“How did you get in!” Finley exclaimed. She rattled the doorknob to assure herself the door was still locked.
“James, you were wronged by the women you love,” the woman said, ignoring Finley, “But you have no further part in this disaster.”
“A-a-abuelita?” he stuttered, his feet faltering as he approached her.
“Go home to your family,” she cooed as he knelt before her. “I promise you will not feel this pain in a season. In a year, you will barely remember either of them.”
“No,” James shook his head. “This isn’t real. I- I must be sick.”
Finely shuddered as a deep chill crept into the room. The old woman wrapped her arms around herself, but remained focused on James.
“Very well,” she nodded, eyeing Finley. “If that makes you move, then yes, you are sick and should leave for the hospital immediately.”
“Yes, I must be sick if I’m seeing you.” James gave a small hysterical laugh and got to his feet. “Great advice from a dead woman!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, James, “ Finley stepped forward only to find herself pressed to the ground by a massive weight.
James carried on gathering his things paying no heed to either woman. Once he was packed, he left the room without so much as a backwards glance.
An unnatural silence settled over the room in which Finley heard the rasp of her breath in and out of her compressed lungs and nothing else.
“You too were wronged, Finley,” the old woman’s voice was very close to her ear. “But I will avenge the harm you brought to my blood.”