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PILAR WOULD ALWAYS BE TRAPPED in an infinite loop of either not caring at all or caring way too much. But ever since Marina's death, all she did was care way too much. She was stuck, drowning in a sea of worry, anxiety, and hopelessness; and right now, not caring seemed like a luxury she couldn't afford—which in reality, was ironic on several levels. Guzmán's outburst of violence only further cemented the feeling of hopelessness. She had this lump in her throat that was difficult to swallow.
Once everything calmed down and the dust had settled, Pilar made her way to the washroom to fix her formerly perfect hair, as all of the stress-pulling and tugging gave it an unwanted messy appearance.
Pilar's eyes bored into the mirror in front of her, fixed on her disheveled hair and faltering smile. Lost in her thoughts, it was as if she was locked in a daze, not noticing the girl from earlier perched on the windowsill. The girl watched Pilar carefully, as if she was locked in a similar daze. She absentmindedly took a drag of her cigarette, her eyes still focused on Pilar. Smoke drifted up and lazily floated out the opened window.
"Is that mirror whispering back to you, princess?"
Pilar flinched at her words, not realizing that someone was with her in the washroom. She hadn't expect anyone to see her in this state and hadn't anticipated the intrusion. She blinked and transferred her gaze in the mirror to the girl from earlier this morning. Both girls stared at each other for a while, neither saying a word.
It was one of those moments where time and space was suspended, frozen almost.
"I was just trying to figure out what to do with my hair. It's a mess after the little fight."
"You should wear it down," the girl responded, before standing up and walking out of the washroom.
Pilar's eyes followed the girl and remained on the closing door for a few extra moments. The quiet buzz of her phone jarred her out of her trance. Glancing down at her phone, she sighed at the sight of Lu's text.
MEET US BY YOUR LOCKER. WE'RE GOING FOR LUNCH, DARLING.
Pilar loved her friends with all her heart, but she was worried that no one would talk about Guzmán's concerning behavior. She knew that they were just as worried as she was, but no one wanted to anger him more so or put pressure on him.
Shaking her head, she finished perfecting her hair—which she wore down—and began making her way to her locker.
Whether Pilar knew it at the time or not, the tragic murder of Marina cracked the walls that the students of Las Encinas and their families built around themselves with their side deals and less than legal business ventures. Now darkness was seeping in through the cracks, tainting their security and poisoning the things they once loved. Guzmán's schoolboy outburst would be only the beginning.
