Chapter Two - Clues
Next
stop: Julio’s house. She drove her red BMW all the way through city center,
staring at every single person she could, finding herself surprised by the urge
to kill, to give an escape to all of her hatred.
For
the very first time she felt free, free to wear anything she wanted to, to do
whatever he may have liked.
Before
getting into Julio’s apartment which was on the other side of town, she took a
free ride into shopping mall and bought some sexy stuff she had never worn
before, maybe because she was too shy, maybe because of her job. Out of the
mall she went to a lonely abandoned country place and took some selfies with
her beloved journalist’s camera, while wearing new stuff she had bought.
After
that she re-dressed in black normal clothes not to attract other’s people
attention, as she had to trespass Julio’s house limits entering without keys.
Her
red car was way too flashy so she had to park it away from building entrance and
walk. Along the way she thought about new ways of making money, an insane thought
of sex, cameras and fetish smashed in her head, even if she still didn’t know
where she was going to move to, she knew she will have been keeping in touch
with that idea in the next future.
Once
in the backyard of Julio’s house she wanted to be sure no one was inside and no
neighbor could have been seeing her. Then she was soon inside as she knew how
to enter from a back window.
Interiors
were dirtier than ever, there was a mess, just like if someone had to flee from
a hurricane. Ironically the hurricane was her, a girl who had been always shy
and submissive. Then, if she was considered a hurricane sure as hell she was
going to be a huge one.
Searching
for clues all over his house she ran into a postcard in the basement, it was sent
a year before, it said “greetings from Cape Cod”, stamp spotted location was
near Columbus, Georgia. She was feeling rage was mounting in her body as she
remembered his former man’s previous year trip to Columbus for a job meeting
(at least as she was been told). She sensed her claws were like shaking. Then
she turned the postcard and read the message that was written on the back: “Me
ha gustado mucho”, which she knew meant “I liked it a lot”. There was no signature
or anything else in that postcard, but she was quite sure she had found a
pathway to follow. As she was mentally recalling pieces of his past lies and
excuses, she was hit by the chance Julio had been having a hidden relation with
a Mexican girl near Columbus, or at least a Spanish speaking one. That hit
brought her a ferocious state of mind in which she found comfort, a comfort in
destroying everything in that basement. She started breaking all glasses,
tearing down all shelves and then crushing everything she could with her spiky
boots. At that point she found herself sweating in front of an old big mirror, which
she was being reflected into. She thought she was like Robert De Niro in Taxi
Driver and she said:
-
You did this to me? You dared to do this to me? Then you gonna pay?
While
she was facing that mirror, she started clawing the air like dominated by a
demonic force, she was in a trance, like she had someone in front of her,
someone to be scratched till death, someone that surely would have been torn
apart. She liked a lot.
As
she regained consciousness, she felt satisfied with that new satanic version of
her, as she found herself even excited by her newly discovered demonic pawers,
she then decided that Sata was gonna be her new name. She was going to pay a
visit to a guy who had been cooperating with the journal, whom she knew she
could ask a fake passport to. Her real name then will have been Sata. “Sata
what?” she thought, and then her childhood memories came to her mind, time
spent in Romania and a woman, who was a witch, called Lina.
-
Yes, Lina. My name’s Sata Lina - she said while leaving the basement in a mess.
After
that she left Julio’s house and, while walking in the street towards her car,
she felt like she wanted to start and live a more intense life, she felt she
had to do the first thing she could do in town, an act with no reason or scheduled
action. Then she took the road to Charleston with her rock music on. A few
miles out of town, while listening to Kyuss, she saw a poster of a new medical
clinic that was going to open that day, where everyone was invited to join and
eat something.
“My
lunch”, she thought, and drove to the near district that hosted that new
building. Once arrived she lifted her head and wowed at the majestic height of
that skyscraper, the clinic was placed at the first, seventh, and last 10
floors (from 90th to 100th), the meeting was held on the
roof terrace, that’s where she went spontaneously.
Once
on the roof she was thrown into a crowd with hundreds of clinicians, nurses and
normal people moving like locusts to and from the buffet table. She didn’t feel
quite well. That people, pressed up like sardines, height of the roof and all
of her thoughts, threw her in a state of confusion. Some people started
watching her, staring at her long nails she had always tried to hide, although
she was feeling a change into her mind, a more open view of life, a new fresh
air of who-gives-a-fuck-ness, she knew she needed more time to get in touch
with this more aggressive and free way of living. Then she left as soon as she
could, taking the lift all way down to the garage in the basement floor, where
she finally reached her favorite kind of place, a dark spot, with less people
as possible, and in contact with the ground, the cement, the pavement,
something steady, as she feared big heights.
While
going to take her car garage radio was playing General Johnson’s version of The
Ramones’ Rockaway Beach, even if she didn’t like that kind of beach pop music,
she felt better and a new river of energy got through her veins, like a kind of
electric shock reaching the pointed sharp end of each one of her twenty long
nails.
end of chapter two
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