In which a student of Las Encinas gets challenged by a certain blond.
Netflix's ELITE Season 1.
Guzman Nunier.
WARNING: Toxic relationships, bullying, addictions, blood.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters or plot of ELITE. I just own my charac...
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E X H A U S T E D Laila came home when it was already dark. The darkness, however, felt comforting that evening because it could hide the emotions Laila was having. The more time passed the more Laila realized what she had told Guzman was something she thought she'd never say.
So far, Laila hadn't received anything weird nor threatening, wondering what Guzman was doing that moment. Whether he cared or whether he just laughed it off and went on with his problem-free life. Laila hoped it wasn't the latter because then she would've looked like a complete fool and deep down Laila knew she wanted to change Guzman's perception.
His face continued to linger in her mind, those blue eyes, which were usually cocky and confident, emitting sadness and rage mixed together. Laila knew it was stupid of her to think about Guzman so much, because he was a person she disliked the most alongside Lu, but not even Lucrecia managed to reach deep into her brain.
Laila hoped Guzman would leave her thoughts soon after their project, but something told her that her honesty and somewhat of a breakdown wouldn't be left alone. In what way, Laila didn't know yet.
The Alatorre girl entered the flat she shared with her dad quietly, closing the door just the same to hear loud music blasting through the TV, Frederick downing a glass, which was clearly not filled with water.
Laila smiled dully, realizing he had moved on from beer to whiskey now. Someone was paid, Laila thought to herself and began to head towards her bedroom, noticing Frederick watch her every move.
A little freaked out and unsure of how to react, Laila continued to walk until feeling like she had been too honest that day. Laila stopped, hoping Frederick wasn't in his depressive or angry moods, but when she turned around and saw his glare, it was simply too late to retreat. "Did you get your wage?" Laila questioned calmly, not breaking eye contact from her father, who was drinking as soon as he came back from work.
Frederick scoffed, his eyes lingering on Laila as if she was a spitting spiteful memory of Victoria. Sometimes Laila thought that he would've been less sad if Laila had died and not his wife, because he loved that woman more than anything in the world. Laila was merely a child, and even if she was the last thing left of Victoria, it brought Frederick bad memories. "Why? You need money?" he asked sarcastically, not hiding anger as Laila had to bite down her teeth. She still hadn't kicked anyone and it was becoming unbearable with all of these men in her life.
"No, but our flat's landlord does," she answered as if Frederick had forgotten about his part in this family. Laila waited for her dad to answer before his glum face softened only a speckle, and even then Laila realized he was looking at the hanged picture of Victoria. The music continued to blast too loudly, causing Laila to close her eyes, her mind already too plagued by Guzman for her to have to deal with her father's shenanigans.
