Cognitive Deviance

28. Catalina

May 20, 2045 - 3:40 AM

Margo knocked at the door of Carl's apartment, still shivering in her soaked, ice-cold clothes as she waited out in the hallway. She was as pale as a corpse, her arms wrapped around herself in a crude attempt to warm herself up. Her feet ached of frostbite and they felt as if they were lodged in two wet sponges. The only things feeling worse than her feet were her bare legs, which endured the ironic sensation of burning as a result of having to walk through a blizzard in sleepwear.

She briefly opened up her coat to check on her Fatemaker, nudged in a secret pocket in case she had been followed.

The door opened up and Carl peeked his head out. He wore tiny glasses with lens that barely stretched over his eyes, and the LED ring on his finger glowed a bright red. The expression on his face was something Margo had never seen before, at least not while Carl was in control. As if the red light wasn't further proof Catalina was the one welcoming her into the apartment.

"Margo!" Catalina exclaimed in Carl's voice at her characteristic pitch. "¿Que diablos? Why are you dressed like that in weather like this?"

"S-S-Someone broke into my home, Catty," Margo explained quickly. "I had to get out as soon as I could."

"Well, get in here before you freeze. I'll alert the authorities while you go ahead and shower."

Margo walked in, the door shutting behind her. "Thanks a lot, Catty, but it's alright. I'm just cold. Plus, I'm not sure if you have any spare clothes for me."

"Don't worry. I still have plenty of your old clothes from when you used to spend the night when you were younger. And I don't want you getting sick and then getting your mom sick and then me sick!"

Margo chuckled, following Catalina over to the bathroom in her guest bedroom. "It's not like anyone ever gets someone else sick intentionally, y'know," she replied. "And I'm not sure if those old clothes still fit."

"No, I'm pretty sure they still fit. You've been the same height since you graduated high school. No growth whatsoever. However, your butt seems a little bigger—"

"Catty!" Margo yelped before slapping her on the shoulder as they entered the bedroom, the old lady laughing hysterically. "That might've hurt less if that wasn't coming out of Carl's mouth," Margo added, trying not to laugh herself.

"No te creas, mija. If I ever caught Carl saying something like that, I'd kick his ass."

Margo walked into the bathroom but not before turning back to look at Catalina. "So you'd be kicking your own ass then?" she added with a goofy smirk.

Catalina placed her hand on the doorway and stared at her guest, secretly loving her smart-ass attitude and the woman she had watched her grow up to be while hiding all those feelings behind a forced grin. "¡Ándale! Get in the shower!" she hissed.

And the last thing she heard before slamming the bathroom door shut was Margo's adorable laugh, something both of them needed to hear that evening.

* * *

The sight of Catalina at the front door had given Margo some hope after everything that happened that evening, but a part of her still felt cold and alone, almost as if she was still back in her bed with the splint around her arm and her eyes refusing to shut. The feeling of the cold rush of wind blasting through her apartment was replicated through the freezing water crashing against her skin. Much like the incident itself, she was too hesitant to do anything about it.

Fifteen minutes later, she stepped out of the shower, dried herself off, and walked into the guest bedroom. A queen-sized bed sat in the corner of the room beside a window, the ashy snowstorm in perfect view. On the other side of the room was a drawer with multiple pictures of Carl and his family lining the top. They were always portraying the same thing: Carl, his father, his younger sister Melanie, and an empty space where his mother had been trimmed out of the photo. Margo had never met her before, but after the way Carl spoke of her, she hoped she never would.