Chapter 2 - Please stop!

Joana

Suddenly, everything around me took on distorted shapes when I opened my eyes. I knew I wasn't alone, I could hear the whisper of a hoarse voice calling the name of someone who was in the same room as me. When I regained consciousness, I experienced a series of unfamiliar emotions and sensations that were difficult to understand.

The world around me, once familiar, was surprisingly altered, resembling a vivid, surreal dream. My restless gaze tried to discern what reality was in that unknown place. Had I died or not?

The intensity of the sensations took hold of me, speeding up my heart and leaving me disoriented while my lungs tried to readjust my uncontrolled breathing, it was as if I had woken up from a nightmare.

In that moment of disorientation, my mind turned into a cauldron of questions and uncertainties, searching for answers to the myriad of issues that plagued my sanity. However, instead of succumbing to fear or despair, I decided to face whatever it was.

I tried to get out of that soft bed, but my body wouldn't respond. It was as if something was holding me in that position. I pulled back the red blanket and, to my surprise, there was a man with a thick beard standing looking at me from the other side of the bed. "What the hell is going on? Who are you?" My effort to push him away with my arms was useless, I felt that perverse gaze devouring me, the bastard was determined to fuck me, but what the shit was that, who was he, and why was he horny in the same room as me? "Have you forgotten your promise?" "Please stop!" I started hitting him with my clenched hands. "Help me! Somebody help me!" "Stop this scandal, woman! You're acting strangely, what's wrong with you, Isabela?" That man who was old enough to be my father approached me and shushed me, putting his hands over my mouth, but why did he call me Isabela? That was strange, very strange.

"What? What did you call me?"

Finally he got off me. The man was naked and with his supposed erection pointing in my direction, because I could barely make out a penis in all that hair, God forbid.

"What happened to you? Have you forgotten me, my dear?"

He stared at me with that stupid grin on his face. But it was true, I didn't remember that wretch's face, let alone his hoarse voice that carried across the room in the candlelight.

"Sorry, I'm a bit confused today." That's all I managed to say. "And how long are you going to keep that horrible thing in front of me?"

He pointed his fingers at me, asking me to remain silent, and went over to a rustic desk by the window. The man pulled back the burgundy curtain and lifted a bottle that I didn't know what it was.

"I knew you shouldn't have drunk so much, you're drunk, Isabela."

"Stop calling me that name, I'm Joana."

After checking the bottle, he left it in the same place and laughed, which left me unable to understand why he thought it was funny. He hurried his steps and approached me.

"I told you not to drink so much, look how pitiful you are, you can't even remember your own name." He was so close that I could smell the alcohol.

"Where am I?"

My question wiped that annoying smile off his face.

"We're at my place, but you're already on your way out, so I don't think we'll be sleeping together for the first time tonight. Wait a moment, my servant will take you home."

"Servant? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I had no idea that drink could even change your manners, what kind of language is that?"

"Screw you!"

"How outrageous! Your father urgently needs to review his recent manners."

He turned away from me and started putting on those strange clothes.

"I don't need that servant you said, I know the way home."

He turned and fixed his attention on me.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just a bit confused, but I remember the way home. I just need to know where I am."

"We're in Madrid."

"Gee, I'm a long way from Almeria. How did I end up here? Did you save me from the accident?"

"I don't know what you're talking about and I don't think I'll ever get used to this new Isabela." He took a deep breath and thank God I saw him dressed, without that little erection pointing at me. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, I hope you're better."

What do you mean, he's proposing that I continue with this nightmare?

"There's no chance of you seeing me again, thank you for rescuing me."

I tried to get up, but I couldn't get out of bed.

"What is it, Isabela?"

"Why did you tie me to the bed?"

He forced a confused smile and devoured me with that horrible look.

"Why don't you get up and leave?"

"Because you tied me up here."

He approached me again, pulled back the blanket and pointed at my still naked legs.

"Because three months ago you lost the movement in your legs and I'm looking after you."

"What? What do you mean I lost movement in my legs?" He shook his head negatively as a black woman entered the room, after he had fiddled with a small bell.

"She'll help you get dressed and then take you in your wheelchair to the carriage, have a good night, Isabela, I hope you recover soon."

The man took a white wig and put it on her head. Without saying another word, he turned and left the room. Meanwhile, the woman approached cautiously.

"Madam, your carriage is ready, Carlos will take you safely home."

My heart broke when I saw that she had brought what would have been a wheelchair, and my face became wet with tears. I felt such an intense headache that I thought I would die right there, but maybe it was better to die. After all, what would be different from hell? Well, paradise certainly wasn't. Without looking directly at me, the woman turned around and brought me my clothes.

"Wait a minute, don't touch me." I cursed, pulling the blanket back over me.

"Forgive me, ma'am, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me, just don't touch me. I can't believe it, what do you mean I can't walk? Did I lose my movement after the accident?"

"I'll help you, ma'am."

"Stop calling me that, I'm not your ma'am, you must be the same age as me to call me ma'am."

The woman remained silent, contradicting what her eyes were saying, it was as if she was waiting for my orders.

"Forgive me."

"Stop grumbling and asking for forgiveness, help me out of this bed." I gasped and finally felt the grip of her hands on my thighs. "Is that a wheelchair? What the hell is that?"

"That wheelchair was a present from the Marquis."

"Marquis? Seriously, all you have to do is tell me I've traveled back in time."

"I don't understand what ma'am are saying, but you'll feel fine soon."

"Wait, where are we?" She helped me sit the archaic wheelchair. "What year is it?"

"In 1699." She answered without delay.

"But what do you mean? My God, I'm in the 16th century?"

"Forgive me for saying so, but I can't help myself. You look very different from the other days. I confess that seeing you cry is also something new for me. Ever since I met you, you've always been strict with me."

I sighed deeply, trying to take in all that information. There were so many words that I only remembered reading in history books, and what was strange became even stranger. What do you mean I was in bed with a marquis? Was I physically handicapped? Was I a strict woman? I would never be rude like that, everyone who knows me knows I'm a sweetheart. And to make matters worse, that black woman, apparently behaving as if she were a slave, was treating me as if I were more important than her, I don't accept that, we're all equal.

"Can you give me a mirror? Tell me there is such a thing, please?"

She smiled, I don't know what reason she had for mocking me. But within a few seconds, I saw my reflection in the small, round mirror. My hands shook at what I saw, how was that possible? They really were right, Joana Ortiz didn't exist back then.

In my reflection, I saw a beautiful young-looking woman with short blonde hair that emphasized my expressiveness. My blue eyes were bright and conveyed my feelings with intensity. My fair skin complemented my charming appearance; never could such a beautiful woman be me.

"You're very beautiful and intelligent, Miss Bourbon."

"I've heard enough nonsense for one day, I can only be crazy or stuck in limbo, take me away from this place."

Slowly, she led me in silence through the marquis' immense house, luxury predominating in every corridor and room I passed, it must have been a mansion, to say the least. Finally, the woman said goodbye and left me beside the carriage. Carlos was also black and helped me up, but the idea that slavery still existed disgusted me.

I heard the man's voice ordering the two horses to pull the carriage. As my eyes admired all the details of the buildings around me, it was as if I was in a virtual reality of antiquity, my mind creating a thousand theories about what might be happening.

~

All I wanted was to wake up in my bed and smell myself on the pillow. To go into the kitchen and see my mother wishing me the best good morning ever. I gasped, fearing the worst, that I wouldn't see her again. I thought everything I saw and heard was just a dream, but it turns out I was wrong. I really did die in the plane crash and somehow took possession of that beautiful woman's body. Nothing had changed, the old Joana was still Isabela, the daughter of a man with a lot of influence in the Spanish empire, and I was a young woman from the Spanish Bourbon house.

"Did you sleep well last night?" He asked me without taking his eyes off me.

"Yes." I replied to the man sitting at the right end of the table, not sure if I was being rude.

A little girl who couldn't have been more than six years old started running around the dining room, which made the woman next to me protest at the mess.

"Didn't I say it was forbidden to run around during meals? Behave yourself, child."

The scene at the table was confusing, at the same time as I knew they were my parents, I didn't know them either.

"Let's eat before it gets cold, Rosa." I mustered up the courage to say it out loud.

The child looked at me, her name really was Rosa. She stopped running and sat down at the table, where she remained perfectly behaved.

"What miracle was that?" my mother added, I mean, my possible mother. "My beautiful eldest daughter raising the youngest in our family?"

"What? What do you mean?" My questions were endless.

"That's the first time you've corrected your sister, well done."

She smiled, her personality was clear as day, it was evident that she was refined. But the beauty and elegance that my eyes saw in her was nothing new, I've studied the past all my life and I knew that the women of previous centuries loved extravagance in the way they dressed.

"And how are you feeling today?" my father asked, drawing my attention. I had never imagined having a father present and, deep down, I recognized that he had always been an exceptional man, after all, in a magical way, I remembered our good times, even though I hadn't lived them.

"I can't feel my legs, but I'm alive."

"You'll recover and soon you'll be back to your routine."

I stopped for a moment and just watched them. So this was the curse my mother had told me about? I died without leaving anything behind and I'm starting again at a different time, blessed with a good, wealthy family, so I don't have to worry about anything other than getting out of the wheelchair.

I didn't understand anything that was happening, but a desire to look for answers in everything bubbled up inside me. If I really had another chance to live, I had to make it count and leave my legacy, even if it was in the past. There was no way I was going to die again without fulfilling my dream.

Suddenly, I heard the high-pitched sound of a voice coming from across the room, calling my name:

"Lady Isabela, I'm sorry to disturb you, but your fiancé, the lord and marquis Jaime of Orleans, is waiting for you in the carriage in front of the door."

Hearing that name reminded me of that older man, I had some feelings for him, but they weren't my true feelings, I couldn't go on with this, it was Isabela who loved him, not me.

"He's my fiancé... he had to be."

"What do you mean?" My father asked with his analytical gaze, raising his eyebrow and wrinkling his forehead.

"It's nothing, Dad, I need to go and see my fiancé, excuse me."

I tried to be as cordial as possible and asked them to guide me out. What kind of archaic wheelchair was that? The structure had a lot of room for improvement, but I shouldn't judge, after all, I was stuck in a time when technology had been limited for over three hundred years.

During my nightly reveries, I meditated on how to take advantage of the situation, if I remembered the information from the future, it could help me leave my legacy. Finally, the strong man left me beside the carriage and, at my request, drove off.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Much better, my fiancé, I needed to rest."

"Good, you've even remembered that I'm your fiancé." He approached me and I could see the clothes he was wearing, the detail of each piece was incredible. "Shall we go for a walk in the garden?"

What a stupid question, if he doesn't remember, I was in a wheelchair, how could I walk around the garden? Looking closely at that gentleman, I'd say he was in his fifties, never in my life would I have been interested in someone like him. But what was wrong with Isabela that she was attracted to him?

"Of course, Mr. Jaime." I replied, unwillingly. "Can you help me? This chair isn't very supportive."

"This chair was developed by my friend, Baron Afonso, he makes the best chairs."

I had to agree with everything I heard, how terrible it was to live as a woman in those days. Jaime moved away and began to guide me while talking about stupid things. Little did he know that the future of Spain was great, and I had all the information; starting with the fact that the African slavery he venerates so much no longer existed.

I know that in the 17th century marriages were arranged between families and that women didn't have the right to choose, but there's no way I'd accept that, even knowing that it could have consequences. If my father is really a fair man, he will support me no matter what I decide.

"I want to break off the engagement."