Page 5 of Lourdes & the Mafia
“Hey…”
The screech I scream is enough to wake the dead and yeet my soul from my body. I whirl, pressing my palm to my chest as if that can steady my rapidly beating heart.
“Joder, girl. You scared the caca out of me.”
Yessi stands at the entrance of the kitchen, staring at me with wide eyes through her owl-like spectacles.
“Um, I was wondering if you wanted any help?” She looks uncertain and shy.
What a cutie.
My initial surprise wanes, and I gift her with a smile. “I’m almost done, but you can set the table if you want.”
After directing her towards all the utensils and things, she gets to work. I watch her with a smile from over the counter that separates the kitchen from the dining room. Everything she does, she does with careful, practiced precision. She’s very restrained and not in the way Naomi is. Despite being closed off and standoffish, Naomi is witty and quick to crack a joke. Yessi looks…uptight.
Stop it,I order myself. I need to stop comparing Yessi to Naomi. Naomi isn’t my roommate anymore.
With a sigh, I focus on the food. It’s almost doneand smells, well, fuckingchef’s kiss.
Cackling to myself, I move to shut off the stove when a tingling sensation trips down my body. An awareness like someone is watching me.
I turn slowly, my heartbeat speeding up and fear consuming my veins. Yessi is there once again, but she looks… different.
Gone is that shy demeanor. She looks cruel, with a wicked smile twisting her lips like a dame from a horror film.
Um…
“Are you okay?” I ask, though trepidation looms over me.
She doesn’t answer, though.
She attacks.
I stumble backwards as she reaches for me. She’s a blur of movement that my eyes can’t catch. I barely have time to even react before she’s on me.
My hands flail for purchase behind me, and the burning pain of the hot stove sears through my flesh, burning the skin from my hands. She strikes, a punch to my face that hurts so bad, I see stars and the room spins.
I slide on the floor in my socks, grasping for the counter for support, sliding dishes in the process. There’s a crash as they come tumbling to the floor, glass shattering at my feet. I gasp, tasting blood on my lips. Before I can bring my hands up to defend myself, she’s there again, digging her fingers into my scalp. I cry out as she rams her knee into my face.
When she lets me go, I tumble to the floor. My hands and knees scrape against the glass, stabbing through the burnt flesh.
Her own shoes crunch as she bends to my level. She no longer looks like the cute innocent woman I thought her to be.
She looksevil. And it’s so in contrast with everything I pictured her to be that genuine fear at the change charges through me.
“You’re a dumb fucking bitch.” Even her voice is cruel. Next thing I know, she’s holding up her hand, brandishing my kitchen knife that had fallen to the floor.
“Who are you?” I gasp, a sob choking through me.
She smiles. “Your worst nightmare.”
And then she shoves the knife into my flesh.
I jolt out of the vision with a gasp. My whole body shakes with violent tremors and my hands immediately go to my stomach, searching for a wound I already know isn’t there.
But it takes a while for my body to catch up with my mind, and for my mind to realize it was a vision, not reality.
My hands tremble and every inhale is filled with agony. My body pulses with pain I experience every time a vision drags me under. The sensation isn’t new to me, yet I can never get wholly used to it.
