Isabel Refugee Novels & Stories

"No,not rea..." "Deeply Isabelle,think deeply" Bodgan said hoarsely, Isabelle scratch her head with her sharp finger. "Have you heard of that name before Isabelle?" "Yes,from Sasha,I remember it was from her,but I don't remember how it happened or the thing that made her say that but I do remember she was scared...maybe just my imagination, who's she?" "A prostitute,she was the prestigious...and most sought out prostitute from DYB, Grandfather cartel"

This was due to her having mixed blood, that of a Filipina and an American. This set her apart from the rest of the girls in this small town of Kabatuan. The smile that was ever present whenever he looked at her was no more. And what replaced it was a casual nod before he went inside to buy from the canteen. ___________________ "Hi." a text came through the cellphone of Juan Pedro. "Hello, Isabella. How are you?" was the friendly reply he sent back. "Are you going to stay here for college?" Isabella texted after five minutes of thinking about a topic, just to have something for them to talk about. She tried to deny it but she misses the company of Juan Pedro.

"That's all in the past. From now on, let's just be strangers. The last time we'll see each other is a month later." … I never imagined that a month later, Elias would show up in a wheelchair. He was shockingly thin, his skin sallow, looking more like a homeless man than the person I once knew. After I left, he had gone out drinking every night, and in that state, he gave Isabel her chance for revenge. Fired from her job, Isabel lost her livelihood and was burdened with a massive compensation payment. Her family discovered her situation during Christmas and, overcome with fear, threw her out.

"This is the exact thing we bled through Budapest to secure. A generation of children who will never have to see the inside of a safehouse, learn how to use a fake passport, or know the shape of systemic violence. Children who can simply exist in the light without an alias." Isabella, the elder, was resting in her high-backed rocking chair in the deep shade of the cottonwood trees near the edge of the grass, her eyes peaceful as she monitored the games. She was visibly fading now, her physical frame appearing slighter with each passing week as the illness continued its predictable, unyielding advance through her system. Yet she flatly refused to look away from the lawn or go inside, keeping

"I didn't die in that car, Mateo. I died the night I found my Elena died because of you couldn't wait to fuck my aunt. The woman who climbed out of that wreckage... she was someone else. She was a woman who would rather burn the world down than spend one more night in your bed." She turned to Elara, who was watching her mother with wide, proud eyes. "And now.” Isabella said, her voice softening. "He wants to do it again. He wants to lock me up. He threatens to send my daughter away because he wants me to tell the world that he is the hero." She looked back at the camera. "My name is Isabella." She said. "I am not a victim. I am not a hostage. And I am done hiding." Then, she looked straight

The timeline for the trial which was looking like eight to ten months from now. I asked my question at the end. “Isabella,” I said. “Any news.” He set his pen down. Looked at me. “The last confirmed sighting,” he said carefully, “was in Ibiza. She was briefly detained by immigration officers there following an Interpol alert.” I went very still. “Ibiza,” I said. “Yes. Approximately ten days ago.” Ten days ago I was in Ibiza. He kept talking. “She was processed and released on a technicality before the full warrant could be executed. The passport she was using had not yet been flagged in that database. By the time Interpol updated the system she had already cleared the airport.”

The palace guards rushed forward, weapons drawn, but stopped when the carriage door swung open. Inside sat a heavily pregnant woman, her face deathly pale and completely exhausted from travel. "Please..." she whispered weakly, clutching the carriage frame. "I need to see Lady Seraphina immediately." Moments later, Seraphina and Morwen hurried out into the sunny courtyard. The woman collapsed into Seraphina's arms, clutching her hands as if her life depended on it. "My name is Isabel," the woman gasped out, her eyes wide with terror. "I... I managed to escape from Raven's Keep."

“Nice way to reframe it.” I scrunched up my nose and met his eyes immediately. “Nice way to reframe what?” “Running away, Isabel” “I am not running away.” “From this angle it looks like it. Everything you are is rooted in New York, but you'd rather go to Germany to live vicariously because you can't stand the thought of having whatever image you curated for yourself here to be ruined” I was stunned into silence. For seconds, I just stared at him. “I… I have curated no image of myself here.”

Quite honestly, I didn’t know why I was telling him all this, why I was ranting to someone I had just met. My tears fell freely now. “He looked me in the eyes and had me shot,” I whispered. “Like I was nothing. Like I was trash to be thrown away.” The room was silent except for my uneven breaths. “What do I have left?” I asked mostly to myself, my voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me, what do I have left?” Malakai's eyes studied me, and finally, he asked one question. Only one. “What exactly do you want, Isabella?”