Brisa Martin

When we first meet Brisa in Madrid, she’s just waking up from a night she doesn’t remember. An addict, Brisa’s life has not been handed to her, and although she grew up fast, she still has a ray of hope.

A no-nonsense woman, Brisa doesn’t intend to stay down for long. When she comes to find the truth of her spirit, she is deeply touched, changed for all time. Brisa believes in human goodness, and knows it is why she is alive today.

Mario is an example of that goodness.


He glanced over at her in the passenger seat beside him, she was still gazing out the window, lost in a scene of horrors he knew nothing about. He pressed the accelerator down as they left the boundaries of the city, the old car letting out plumes of smoke from the exhaust as it made every effort to hurry. Brisa turned from the window and, still sitting with her legs pulled to her chest, rested her chin on her knees.

“Why aren’t we there yet?” she asked, turning her head to look at Mario, resting a cheek on her knee.

“We are.” He told her just as he turned the wheel to the right and pulled in front of an abandoned warehouse, a splintered wooden door its only entrance save for two broken windows three meters above the street. He shifted the car into park and pulled the emergency brake. 

Unfolding herself, Brisa opened the passenger door and stretched her legs outside the door, planting her feet on the ground. Pushing off the door frame, she stood upright and stretched her ams overhead, grasping a wrist to extend her arms farther, then leaning from side to side to flex her entire torso. “That’s better.” She mumbled before stepping towards the wooden door to take the handle. It wasn’t locked, but took finesse to wiggle it out of its frame. Brisa worked the door like she worked a pipe, finally pushing it open to step inside, Mario right behind her.

Other than a thin stream of grimy light falling on the floor through the open door, the room was dark and smelled of liquor and sweat- a sweet, musky odor Brisa found comforting and familiar. Three mattresses lay on the floor, darks stains left by junkies and tricks dotted their surfaces. Brisa flopped onto one of them, unconcerned about the stains, the smell, or the brutal reality of where she was on this Christmas Day. 

“Let’s smoke Mario, I’m ready man.”

“Maybe we should take a break, just be clear for a little while. What do you say-“

 Brisa laughed and spread her legs. “You can fuck me first if that’s what you’re getting at-“

“For god’s sake Brisa, not everyone is your enemy.”

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