Chapter One: "The first meeting"

Before you start reading, dear reader, I want to warn you that English is not my first language so there may be mistakes or grammatical mistakes. I try to do my best so that it can be read.

You can always report any misspelling or mismatch.

I wish you a good read and I thank you for starting to reading me.

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The solution may be just like them. Have fun for once in your life and stop being so boring. Maybe the best thing is to get drunk and lose up a little. Although I don't think it's a good idea. He could have had a better summer if he had gone outside as much as Diana and Alice.

My story begins with one of the most typical clichés; the beginning of the institute. And that your roommates are party animals and you are the most self-contained person, is another. I created it this way. I was the one who wanted to live this way, but there was a turn that would hurt my life that I was unable to predict and that changed the course of my life forever. Although everything comes next, I do not want to anticipate events. So let's start the cliches.

Exactly an hour and a half ago, I was able to lie down on the bed. The reason? The hustle and bustle that comes after a night out. Those two are like the buzzing of a mosquito in the middle of a summer night, but louder and more annoying. I have spent most of the night holding Diana's blonde hair while she poured the bile from her mouth. As you can understand after seeing that it has been a failed mission to try to sleep.

I reluctantly get up from my bed and dress in the simplest way; a black shirt, tight pants of the same color. I slip on and tie a bun in an attempt to look a little more decent. As I drag my feet down the hall, I think about how long my summer has been.

I always had the idea that being independent would be more fun and better, but it was a mistake. No one ever taught me how to file an income tax return or how to make a simple money transfer at the ATM. I am a denier for adult things. I had to find a job to pay for everything. It sounds obvious and logical, however, I never thought it would be so complicated. He was old enough, yes, but not the studies or experience they asked for. Over and over again I hit a wall and thought I would end up on the street until I realized that I had to start at the bottom, for difficult jobs, where they did not pay enough. I have ended up working more than twelve hours in a day for less than what I expected to achieve. No one ever told me that being an adult was so difficult.

In the end, I got a job as a waitress in a cafeteria that also offered restaurant service, and it is not that they pay a fortune but it is the best I have found. And if before I didn't feel like going to university, now I'm dying to go, to have a good job, that I like it, that they pay well, and in which I don't curse the universe as much as I am doing now. And all of this happened in the short period of two and a half months on vacation. I don't even want to imagine what it will be like next; work and study at the same time. Just thinking about it gives me a huge headache.

I remember that the first days of June were calm, monotonous, I daresay even boring. We could do what we wanted and no one said anything to us, apart from the odd neighbor pissed off by the noise. With all that freedom it got a bit out of hand. We spent the money we had saved on nonsense, on things that could wait, or shopping like the end of the world was near. We bought everything that we were not allowed at home, either because of the price or because it was unhealthy. During this summer we have all gained weight, the good thing is that we compensate with exercise. They in one that involves two people, in a bed and naked and I in my double shifts.

At the end of June, it no longer seemed like a home, it was, apart from a pigsty, a companion house, a subway station. I saw so many faces in the morning that I stopped memorizing their names or their faces. I knew that I would no longer see them, that the next night I could be a different person.

All for me equal; dark, sky-scratching stature, brown mostly decorating his irises, provocative lips, dark hair, and the appearance of a bird's nest. I always saw them after the party so if I see them without a hangover or well dressed and not half-naked, I would not recognize them. And all those who met their requirements came to spend the night with them. They could even repeat as a man, although it was unusual because none of them wanted anything with anyone.

I just want sex and that's it, having a partner is a pain in the heart that I could not bear, Diana told me one day, intoxicated. That day I hugged her until she fell asleep and I wanted to know who had been to blame for her. He wanted to know who it was that had torn her generous heart apart. And at that moment I questioned my job as a best friend of hers. What kind of friend doesn't know who has broken her heart? Well, the same friend who does not accompany her when she goes shopping or goes with her to a simple party. As a friend I am the worst, I thought when slight snoring reached my ears that night.

And then there is Alice. Quite a complicated girl, to tell the truth. And by this I mean the relationship she has with the people around her. She is cold as ice to everyone and people often feel threatened by her murderous gaze. If there is someone who asks me about her, I always say that it is a love and that it is just a facade but very few people have stayed to verify it. And I am sorry that only Diana is, that I know, by her side. As far as I know, they only share a taste for fashion, men, parties, and alcohol.

What do you want me to tell you, dear reader, I am not a person who likes to make many friends so I am not very clear if it is possible to continue having a friendship having only that in common. All I know is that it works for them, and I'm partly happy about it. It is the way we complement each other. That's what friendship is, right?

"Diana!" I yelled in front of her door.

I know she shouldn't be awake, and if she ever does, my screaming voice is the only thing she doesn't want. This is called revenge for making him see what was in her stomach, and smell it.

"Do you want something for breakfast?"

As expected, no voice comes from inside her room so I put my thirst for revenge aside for the moment, but I plan to recover it once she's sober.

To be honest, these kinds of situations no longer cause me as much embarrassment as they did in the beginning. When I started living with them, I was surprised by the agility with which they got their prey. Yes, I call them that. In the end, it is as if it were raining in spring; You know what has to happen and you have to put up with the sadness that, many times, it brings. When it rained Alice would lock herself in her room to do God knows what, Diana would stare out the super nostalgic window and I, next to her, would read a good book accompanied by a good coffee. She seemed to be the only one at home who enjoyed those moments.

I get to the kitchen and I spend a few minutes watching how disorder stars in the scene. It shows that we do not like to wash dishes so since they will be with a hangover and in a bad mood for the rest of the day when I get home from work I will have to get to work.

As I can, I take my cup —which is exclusively for coffee— and I clean it, trying to ensure that the balance that seems to hold everything together without everything falling apart, is not disturbed. Like an automated robot, I turn on the machine to make my anti-drowsiness concoction and take the opportunity to make myself two toasts. While my breakfast is being prepared in the kitchen, I retrace my steps arriving at my room. The state of my room is no better than the kitchen and I don't even want to imagine how the bathroom should be. Just thinking about all the things I have to do today to improve the state of the house makes me lazy and I sigh wearily.

I need the coffee before I fall asleep standing right here.

I pick up my mobile from the ground and, to cheer myself up, I put the Spotify list created for this very purpose. I tuck it into the back pocket of my pants and go back to the kitchen.

I have previously said that this type of situation no longer creates discomfort or surprise, but I always conclude that anything can happen in this house.

In that same disastrous kitchen, which doesn't look like mine, I find a man with his back to me eating my toast. I clear my throat to get his attention and when I get it brown eyes look at me indifferently. I frown because, although those eyes are common to most of the population, they seem different and familiar to me. Without really knowing how my body approaches his. My body is enveloped by a kind of difficult to define sensation. I feel cold and heat at the same time on my skin, my jaw begins to ache from the great force that I am exerting on my teeth and two completely different emotions collide in my head. A wave of anger that I do not understand begins to run through my veins. I fix my gaze more on his iris and, due to the effect of some light, his eyes change color. Confusion and curiosity outweigh the possible inexplicable anger he felt. And it doesn't diminish when he breaks eye contact with me as soon as I open my mouth to try and say something. I have no idea what I could have wanted to say to him and in a desperate attempt to tell him what he wanted, I try to grab his arm to stop his advance but it is as if I had anticipated it because I cannot even touch his skin. I stare at his back moving away from me as if it were slow motion and disappearing from my sight.

When I finally return to the Earth world, I put my hands to my head. I feel my cheeks burn and in my head, the scene repeats itself over and over again.

I've looked like a stalker, right?

What the hell was the force that enveloped me?

Why didn't I take her eyes off him?

Why does he look familiar to me?

Why did you eat my toast?

And most shocking of all, how could I have been so calm all the time when he was half-naked?

When everything returns to normal in my body I decide that it is time to start moving. My hair is a mess, combed or uncombed, but I always try to keep it presentable for as long as possible. I let go of the bun, I comb it trying not to leave half my hair on the comb and I look at the result in the mirror.

Yes, I already knew. On the first day of school and it will seem that who has been going to party and comes with a hangover is me.

So I go for the best easiest way to keep everything in the same direction. A ponytail will do, I try to convince myself. And my heart seems to stop when my fingers make contact with the scar at the base of my skull. I frown and clench my teeth again.

Why do you keep torturing yourself?

You won't get teeth if you keep doing what you do.

I turn around and support my body on the bathroom sink. I've been having strange sensations all damn summer, not as strange as the one in the kitchen with that man, but similar. Mixed feelings and emotions when I do, touch, or think about something specific. I never get to know what is the purpose or the answer to what is going through my head at that moment. And it's one of the first things I hide from my sister and my best friend. With them, I usually explain everything, but with what is happening to me lately, it is completely impossible. Nor would I know how to make them understand something that I do not understand.

With all this going on in my head, I go back to the kitchen. I try to search my mind for the semblance of that face, those familiar eyes. I try to understand what is happening around me because I cannot let this haunt me forever. I need answers. The point is, where do I look for them?

"Karla?" Diana's hoarse and sleepy voice reaches my ears and I come back to myself. "Are you okay? You are very pale. You seem to have seen a ghost."

My brain seems to be disconnected and I can't find the right words to answer it.

I put on my jacket and put the backpack on my shoulders without being able to say a peep. I get out of the floor quickly and when I finally reach the portal and feel the cold breeze touch my cheeks I exhale the air that I was holding.

You're so weird, huh?

You asked for it, my dear.

I get in the car and without a fixed course I get fully into traffic

Looking back I may not have noticed the signs. The ones that predicted everything to come, the ones that would determine what kind of person I would become. The signs that I was a freak and that they were watching me, very closely.