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She stifled as she raised her gaze, her eyes red.
“Let’s go. You cleaned everything.”
“Everything?” She whispered, looking back down. Her fingers were red from the combination of bleach
“Let’s get you out of here,” Noelle said, stooping low and helping Lucero to her feet.
The girl was still in shock, trembling from head to toe.
Ensuring everything was as they had found it and that she had the bags of shrooms they’d come for, Noelle led Lucero out of the facility.
As they got back to the hacienda, the girls went back to Noelle’s apartment, locking themselves inside.
Seeing that Lucero was still mostly out of it, Noelle took out a bottle of alcohol, filling two glasses and handing one to her friend.
“He was going to hurt you,” she pointed out in an attempt to make her feel better.
“I know,” she whispered. “It still doesn’t make it better. Or right.”
“Oh, it does make it right. I truly don’t know how you survived so far with that soft heart of yours, Lulu. Someone could literally stab you to death and you would still not wish to retaliate.”
“Well,” she took a sip of alcohol, licking her lips as she stared into the distance. “I would be dead. I wouldn’t be able to retaliate anyway.”
Noelle stared at her for a moment before bursting out in laughter.
“There’s still hope for you,” she chuckled.
“Is there?” Lucero asked after a moment.
“We survive, Lulu. That’s what we’re doing, and what we’ll continue to do,” Noelle sighed. “I know you’re not comfortable with some scenarios, so leave everything to me. My soul is already black. Yours can still be saved.”
“Can it? Because I doubt it.”
“I’ll never ask you to do something that goes against your beliefs again,” Noelle added.
“No.”
“What?”
“I can do it. I can…try. I can’t promise I’ll always be able to do it, but I’ll try. You’re right that we need to survive,” she took a deep breath. “For too long I thought I didn’t deserve better—that my fate was to suffer.”
“You can’t possibly believe that!” Noelle gasped.
“Not anymore,” she smiled. “I believe there is something out there—you called it karma. I think it exists, and what happened to El Señor is proof enough that there is justice in the world.”
“Why do you keep calling him El Señor when you know he’s nothing more than a charlatan?”
“Do I? I guess it’s been ingrained in my brain,” Lucero mused. “It feels odd to call him anything else.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t call him at all. Maybe we should just refer to him asit.”
“It?” Lucero’s eyes sparkled with amusement.
Noelle was happy to see that her friend was slowly recovering from her shock so she continued to joke around, finding different funny names to refer to Sergio—creating their very own secret language.
They drank and laughed, and for a moment, the world didn’t seem as bleak.
24Noelle
