Levittown

31. Tell me how you feel

Forget about her.

Why? Why did you want me to forget? I forgot and she disappeared. It's my fault.

I can't love you!

Why can't you love me? Am I not enough? Is my love not enough? Is it because of my skin color?

Alexa, do you feel it? Your mother's insanity, coursing through your blood?

I do. It's like venom, poisoning everything that's good in me.

I'm always watching. You wouldn't want to end up like Melody, would you?

Shut up! You didn't deserve her. I hate you.

You're not alone in this, Alexa. I hope you know that.

Then why do I feel so lonely? Why do I feel so terrified all the time? I'm slipping away, and you can't do anything. You're just a witness to my demise.

They don't understand the beauty of your skin, the complexity in your curly hair, the struggle of existing.

I know, mommy. I know. Your words were incomprehensible back then, but they ring so true right now.

Mommy, why are you red?

Why are you red? Why are you red? Why are you red?

Their voices overcrowd my mind, each of them blending to one, raucous sound. I can feel a headache forming. When they're too loud, too much to bear, I begin to run without looking back. Trees and bushes stand on either side of me, but they begin to morph into a green blur the faster I run. The only sound that engulfs me is that of my shallow breaths. Blood is pumping in my ears and everything goes in slow motion despite my running.

As if on instinct, I stop in front of the curvy path and see Sebastián's summer house on its end. Now that I pick a normal pace, I can feel the sweat covering my body -- rolling down my back, glistening on my arms and legs, dripping from my temples. It's just like when we were kids racing to the riverbank with our bikes. Only this time, I'm not here to have fun with my friends. I'm here to discuss with one of them his relationship with my murdered best friend.

How strange, to walk around a place so sacred to a bunch of eleven-year-olds who live in the past. How many times did we race through this same path to the riverbank without thinking that one of us would be killed six years in the future? How many times did we laugh, cry, and talk about things that now seem silly? When did this, our safe haven, become a place of horrors?

As the frantic beating of my heart slows down and my thirst only intensifies, Sebastián's summer house comes into view. Like in a glitching film, I see parts of the house during that night -- the party blasting inside, the streams of green and purple lights, the music shaking the structure of the house, shaking the ground beneath me.

There's a grove forming a circle around Seb's summer house, leaving some space in front of it as if it's a gateway to some other dimension. Now that I see the house in daylight and surrounded by what looks to be an ominous spot, I can't help but think that we were all doomed from the start. I mean, what are the odds? It's no coincidence that we loved hanging around this strange place. It's no coincidence that it was so attractive to us, so alluring. It's no coincidence that it tempted us to do bad things. It's no coincidence that we loved every second of it.

It was like it spoke to us.

Sebastián is sitting on one of the front steps, a cigarette in between his fingers. He looks like he just rolled out of bed -- his dreadlocks are all tangled and disheveled, some prominent bags rest underneath his eyes, and his oversized shirt has creases. As I walk to him, I curse him in my mind for making me meet him here. Why not the library or his own house?