Camila POV
Morning came too quickly, sunlight filtering through the blinds and landing straight in my eyes like nature’s own personal wake–up call. I groaned, throwing an arm over my face to block out the light. Today was the day I was getting out of here. The thought sent a jolt through my chest not quite relief, not quite dread. More like the unsettling mix of both.
I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and glanced around the room. It already looked half–empty, with most of dey stuff packed away in two bags sitting by the door. One small suitcase and a worn backpack that I had stuffed with essentials- clothes, toiletries, and a few books I couldn’t leave behind. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stretched, listening to the faint creak of the floor beneath me.
It was too quiet. Eerily so. Usually, by now, I would hear my mom clattering around downstairs. But today, there was nothing but the soft hum of the morning outside- birds chirping faintly, leaves rustling in the breeze. It should’ve been peaceful, but it just made me feel more on edge.
I stood up, walked over to my dresser, and grabbed a hair tie. Pulling my hair into a messy ponytail, I caught my reflection in the mirror. I looked tired- dark circles under my eyes, a faint crease between my brows from all the frowning 1 had been doing lately.
Perfect look for a dramatic exit.
With a deep breath, I grabbed my bags and started going through my mental checklist. Clothes? Check. Charger? Check, Satisfied that I hadn’t forgotten anything, I slung the backpack over one shoulder and dragged the suitcase toward the door.
I wasn’t heading to Aunt Liana’s place anymore- turns out she wasn’t home when Mom called. So, I had no choice but to settle for Aunt Anya’s. Not exactly my top pick, but beggars can’t be choosers, right? Letting out a sigh, I reached for
the door, only to freeze mid–motion as a sudden knock echoed from the other side.
“Who is it?” I called out, voice steadier than I felt.
No response.
There was no response but honestly, I didn’t need one. I already knew who it was.
Clenching my fists at my sides, I took a moment to calm my trembling hands before gripping the handle of the suitcase and pulling the door open.
And there he was. Ethan.
He stood there, looking almost… hesitant. Which was weird, considering the whole menacing–beast routine he pulled last night. I glared at him, not saying a word, and he opened his mouth as if to speak. But no words came out. He closed his mouth, then opened it again, then shut it once more like he was some broken wind–up doll trying to form a coherent
sentence.
The awkward silence dragged on until I couldn’t take it anymore.
“What the fuck do you want?” I snapped, my voice low but dripping with venom.
His eyes flicked to my suitcase and then back to me. “You don’t have to leave,” he said quietly, almo.. ke he was
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Chapter 49
trying not to provoke me.
My frown deepened, and I moved to step past him, suitcase dragging behind me, but before I could get far, he resched out and grabbed my hand.
“I want to apologiz-”
“Don’t fucking touch me!” I hissed, yanking my hand away and slapping his off me in one swift motion. “Freak!”
His sentence died halfway, and for a moment, the tension between us was so thick I could barely breathe. His face paled, and I could see hurt flash in his eyes.
He let out a humorless chuckle, shoving his hands into his pockets like he was trying to act unfazed, but I wasn’t buying it.
“Fine,” he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing slightly. “Have it your way.”
I didn’t bother responding. I was already halfway down the stairs by the time he finished his little moody–boy routine. My heart was still racing, but I didn’t stop. Not until I was at the bottom, with the front door just a few steps away.
As I reached the door, I paused, taking a deep breath to steady myself.
I can’t let him get to me.
Not when I was so close to getting away from this nightmare of a house.
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