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I flinched. Berating myself internally for being too harsh.
“Perdón,” I said as the door behind me opened, and the scent of flowers and sweat poured out around us. Maestra Cecelia was standing there, looking beautiful and put together as she said, “Oh good! You’ve already met Carmen. Lovely girl, isn’t she? I am dying to take you on a tour.”
I slipped inside with a little wave to the man that was still glaring at me.
My self-esteem was plummeting through the floorboards, but I hurried up the stairs and burst into my rooms. My chest was heaving as I sank toward the closed door.
All the adrenaline had seeped out of my body, and I was left with nothing but exhaustion. I tugged on the zippers and laces of my after show clothes and stepped out of them.
I trudged over to the bed in mine and Magda’s room and slid myself under the covers. After tucking my knees into my chest, I closed my eyes.
Shame heated my skin and pricked at my cheeks and chest while the sight of Antonio ignoring my outstretched hand played over and over behind my eyes.
I was so tired.
Chapter5
A Dead Man Dying
Blaring sirens rattled my bones and shook me out of sleep. A searing flash of panic snatched me away from aquatic nightmares. The world around me was black, save for a single light where our room looked out over the alley.
Then the ugly sound pierced the air again, this time paired with green and red flashing lights. Small prickly hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up.
“Magda,” I hissed. A familiar sweet-acid taste was already filling my throat. Red and green lights meant that there were Guardias nearby. They used sirens to alert people that there was danger in the street.
It would’ve been comical if I wasn’t ready to lose my simple dinner all over the floor. Guardias were the real danger.
Despite knowing that I could get in trouble for spying on official security business, I slid my legs off the bed and planted them on the cool floorboards. My breath whooshed in and out of my lungs. A morbid need to see was pulling me toward the window.
“Magda,” I choked out.
“What?” my friend asked with a hoarse voice. Feeling emboldened by her presence, I grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the warmth of the messy bed. The sheets were threadbare, but still soft. It was a shame to leave them behind.
I silently promised them to return soon.
“There’s something going on in the street,” I whispered.
Just as Magda was rubbing the fatigue from her eyes, the sirens stopped.
She stopped immediately, having finally sensed the genuine danger.
“Carmen, stay away from that window,” she said slowly. Strongly.
A chill ran down my spine as I glanced back at Magdalena, but I slid all the way off the bed. Ignoring another breathy supplication from my friend, I crept toward the window. With slow, steady movements, I crouched down so that only my eyes and forehead were visible from outside the window.
After one deep breath, I forced myself to look outside.
On the street was a dark green truck with a red light flashing atop the roof. Two enormous figures clad in black uniforms were chasing after a man wearing clothing that identified him as a Trabajador.
With one hand pressed tightly to my chest, I watched as the Guardias caught up to him and violently tackled him to the ground. The row was happening just behind a streetlight, which ensured more than adequate illumination.
Magda appeared at my side right as they wrestled him to the pavement. She squeezed my hand. “Carmen, we should stop watching.”
She was right, but I couldn’t look away. My lungs stopped working.
“Carmen.”
My eyes were glued to the scene unfolding below me. Three figures tangled in a ferocious mess of limbs and retractable metal batons. I couldn’t look away. They were right outside our home.
