The Alvarez Girls by J.E. Ortega

Author:J.E. Ortega [Ortega, J. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9798986982618
Publisher: Have a Cup of Johanny

CHAPTER NINE

Yaneriz wakes up with a blazing headache. Her neck and hip are sore as if she's slept in the worst position and didn't move. It's pitch dark, cramped, with a slight gasoline smell and the audible sound of a car engine. "What the fuck?"

She tries to sit up but bangs her head on something hard. "Coño!"

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," she hears Roberts' cocky ass voice.

Hearing him makes everything that happened in the past 24 hours return to her. The fucker knocked her out cold after distracting her. Yaneriz rubs her temples, all the while telling herself to calm down. But no matter how often she tries to self-soothe, waves of anger roll over her.

"So, it was you," she yells.

"I can't hear anything," Roberts calls out as if they are two friends on a road trip.

"Bullshit!"

"Should have stayed in Hell Paso taking stupid pictures," Roberts says in a maniacal sing-song voice that ups his creep factor times ten and lets her know he heard her.

Yaneriz pulls on her wrists, but the duct tape there has no give. She shimmies her body around to face the trunk door. The car bounces, and her hip lands on something hard and metal. She screams as soon as pain shoots from her hip, down her leg, and onto her entire body.

After minutes of excruciating pain, it morphs into throbs, which makes Yaneriz's breath come out in spurts.

Respira mi niña, her grandmother whispers.

Despite her pain, Yaneriz's lips twist in wry amusement. That's something La Doña would say, as if breathing fixes everything. As if it fixes being left without a mom and a dad, having to grow up faster than she should, and being rejected by the uncles she thought loved her.

At that moment, a wisp of light hovers in front of Yaneriz's eyes, and it's not so bright that it blinds her. It's gentle. Suddenly, a sense of calm engulfs her and lets her regain her breath.

Yo se, pero me tienes que creer, todo va estar bien mi cicloncito, her grandmother whispers.

Until then, Yaneriz had been annoyed—no, angry at her Abuela for choosing to be a quiet bystander. But maybe she's been trying to help in whatever way she can. Who knows what ghosts can or cannot do? Yaneriz reasons and her heart softens towards La Doña.

Once Yaneriz's thoughts slow down, and she can think, a question pops into her mind: Where's Roberts taking me?

She pulls her legs as far back as possible and then kicks the trunk with all her might.

Roberts curses. The car swings back and forth before it stops. Outside steps crunch dried foliage. The tailgate squeaks open, letting the pale moonlight assault her eyes.

Roberts looks at her feet. His gaze is dangerous. "I should have killed you back there."

The regret in his tone of not killing her makes Yaneriz's blood run cold.

Roberts' gaze travels from her feet to the part of the trunk he assumes she kicked. He raises an eyebrow. "That's going to come out of your bill," he says dryly.

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