WE ARE THE D.S (Somos la D.S - English version)

3. LOST SOULS

Roman

I try to move one of my arms numb from Baelee's weight. The blanket has slipped off the other and it feels like a chunk of ice had slept with me all night.

At what point did I become her pillow?

The brown-haired girl moans softly as my movements begin to wake her up and despite a superhuman attempt on my part, I don't succeed. Her eyes end up opening and with that she wakes up.

Even though we are enveloped in a kind of twilight, the light from the TV screen still bathes us in a blue blanket. I don't remember when I lost consciousness, but I have a theory that the sound of the screen dimming might have been the reason why I started to lose the thread with the movie and with reality itself.

"What time is it?" Baelee pronounces, wiping some saliva off her face. I can bet the rest has been left on my shirt.

Great, now I have her DNA on my clothes.

"It's twelve minutes past nine."

The girl in front of me can barely open her eyes. I could tell she looks adorable in my clothes if it weren't for her cocky, combative attitude that sets her apart.

"I should go to the bank before it's too late," she says and starts looking for something in her purse.

"I can make two cups of coffee, I think I have some sliced bread in the fridge and I can make a couple of slices of toast."

"That would be nice," she pronounces as her eyes are fixed on her cell phone and she starts walking towards the bathroom.

As I walk to the kitchen and set about putting together a decent breakfast, I hear the water running behind my ears.

It's strange having Baelee back in the house.

Last night felt like going back a thousand years into the past to when we were just a couple of kids with serious insomnia problems. Today we are two adults, or well on our way to being adults, with insomnia problems, but who have magically dropped like two kids in the first minute of the movie.

"The bathroom is free," Baelee approaches the kitchen now with a slightly more awake face.

As I let the coffee maker and toaster do their job I lose myself for a few seconds in the bathroom trying to bring some vitality to my face.

I'm a mess, having slept all night sitting on the couch has left my neck numb.

I don't think it's going to be easy from here on out. I don't think a cup of coffee or a little money can fix the mess I've gotten myself into.

...

I walk in the direction of Doga's large parking lot. Few would believe where this whole drug world starts from and how it can be camouflaged behind a nightclub from hell.

I bring all the money in a big bag because a couple of bills tripled when the fact that losing the drug had become a reality and interest was added to that.

My hands are sweating and the textile is sliding off my skin. I'm a fucking terrified child who needs his mother to seek peace, but my mother has long since come into her own. In my case, I'm closer to stepping into hell and as I slip through one of the hot concrete side tunnels, I can smell pure sulfur and I know it's the end is near.

I notice Paul, the man who introduced himself as the power figure in the club. It seems like everything here is named after him. The unkempt looking guy, greasy blond hair, turns as he unpleasantly chews a piece of gum.