three

6

I woke up the next morning to be in the same bed as Camila, but there were a couple of pillows between us that acted as a boundary. I got up from my position and stretched my arms and legs, my actions were followed with a movement by someone on the bed.

"I see that you're up. Still four in the morning, though, too early?" she asked and rested her back on the headboard.

I tapped my feet on the floor 1, 2, 3 times.

"It's okay. I basically wake up early, it's a hobby," I replied as I rubbed my eyes.

An easing smile came to her face-I barely saw it in a normal day. It was rare of her to give in a smile like that, there was always a smirk plastered on her lips most of the time. We looked at each other on silence in the dimly lit room for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 seconds until she decided to cut the trance that was occuring between us.

Then I began to remember again.

The kiss.

The screams.

The dead girl.

The blood.

The whispers.

All of it.

"You look worried," she said, squinting her eyes on me.

What was all that I saw yesterday when I was left all alone with Camila herself? A forgotten memory from a past life, perhaps? But I never suffered from amnesia. I never got in an accident to have amnesia. I never hit my head too hard on the wall to have amnesia. No. No. No. Amnesia. Never had a problem with amnesia. No. No. No.

"I have to go, Camila. I―" I was having a panic attack, I didn't know what to do right now. Should I go back home? Should I stay here with a person who's supposedly deceased?

She immediately got out of her bed and moved over to me, giving me a tight hug with her arms wrapped around my waist. Her warm breath was touching my skin. I froze on my spot and placed my arms around her neck.

"Calm down. I locked all the doors, I turned off all the lights, I turned the faucet off, I just did everything you forgot to do last night, okay? Everything is under control. You should continue your sleep. You're never up unless it's seven in the morning," she whispered. We stayed in the same position for a few moments or so.

I took a deep breath three times.

"1, 2, 3," I counted.

I felt Camila let go and so I did, too. She ran a hand through her hair smoothly and smiled again. That smile. That damn smile. It fooled me last time. Last time. Last time. Last time. Fooled. Fooled. Fooled.

"I'll be here if you need me. I won't leave you. Not again," she reassured me and my sight went black.

I opened my eyelids to be greeted by a blinding, bright light. I lifted my hand to my eyes to not let the rays hit my eyes. I let my arms support me as I sat on the mattress. Did I pass out in the midst of talking to Camila?

I looked around and saw Camila staring at me like she has been watching me sleep. I couldn't decide whether it was creepy or assuring because someone has been guarding me while I was out cold.

"When's my birthday?" she suddenly asked.

Her birthday?

Her birthday?

Her birthday?

I do not know.

"I'm sorry, I have no idea." One.

"I'm sorry, I have no idea." Two.

"I'm sorry, I have no idea." Three.

She forced herself to stand up from the bed as if she was exasperated. She grabbed a chunk of her hair in one hand and I can see her eyes changing to light blue, like her bedroom wallpaper.

I didn't feel a pang of being frightened. It was weird to not have that feeling when she was being like this. I used to be afraid when she was in my prescence. I should have feared her, feared Camila, feared her for who she was. Those eyes-I could never forget those two different colors that her eyes possessed. One held the universe. One was the complete opposite-having void.

"Why?" she asked herself too many times than I could count. I was able to count forty-eight Why's from Camila.

Why what?

It's only a birthday. No big deal, right?

It's only a birthday. No big deal, right?

It's only a birthday. No big deal, right?

I can't say that. I can't say that. I can't say that. It's like saying: 'It's only OCD, no big deal.'

What's the matter with her birthday?

Should I know?

Should I know?

Should I know?

She was screaming now. Camila was screaming out her words. I didn't bother to cover my ears with my hands-the noise was less likely to even meddle with me as a commotion.

What about their neighbors? What would they think of Camila shouting words in this early morning? What if somebody heard her?

She was speaking in a different language, like a native one. Not Spanish. I never heard of this language ever. Maybe she was frustrated because I didn't have the knowledge of her birthday-but wouldn't that be kind of crazy?

The whispers were back again. Every sound from my environment was shut out. Camila's mouth was moving but no sound was coming out of it. Not a word. Not a word. Not a sentence. None. None. None.

Bad things.

They're coming for you, it said.

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