And After that We Didn't Talk

Gloria

Chapter Eleven

"What the fuck is going on?" My screams were muffled by a wrinkled, but calloused hand.

"Ay dios mio! Will you shut the fuck up already?" A plump old woman whispered. Her eyes were cautious and serious. "Are you trying to get us all killed?" She had me pinned between the front door and a closet. She was strong for an older woman.

I shift my head to the side and placed my hands on my hip. "How are you mad, when you're the one that kidnapped me?" My voice was low and muffled.

"Me kidnap you?" she said pretending to spit on the floor. "You should be thanking me, I saved your skinny ass. If those things would have caught you, It would have been all over." She kissed her cross.

She removed her hand once I calmed down completely. "Are you hungry?" She asked, looking me up and down. "You look like you had a long night." She led me to the kitchen. "I don't have much, but I can spare a meal."

This bitch is bugging I thought to myself. "How are you going to kidnap me and then feed me?" I folded my arms. " I don't even't know your name."

"Well nobody is holding you hostage, Crazy girl-Locquita. The door is right there. You can go out into the night or you can stay here. Either way just shut the fuck up." She walked further into the house. The floor and walls were squeaky clean and smelled of bleach and incense. I almost felt guilty walking my dirty shoes through her candle lit home.

I was surprised when the old lady handed me a plate of stewed chicken, salad, and rice and beans. The plate was burning hot. As if reading my mind she replied "We have electricity. I just use it sparingly because it may attract the wrong  type people." I nodded and requested a pickle and hot sauce. She obliged reluctantly, cursing in Spanish under her breath. It reminded me of the first time Miguel introduced me to his parents. His mother was a spicy redhead that didn't speak a lick of English. Somehow, I managed to win her over. This old bag would be no different.

"What's on your mind hija? You look sad." The old woman said, taking down two mugs. "We can chat about it over tea."

"No,'' I said quickly. I don't think I can handle anymore tea," She handed me fruit punch instead. I told her everything from Ava and Miguel's betrayal to the introducers. I was so disgusted that I could feel my stomach turn with every word. When I was done, I was practically in tears.

"The bano is that way;" The old woman said pointing the way. I walked through a small dark hall and was presented with two doors. There were low groans coming from one. I placed my hand on the brass doorknob and tried to open the door, but it was locked. "The other door." The old woman's voice was low and serious. I tried the other knob and it opened with a long small creek. The bathroom was dimly lit by candles.

Something wasn't adding up. She never said mentioned there was another person here so who the fuck was that. Whoever it was, was definitely in a lot of pain. I went to the bathroom mirror and tightened my bun. It's probably nothing I told myself. She probably has dogs or something. I finally calmed down after splashing water on face...It's a good thing I put on waterproof eyeliner. As I turned to wipe my face with a paper towel, I was grazed by a mop handle sticking out of the bathtub. Pushing it to the side left a dark, sticky residue on my hands. What is that? I thought to myself. I could hear Sade's voice in my head saying, "Bitches love a good mystery" I smiled at the thought of my teenage best friend. So I did what she would do; I inspected the mop. The residue on the handle was faint. The strings of the mop were clean, definitely just bleached. Which definitely explains the lemony smell of the house. The bath tub was filled with miscellaneous items; rope, a wet plastic tarp with a pink tint, tape, and bleach. The bleach bottle had the same faint burgundy color on its handle. Even though the liquid on the tarp and the mop handle were two different colors, I was sure they were the same liquid. Sniffing the air there was a slight odor of copper hidden under the lemony smell of disinfectant. As I began to wash my hands it hit me. This was blood. I was washing someone's blood off of my hands. My mind was racing. I tried to suppress the scream but I couldn't. "Fuck, Fuck Fuck," I yelled. Who did she say she was. I tried to think back. But she didn't I was so wrapped up in talking about my problems that I didn't bother to ask her anything.

There was a soft knock on door, "Hija, are you okay?" Her voice was mixed with concern and something else...something forceful. The doorknob twisted, but didn't open. I could hear her body pressing against the door, listening on the other side.

Who is the fuck this lady? Is this lady a kidnapper? Am I next? I paced back and forth in the small room. This bitch is going to wear my skin like a dress, I thought to myself. I dropped down to my knees and vomited in the nearby toilet. The knock on the door was a bit more aggressive.

"Coming." I said flushing the toilet. I have to make this as believable as possible. I went over to the sink to wash my hands. Well she is old. I could probably rush her, beat her ass, rescue whoever, and then leave. "I'll be there in a minute." I said, throwing the hand towel in the trash. There I noticed blood stained pill bottles lying in the trash can, with some prescription belonging to a Gloria De La Cruz and others not. Fuck, this old bitch probably poisoned me.