Worth The Shot

Bitter Bite of the Wind

"You're not going anywhere."

"Camilo, I thought I told you," You argued, crossing your arms. "You can't tell me what to do." 

Camilo stubbornly tensed his jaw, still blocking you from the window. His eyes and cheeks were red and splotchy, as if he'd been crying. "It's not safe. You're staying."

"Camilo," you gently asserted. He's just lost his mother. I should be patient with him. "I need you to move." 

"You're gonna get hurt out there. They'll take you, too." 

"Aw, Camilo," You exhaled, hugging into his torso. Camilo's frame softened, but he didn't lower his hands from the window. "That's why I have to go. Bruno's prophecy said that the only way to stop the kidnapper was for me to meet with my father tonight. Alone." 

"Screw that," Camilo growled. "Screw the prophecy."

"Move," You somberly repeated. He needed to take this seriously. "I'm leaving. And you can't do anything about it."

"Oh, I can do something about it," Camilo quietly promised, like a threat. 

"Yeah? Like what?" You hotly exploded, your patience spilling over like molten lava. He has no right to talk to me like this. Why is he being so difficult? 

Camilo narrowed his eyes and didn't respond. His muscles tightened as if preparing to intercept you. "C'mon, (y/n). Don't make me do this." 

"Oh, great," you scoffed sarcastically. "You're gonna physically try to stop me? What if I do this?" You lunged toward the crisp, windy freedom of the open window. It's a long shot, but I can make it.

Camilo reacted like a crouched tiger, seizing your wrists. Breathing roughly as he struggled with you, he pinned them above your head against the wall. His face hovered only inches above yours.

"What, are you gonna hold me here until I give up?" You challenged, your cheeks burning. His green eyes unwaveringly pierced yours. You felt helpless. Violated. You hated it. "Are you for real? Let me go!"

"No. I'm protecting you."

"Protecting me?" You spat. Camilo didn't flinch as your spiteful saliva splattered against his cheek. "Oh, great. Now you sound just like my father. Is that what you wanted?"

"What? No!" Camilo recoiled, his eyes finally lowering with guilt. His grip slackened, and you ripped your hands away. I can't outrun him. But this might work. 

"Casita!" You pleadingly called. "You know I need to go. Help me!"

Casita hesitated, torn between betraying Camilo and rejecting the only prophecy that could save the family it existed to protect. Finally, the floorboards shot up, trapping Camilo behind them. 

"You'd better not walk out of that window, (y/n)!"

"I feel like we keep having this same argument," you angrily digressed, glaring at him with the stinging sharpness of a blade. "You're too rough. Always telling me what to do. You get mad so easily. Well, I'm done!" 

"You don't mean that," Camilo slowly said, his eyes hurt. His hands futilely tugged at his wooden prison. 

"Yes, I do," You glowered, stalking toward the window. "I'm sick of you telling me what I feel. I'm leaving."

"You want to leave? Listen to me! It's too dangerous!" Camilo shouted as you hoisted yourself out the window. "As soon as I get out of this, I'm coming after you."

"Don't you dare follow me, Camilo Madrigal!" You cried with contempt. "In fact, don't ever talk to me again!" 

You plunged into the chilly evening darkness. You didn't turn around, but a stinging silence haunted the evening air. Camilo didn't protest. He didn't even try to change your mind. 

Good. You thought with bleak satisfaction. That's what I wanted. So why does it hurt?