Chasing Ghosts

"Ramona! Get your ass up from the bed!" Antonia’s voice came, loud enough for the whole LA to hear, undoing the peaceful silence of the morning, cutting through Ramona's sleep like a knife. She groaned, burying her face deeper into the pillow, willing the world to disappear.

"Ramona, I swear to God, if you don't get up, I'll pour water on you," Antonia threatened, standing by the bedroom door akimbo.

Ramona let out a frustrated sigh, her body aching with exhaustion. "It's Monday already?" she grumbled, voice muffled against the pillow. She really didn’t want to leave the comfort of her soft bed.

"Yes, genius. Monday. Work. Bills. Reality. Now move!" Antonia said, walking back to the kitchen, to continue her cooking.

Ramona rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She hated Mondays. She hated waking up early. But more than anything, she hated the job she had to drag herself to every morning, even though it paid the bills, and her boyfriend owned the place.

She grumbles, as she gets off the bed, and walks to the kitchen area in their small apartment, where she was greeted by the smell of freshly made pancakes, eggs, and bacon filled the air, teasing her senses. No matter how terrible her mornings were, there was one thing that always made them slightly better, Antonia. She was the best person Ramona knew, her anchor in a world that often felt too cruel.

”You're lucky you can cook, or else I would have murdered you for waking me up like this," she muttered, taking a seat, while rubbing her eyes.

Antonia laughed. "You love me, and you know it!"

Ramona didn't respond, just rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna freshen up, don’t wanna be late”. She said, earning a nod from Antonia. She walked to their bathroom, pulled off her clothes, and got into the shower. The droplets of cold water hit her skin, making her wince in displeasure. She had forgotten to get the heater fixed. She sighed deeply, letting the water wash away her anger.

Few minutes later, she emerged, showered and dressed in a fitted blouse and slacks, Antonia was already setting the table. The small apartment smelled like a dream warm, buttery, and comforting.

Anotina always made their little apartment feel like a home. Something she couldn’t experience for long.

Antonia placed Ramona's plate in front of her, arching a brow. "Since when do you sleep in?"

Ramona picked up her fork, stabbing at a piece of bacon. "Since I started hating my job," she said flatly.

Antonia chuckled, shaking her head. "I knew you'd say that."

They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the clinking of utensils against plates. But Ramona wasn't one to stay quiet for long.

"I'm getting close, Antonia," she said suddenly, her voice filled with a quiet determination.

Antonia sighed, already knowing what was coming. It had been that way for six years now, and Ramona was not giving up anytime soon.

"Close to what?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"To catching him. Killian. That Murderer!" She said, taking the jug filled with orange juice and pouring herself a little out of it.

Antonia stilled, her fork hovering above her plate. "Ramona…". She dragged. This topic had to have an expiry date, because it wasn’t good for Ramona’s mental health

"I know I'm hot on his tail," Ramona continued, ignoring the warning tone in her best friend's voice. "I have a lead, someone who knows where he'll be in two weeks."

Antonia set her fork down with a sigh. "And then what, Ramona? You just waltz in there and… what? Take him down by yourself?". She asked, popping an her eyebrow.

Ramona's jaw tightened. "I'll expose him. I'll make sure the whole world sees him for the monster he is.". She added, her breathing stiff. She hated the fact that the stupid murderer was running free, and still leading a very dangerous Mafia gang.

Antonia rubbed her temples. "You've been chasing this ghost for six years. Six years, Ramona. When will you let it go?". She said, sounding frustrated. She was tired, tired of watching Ramona, get close to figuring out the truth, only to be chasing a dead end. And she wasn’t going after any man, she was looking for the Devil people talked about in hushed whispered. Antonia fears do for Ramona’s life.

Ramona froze. Her grip on the fork tightened. "You know I can't," she said quietly.

"Why not?" Antonia pressed.

"Because he murdered my father!" Ramona's voice rose, her eyes burning with an intensity that made Antonia's heart clench.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but the rage inside her was like a wildfire—uncontrollable, all-consuming.

"I can't just let go of everything I've been working toward," she continued. "I am this close to getting him. And when I do, I'll make him pay."

Antonia watched her best friend, she could see it all in Ramona’s actions. Anger, pain, the will for revenge, and it made her heart ache for her. "Do you even know what he looks like?. Have you seen him before?. Maybe in a picture or some blogs?"

Ramona hesitated for a second before shaking her head. "Not yet. But my lead does. They'll tell me where he'll be."

Antonia sighed deeply, her expression filled with concern. "Ramona, this is dangerous. You can't keep living like this. You're putting yourself in harm's way."

Ramona clenched her jaw, suddenly feeling exhausted by the conversation. She had heard this a million times before, but no one understood. No one had felt the pain of losing a father the way she had. No one had spent years digging through the darkness, trying to bring a monster to light.

She pushed back her chair and stood, grabbing her bag.

"I love you," she said, her voice softer now. “Thanks for breakfast”.

Antonia sighed, knowing there was no changing Ramona's mind.

"Have a great day," she said, forcing a small smile. "And stay out of trouble."

"Yeah, yeah. Love you, babes."

And with that, Ramona walked out the door, leaving Antonia behind with a heavy heart.

As the door clicked shut, Antonia let out a slow breath, staring at the now-empty seat across from her.

Ramona needed help.

She needed to let go of the past. Or one day, it would destroy her.