Her

“Your mom died?”

“Yes, it was long ago.”

I´m at loss of words.

“How did she die?”

Her expression changes for a bit, it looked uneasy for an instant. “She had an accident.” She said looking at me going back to her usual coldness.

Hell no, if what she says is true, this part of the city was a warzone. She probably was killed.

“How about that?!” I point towards the newspapers on the wall. “She was part of a mafia isn´t she?”

“No, she dated a guy from the mafia. Don´t get too carried away, what I told you it´s true. I just don´t feel ready to give you details.”

“The guy from the newspaper… is he your father?” I asked expecting to provoke a reaction on her.

“Yes, he´s my father.” She said without hesitating.

“So, he got you enrolled to school?”

“Yes, you can say that.”

Unbelievable. I am not capable of reading her mind in the slightest. It´s so confusing.

“Are you okay?” she asked with a preoccupied voice.

“Yes, I think I´m tired.”

So, she shows concerned about me, but she isn´t ready to talk about why she is helping me and why her mother died. However, she can talk freely about any other sensitive theme without hesitation. It seems that she´s just too introvert. I´m an idiot, she´s a loner what was I expecting from her. Damn, this whole situation is affecting my reasoning already. I should take her offer to sleep on the couch.

“Wha…?! What are you doing?!” I said after making up my mind. She´s getting dress in front of me.

“I´m dressing up. Why? Does it bother you?” She said without looking at me.

“Yes! What is wrong with you?!” The moment I said those words, she froze. Did I sound too rude?

“Go out.” She´s said.

“What?”

“Go out, if you feel uncomfortable, then go out. I need to change.” She said.

I stand up, and leave the room. Unbelievable, doesn´t she have any common sense? How was she raised? Does she even know how to read? I need to calm down, every time I think about this I lose my cool. I take a deep breath. Being with her is really troublesome, no wonder why she doesn´t have any friends.

The door opens.

She comes out with sheets, pillows and blankets. Also, she´s wearing black pants and a loose shirt.

“Take:” She says while throwing at me those things.

I take them and begin to prepare to sleep on the couch.

“Good night”. She said after sitting on her couch.

“Good ni… What?! Are you going to sleep here?”

“Yes, is there any problem?”

“Of course there is! Don´t you have a room?” I said almost shouting.

“I´ve never had a room for myself and I don´t want to sleep in my mom´s bedroom, it makes me feel bad.” She said with her eyes close.

“But, where did you sleep when you were a kid?”

“Sometimes out…. the bathroom…. Here on the couch and in someone else´s house.” She said yawning now and then.

What type of life did she have? Maybe that´s why she´s so antisocial. I´m starting to believe she killed her mom.

“Did you hate your mom?” I asked.

“….” She opens her mouth but as soon as she opened it she closes it.

“I don´t know, and don´t want to talk about that. Now, shut up and sleep.” She said.

Her avoiding my question, makes uneasy. I don´t think I can trust her when she can´t tell me how her mother died. I have to be careful…

I know I´m asking too much, but she needs to realize that I can´t simply trust in her that easily. Yes, she has saved my life two times in a week but she makes it look suspicions for not giving me reasons. I hate to say it, but maybe she´s just dumb.

Without knowing, I fall asleep.

It´s morning, I can´t say I rested well but it certainly was better than when we first got in here, that time I was exhausted, it was more like I fainted rather than fell asleep. Food. It smells like Hope is cooking, it smells nice or probably I´m just starving for not having eaten since god know when.

“Oh, you woke up. Come, let´s have breakfast.” She said with a different expression. Was she perhaps happy? I´m so drowsy that I couldn’t see her well.

I stood up and walked towards the kitchen. It´s a pretty normal one compared to her mom´s bedroom and considering she said she used to sleep here. A table for a small family, there is space for four people and over the table are the dishes. Sandwich egg and inside something that resemblances bacon and cheddar cheese. Two cups of orange juice and some hot cakes. It looks good. I take a sit and she does as well. I start off by drinking juice to clear my throat.

“Hmm? Aren´t you going to eat?” I ask after noticing she was just looking at me, maybe she´s waiting for my reaction. I should start eating after all, I´m curious about the type of expression she would make.

I bite the sandwich. I can feel the cheddar cheese almost melted fit so well with the egg, the bacon on the other hand intensifies the flavor of these ingredients. Damn, it tastes better than I thought. How can something this simple tastes so good. I wonder what kind of face I made, it caught me out of guard. I feel a little embarrassed for lowering my guard so I look at her.

“Whoa...” I What a beautiful smile, she doesn´t look the same, it´s like two different persons. Her face it´s adorable.

“Did you like it?” She says with a smile bringing me back to the present.

“Yes.” I responded without thinking.

“Good.” She says, and after that she proceeds to eat as well.

“How did you learn to cook?” I asked.

“I learn by myself.” She says calmly.

“Did you cook for your mother?”

“Yes.” She says with a bitter tone of voice. Why is talking about her mom so difficult. I´m getting more and more interested, I can´t tell if they got along well or not.

“It´s great” I say. “When did you start cooking?”

“I don´t remember, maybe when I was six or seven years old.”

“You mother must have loved it”. I say that to see if she opens up a little.

“I don´t know, she never said anything about it. But I´m sure she hated it at the beginning when learning.” She says with a bitter look.

“Maybe she didn´t know how to express how she felt.”

She stops eating after hearing me say that.

“Maybe…” She said with a low tone of voice and then continued eating.

“Sorry, I won´t talk about your mom, all I wanted to say is that it tastes really good. You should be proud.” I said that trying to cheer her up.

She turns her eyes on me it seems she did not expect that. I turn my eyes away feeling ashamed. Why am I saying these things to her? Yes, she is helping me but I don´t have to forget that someone tried to killed two times already.

After all that, we finish eating.

She´s washing the dishes while I am still sitting on the table finishing the orange juice. I wonder if all this that just happened made her happy.

Suddenly, I hear various motorcycles approaching. Wasn´t this place inhabited? She immediately stops washing the dishes and heads to the window to have a view of the outside.

COME OUT YOU BITCH!! THIS TIME YOU WON´T GET AWAY EASILY!!

“What´s happening?” I say a little terrified. It seems they´re after her.

“It´s the mafia.” She says irritated and heads towards the kitchen but stops abruptly.

“What? What happen? Are you okay?” I asked in total confusion.

“Do you think violence is bad?” She asks me in the same place she stopped without turning back at me.

“Ah? I don´t know, maybe in self-defense. Sometimes you just have to protect yourself.” What am I saying? I sound stupid.

“Just in self-defense…” She then takes a kitchen knife. She looks more determined now. “Go and hide. They are after me; you don´t have to get involved in this.” She says with a firm tone of voice, no it was more like an order a mom would give to her child.

I hear footsteps from the outside, they are here.