St. 54

“‘Are you like a crazy person?’ – Evey

‘I am most certain they will say so.’ – V”

– V for Vendetta

The supposed pain filled her exposed skin and cooled the anger of her chest. She matted the unclaimed married woman off her lips. 

One minute. That’s all she had.

Taking her first victim, she choked the white threads that silenced her many times. Next, she sliced the bed that’d carried her hips. Her increasing screams competed with the harsh decibels of the speaker projecting from the phone, and the tossed salad of furniture that hit the walls. 

One minute. In one minute, she had destroyed her house. Silencing the phone, she waited for the comfort of cuffs.

“Cuanto cuesta?” Or how much? Always translated in her head regardless of the usual nasal accented English that brushed across her ears. She didn’t bother to answer as she thought about room 303. Her body shifting in her seat, as she recalled going down the fragile rail one last time. Threatened by years of obesity, sweaty palms, and the increasing appearance of the sun, the calcium deprived rail pivoted a fatal fall to the first floor of the two-story motel.  

“How much?” The uniform clad officer asked again. He was at least six foot, well above her 5’5 frame. An older gentleman with the faint scars of a kiss forming the inner recesses of his mouth

She didn’t know how much, she never did. Placing the pressure of her hand to fill her slim abdomen, Guadalupe told the story of her mesh clad body that exposed peaks of a latte skin. 

“My name is Guadalupe Flores, I am a citizen of New Mexico, and I am awaiting return.”

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