The madwoman on the hill or the house of terror

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I have known Sandra Sanchez Sol for at least 15 years. She has always been a funny girl, with a thousand stories to tell—usually misadventures instead of adventures. I never understood how she had such bad luck in life. The last I knew of her, she had bought a semi-detached house in the mountains of Girona, 15 minutes from the sea by car. She had told me so much about the place that I decided to visit it one weekend.
The train journey from Madrid to Girona was easy. Just the day before the trip, she called me to tell me that he couldn't pick me up at the train station and that I should take a bus to his lost town, L'Escala. I was a bit annoyed that she changed her plans, but I was the guest. I called her on time to tell her the time to arrive. When I finally got off the bus, she wasn't there. I called her again, and she said she was coming. Bullshit, I'm sure she took the car after receiving my call. After half an hour, we finally met. 
 
We visit the village. Very nice, but I was starving. I told her I would like to invite her to eat in downtown, but she didn't want to. She told me that she was preparing a paella in her villa and that she had spent 17 euros on top quality seafood and that it was half ready. I didn't want to insist, and we went up to his house quite late. It was about 5 o'clock already. On the way, we stopped at a supermarket and bought beers and other drinks. 
Maybe there were a lot of beverages, but his house was lost in the mountains, and there were no shops around.
 
When we arrived at her home, a one-eyed cat was waiting for us at the door of the house. It scared me a bit, but she didn't think anything of it, she told me that usually she fed it and that's why it was there. I already knew her love for animals, but the detail impressed me.
After entering the house, she poured the rice and clams into the paella and waited a few minutes to put it on the plate. I have never eaten a worse paella in my life. The rice was disgusting, and all I could salvage was the squid. She asked me if I didn't like her paella.
- What's wrong, you don't like the paella
- The truth is that it is a bit overcooked, but I eat the squid and whatever I can salvage.
- Well, I like; it's delicious. You probably don't like paprika. It's perfect, with flavour.
 
I didn't want to argue, but I was pretty hungry. After lunch, we went to the beach, and it was one of the few moments I enjoyed during the mini holiday. The sea was very calm and warm, and we stayed there for several hours. She told me more crazy stories and the problems with the neighbours. She had a lawsuit with the upstairs neighbours, who eventually left. And now she had issues with the downstairs neighbour. He made a lot of noise and had a dog that barked a lot. Sandra told me that he wanted to poison the dog to free him from the shitty life he had. At this point, I got a bit angry. I told her that nobody can kill anyone, not even an animal. And I didn't understand how she loved cats so much and was willing to poison a dog. But she kept on with her idea and justified it by saying that she was going to free the dog from the life of misery it had with its neighbour. It sounded a bit Nazi to me. But as always, I preferred not to argue.
We left the subject, and when it started to get dark, we went to the village. I was starving and offered to buy our dinner. But she didn't want to. Her obsession was to eat ice cream after the beach, because she always did. She made me run all over town to find the ice-cream parlour she liked; she couldn't find any other. And she left her money in the car, and I had to pay for the ice cream. This time I got angry and told her clearly that there were two of us and that we had to negotiate what we did, not what she wanted exclusively.
She didn't understand me, she ate her ice cream and then she told me.
- Ok, now let's go wherever you want, but I don't want dinner; the ice cream is enough.
I had hardly eaten all day, and I was thinking of going for a nice dinner. Besides, I wanted to invite her... In the end, I ate a pork loin sandwich, and we went back to her house on the hill.
 
The road was winding and a bit dangerous, in my opinion. She was also driving barefoot and too fast for my taste. I was a bit scared, not too frightened, but a bit scared.
When we arrived, I was expecting to have one of the many beers I had bought—what a disappointment. Sandra had put them in the freezer, and of course, they were frozen. I don't know if she did it on purpose or what. The truth is that I had to drain the can to be able to drink some frozen beer—a disaster.
When I went to sleep, I suggested that I should go to bed on the sofa in the living room and she in her room. But she insisted that I sleep in her room, on a mattress on the floor next to her. I thought it was a bit strange, but I was the guest, and I had to adapt.
The night passed more or less, although I could hardly sleep. I must stress that the house stank of paella, and the first thing I did was to throw the damn food away, but she wanted to put it in a plastic bag for the animals.
After breakfast, we left the house. The one-eyed cat is at the door, as usual. When I got in the car, I noticed that she was leaving the stinking paella in some concrete pipe. I asked her if it was for the cats, and she said no, for other animals. Then I found out what kind of beasts it was for...
 
When Sandra got into the car, she transmuted and started shouting insults at the neighbours because she was performing so much noise. They made some noise at night but not that much. Her anger began to grow, and she went a bit crazy. So much so that I asked her to please not talk to me about her damn neighbours again. She wouldn't calm down and was driving at full speed. We passed the death curve, and I saw three crossroads of unfortunate accident victims. And she was driving at full speed, insulting the neighbours and her dog over and over again. It was crazy, and luckily when we got to the beach, she calmed down. The sea has a beneficial effect on her. And for me too. I forgot all the stress in the car. It was the last good moment of the weekend.
We went for a drink at a beach bar, and there was even a moment of understanding between us. The waiter was very rude and arrogant, and we didn't feel comfortable in the place. I asked for a rum and coke, and he brought me a rum and Spritz. No coke in this selected bar. That was the excuse to leave. We talked for a long time about the waiter and how unpleasant he was. We got together to criticise someone else, so is life.
 
On the way back along the road of death, I was in a good mood, thank goodness, because I remembered the horrible trip in the morning. 
Also was at night and I didn't see the crosses of the dead on the road border.
Everything was going well. This time the beers were cold and not frozen. I personally took care of it before leaving. But when I entered the house, Sandra changed again. She started talking to herself and tidying up the house, moving things from one place to another. I was freaking out, and I remember asking her if she knew she was talking to herself. She replied that her grandmother did it too and that it was a family thing.
It was the last night; I didn't want to argue. After a light dinner, we went out onto the terrace. Everything was quiet. The neighbours downstairs must have gone out as there wasn't a sound, only the poor dog, a Labrador, who was crying because he had been left alone.
The night was spectacular, and the view of their villa in the moonlight was really beautiful. Nothing could break that good moment, but nevertheless, it happened.
The dog was still crying, and I said to her:
- You don't feel sorry for the poor little dog, and you wanted to poison it. You don't regret it.
 
There is one thing I haven't told you about her. Sandra is convinced that the neighbours hear everything she says because the walls are so thin.  I think in psychology, they call it persecutory mania, a case of schizophrenia.
You can't even imagine the chaos that ensued in a second. I saw her eyes widen like a madwoman, and she started screaming.
- What are you talking about? The people downstairs are going to listen to you. You can't even do that to your worst enemy.
- Sandra, there's no one here; it's all quiet.
- How could you do that to me, in my house. I knew you were going to get me into trouble.
 
I could not reason with her, and the situation was degenerating by the minute. If a few hours ago her enemy was the neighbours, now it was me. I felt very bad, mainly because I didn't understand what was going on.
In an attempt to calm things down, I told her that I was tired and that I was going to lie down in the living room. But no, she didn't want to. She told me that she always slept in the living room on the sofa and that I had to sleep in her room, but not in her bed, on the mattress on the floor. I tried to explain to her that I wanted to smoke a cigarette before sleeping and that it was easier on the terrace. My arguments were of no use. Her tone was very aggressive, and I didn't want any trouble. I was afraid she would report me, and I would spend a night in jail. The laws are like that in Spain; if a woman denounces a man, by duty he goes to prison for at least one night.
I didn't argue; I took all my things and went into the room and closed the door. I listened to her talking to herself in the living room. I lit a cigarette at the window and heard her trying to open the door.
- What are you doing Jose, she said
- I'm smoking a cigarette, I told you. That's why I wanted to be in the living room and go out to the terrace.
It wasn't even 3 minutes when she came back in and told me that she was going to burn everything. She picked up something from the floor, some bags, and shouted at me.
- You're getting on my nerves, I'm going to call the police if you carry on like this. I'm fed up with you. You come to my house to make trouble for me.
I didn't say anything; I closed the door and waited for him to fall asleep. The one who couldn't close his eyes was me. I was afraid she'd come back in with the ham knife from the kitchen, or that I'd call the police, and they'd take me to jail in the middle of the night and arrest me. That crazy woman could do anything. I think it was about 4 o'clock in the morning when I heard some very strange noises, like grunting. I thought it was her, that she was possessed by a demon or something. Then I found out it was the wild boars coming to eat the paella she had left in a pipe near the entrance of the chalet.
I don't know how to describe the night of panic I experienced. I had to go out at night to the bathroom, and she was awake.
-What are you doing, Jose? What do you want?
-Nothing, nothing, I have to go to the bathroom; I'm pissing myself. I'm not doing anything; I'm going back to my room.
I couldn't even pee in the crazy woman's house. I thought about running away with my backpack, but it was night, the house was lost in the bush, and everything was surrounded by wild boars that made a hell of a noise.
When morning came I had not been able to sleep at all. I waited on the mattress until I heard noises in the bathroom. She had already woken up. So I went out and said good morning to her. More out of politeness than anything else. She offered me a coffee, but I told her:
- You know, I'd instead prefere if you took me to the station; I'll have a coffee there.
Said and done, we left her house, and the one-eyed cat was at the door as usual. I didn't care about anything anymore; I just wanted to get to the bus station and leave the house on the hill.
The first few minutes in the car were silent. But when we reached the death curve, Sandra exploded again. I think she wanted to attack me before I left.
- You don't do to your worst enemy what you've done to me. How dare you insult me in my own house.
- But what did I say? There was no one there.
- If there was, there was the woman. I put a glass on the floor and listened to her. Now they've found out everything because of you.
I couldn't reason with her, and she kept bringing out all the shit she could play against me. I can barely remember her reproaches: That I was an alcoholic because of all the beers I had bought, that I smoked too much. That I had to go to a psychologist and get myself treated. That I was a jerk and that I would never have any friends. He also told me that I was an anxious eater and that he hated it when I ate off his plate.
- But I didn't eat off your plate.
- Yes, you did one, 7 years ago.
I was shocked. In her head he had it all mixed up.
- I know why you came here. You wanted to seduce me. But I'm worth much more, and you're going to be alone in life; no one can stand you. You're a loser.
I preferred to keep quiet and count the minutes until we arrived at the station. I took my backpack and left. I will never see the crazy woman on the hill again.