Beacon in the Darkness

1. Fields

 Four months.

Not a long span of time to most people weaving their way through life. Ones whose days continued in the same monotonous rituals they'd held for as long as they could remember. But to Camila Cabello, four months was not just a mere passage of time, an insignificant number by which to measure the days past.

Four months meant change.

Devastation.

Heartbreak.

It meant loss.

And it had been that exact amount of time since Camila had been to the fields. In the days and months prior, she'd come every day with her brother Carlos. She'd sat in the stands and sketched while he practiced shooting and dribbling as it was his goal to make starting forward his senior year. Yet now, that would never happen.

Camila swiped a tear from her cheek as the sun broke over the horizon, bathing the dew-covered grass in pale light. White lines had been recently chalked and shone bright against the emerald sea stretching out before her. The goals were in place—minus the nets—most likely for practice, which should've been starting soon. Part of her wondered why she thought she could handle this, being in this place without him, but another part never felt closer to Carlos than here.

She missed him.

If she closed her eyes and really concentrated, she could still see his vibrant smile and shining pale blond hair.

Shaking her head, she tried to push the thoughts of him aside, but only managed in bringing forth a flood of much more disturbing images and sounds.

The screech of tires against wet pavement pierced her ears, as the loud crunch of metal echoed through her memory. Spider-webbing cracks stretched across the windshield in front of her. Warm fluid trailed from her hairline into her eyes, turning everything in her vision red. Pain throbbed through her head, making it nearly impossible to stay conscious.

But she did and somehow managed to turn, looking for Carlos. He was there, slumped forward in his seat. His head hung and his eyes closed, blood masking his beautiful face. Camila called his name, reached out, and shook his shoulder. But he did not respond. His chest stood perfectly still.

A straggled cry escaped Camila's lips as the memories assaulted her. She leaned over, buried her face in her knees, and wrapped her hands around her legs. Her body shook with grief and painful questions. Why had she insisted on going out that night? It wasn't like she'd needed ice cream right then. The weatherman had warned of the storm all day, warned that it could come up suddenly, but the skies were clear when they left. Surely there would've been at least some sign it was coming, she had told herself.

But there was none.

Not a speck of rain. Not a cloud in the sky—until the thunder rolled and the rain pounded down. In an instant, the dreamy, sun-filled day turned into one of nightmares.