hugged her.

—That’s no problem at all. You want to know why they locked me up? My own family wanted to declare me insane. If a judge signed off on my incapacity, they could take control of everything I owned and do whatever they wanted with my fortune. That lawsuit still hasn’t been decided. And thanks to you, the board’s ruling is going to bring it crashing down.

Carla stared at him, not understanding.

—It’s all real, Carla. I own a huge real estate company. I’ve got properties, buildings, developments all over the country. What seemed like a delusion was true. Come with me, my queen, and I’ll give you the life I promised you.

She stood there with her mouth open. He kissed her hard, right there in the street, his hand sliding under her skirt.

—Let’s go home. I’ll show you my real kingdom.

And so, from a forbidden affair in hospital corridors, they moved on to a life Carla had never imagined. Apartments with a view of the city, terraces, nights with no schedules and no rules. Damián kept seeking her out with the same mad king’s fury, and she answered with the same surrender as on the first day. The nightmare was over. Something else was beginning, something she still struggles to believe is real even today.