《Of Human Fixation and Violence》
Chapter 1
Camila can¡¯t sweat anymore. Months have passed since her body functioned as a human. Yet, as the Louisiana heat exudes from the cement sidewalks to her, she can almost feel the illusion of sweat against her ice-like skin. They stop in front of a real estate agency office, looking at the sign that reads, ¡°Satsuma Group Realtors¡±.
¡°Are you sure we should go in?¡± Marie breathed out, fanning herself with one hand and the other on her hip.
Small beads of sweat pour down her forehead and if Camila stands still enough and observes her, she can pinpoint the same beads on her neck and tan hands.
¡°Grandma hardly spoke about this woman, and if I¡¯m her only living decedent then¡¡± she shrugs. ¡°We could become rich. Who knows?¡±
Marie stands still for a moment then opens the glass door, enveloping themselves in cool air, and a large line of people, sitting down. When they head to the front office they¡¯re met with a red-faced middle-aged man, whose neck does not appear despite his shirt''s top buttons being gone. He has a bald spot in the middle of his head, while the sides of his head have long silky white hair strands.
¡°Hello, we are here to see Wilburg Jones. We have an appointment,¡± Marie begins with a cheery tone that changes the man''s scowl but not the color of his face. He smiles at her, but when his eyes reach Camilas, she stares until he returns to his computer.
¡°Yes¡his office is down the hall to the left. You will see his name on the wall.¡±
As they walk towards the hall, Camila¡¯s senses set. Her sickness shed a good portion of her humanity, and her senses have heightened for the worse. She can smell the sweat around the building whether sweet like cherry soap or sour like a ripe fruit. She can hear heartbeats, a mixture of thumping-filled rhythms and pauses.
Coffee, the faint smell of candy, laughs, and even the slightest tap of impatient feet reach her ears and nose like the screech of a feral cat. When they reach the office of the agent who called them, they stand by a closed door. Marie¡¯s back hits the wall, oblivious to the soft groans that hit Camila''s ears. Latex, faint squeaking, and fast heartbeats. When Marie¡¯s impatience hits the roof, her knuckles connect to the wooden door.
¡°Can you hear him? Is he in there?¡± She turns to Camila, a perplexed look on her face.
Camila nods, ¡°He was just about to finish.¡±
When Marie¡¯s eyebrow furrows in further confusion, Camila makes a crude gesture causing her cheeks to flush.
There¡¯s a rushed silence then a squeaked, ¡°Give me a moment.¡±
They stand on opposite sides of the door, back against the wall. Camila hears the light scraping of fabric against skin and a loud wet pop. When the door opens, a young woman in a short cheetah print dress comes out fixing her dress, not sparing them a glance. Her skin is flushed, and she smells like sweat and tobacco.
Mr. Jones comes outside, his button-up shirt disheveled with the top buttons in the incorrect order. Jones is tall, with a pudgy stomach and bleach-blonde hair that is slicked back with a few strands touching his forehead. His face is red, and he briefly directs them inside, pointing to a jar of candy. He sits down, the chair slightly creaking, and leans back as his ass reaches the seat.
¡°I spoke with a ¡®Camila¡¯ on the phone¡¡±, his voice trails off looking at them.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
¡°I¡¯m Camila Alonso,¡± she responds in a short and sharp tone.
The man takes a brief minute to inspect her face before Camila removes her sunglasses, her dark-brown eyes looking into his blue eyes. In truth, her look is off-putting. Her black dress covers her from head to toe without an inch of skin on display save for her face. A black beach hat is on her head, covering her scalp from possible spontaneous combustion by the prolonged heat of the summer.
Her animalistic sickness did not fully change her appearance. Her two small beauty marks below her left eye and her tan olive skin are the same. The rest of her humanity is always intact except in the moments when insatiable hunger takes over and all her teeth sharpen, plunging out of her gums. They resemble that of shark teeth and in those few delicious minutes filled with adrenaline and inhumane thirst, her dark brown eyes change into white clouds without pupil or iris, just plain white.
¡°We spoke on the phone about¡my great-grandmother and a house?¡± she questioned.
Jones nods, ¡°Yes. Alma Rodriguez. You¡¯re her last living descendent so her house now belongs to you.¡±
Camila shares a look with Marie until Marie interjects, ¡°Does she not have a son or a child of some sort?¡±
¡°Ah yes¡Oliver. He died about two years ago, so¡ you are still the last descendent.¡±
They nod, and after a moment of awkward pause, he quickly retrieves a computer from his desk behind. When he places it in front of us, pictures of a creepy, run-down mansion made of dark red brick. Camila and Marie examine the pictures, noting the many windows and slanted, odd roof pattern. While Camila gives Marie a light grimace, Marie smiles as if saying ¡®We can make it work.¡¯
¡°Seems kind of far, where is it exactly?¡±
¡°An hour outside of the city¡very secluded.¡±
Marie falls back into the chair, a deep breath leaving her lungs, ¡°Very lovely.¡±
Jones stares as if he is about to pop. ¡°You can take a look today¡In any case, if you do not want it, you can sell it but¡houses this old have a hard time on the market.¡±
¡°We¡¯ll take a look.¡±
Agent Jones smiles at them, closing the laptop and handing them a golden key. ¡°For the house, and here¡¯s the address.¡±
He hands me a piece of paper with a long address written on it, and after we say our goodbyes, Camilla can hear Marie buzzing next to her.
¡°It''s big.¡±
Camila snorts, ¡°You want to leave Grandmama¡¯s house for a bigger house.¡±
They reach the old navy sedan, just as the sun seems to go down. When Camila reaches the hot seat in the back and lets her lungs inhale the scent of cherries, she sighs in pleasure.
¡°It¡¯s silent, has more space, and very secluded,¡± argues Marie putting the car in reverse and heading out of the city.
¡°Marie.¡±
¡°Let¡¯s just take one look.¡±
Marie looks at Camila through the rearview mirror with those wide puppy eyes, and she cracks.
¡°Fine. One look and we¡¯ll see.¡±
As they reach the tall trees, heading out of the bustling city of New Orleans, the sun does not reach them anymore. Camila relaxes, feeling her senses begin to blend in with the serene surroundings. She can smell the soil, the damp scent of animal fur, and the spines of trees. From afar, she could hear a stream, and the hop of rabbit. Nature.
For half of the ride, Camila had turned off her senses letting her humanity consume her. A rather dizzying ability, which takes greater willpower than getting up from the floor after a month of not eating. Her senses did not halt but rather dulled until she focused back on breathing rather than keeping her brain shut off. She felt when the car slowed down, and Marie¡¯s heart began to pace at an abnormal rhythm signaling excitement.
As she begins to rise from the warm seats, Marie looks at her through the rearview mirror, with a perplexed grin, ¡°Is that a house?¡±
Camila¡¯s eyes took in her surroundings ahead of the road, then her ears took in the faint sound of music, then her nose the smell of alcohol and urine. ¡°It¡¯s a club.¡±
Camila grimaces, ¡°A club in the middle of nowhere.¡± It¡¯s the perfect feeding ground for night creatures and the occasional foxes.Camila guesses that they¡¯re about thirty minutes from the city.
¡°A nightclub. This is perfect¡±, grins Marie, her cheeks blooming pink and her brown eyes sparkling as the car soon closed in on the club.
¡°It smells like urine,¡± Camila scowls, scrunching her nose. ¡°How is that perfect?¡±
¡°I have fan-fucking-tastic bartending skills. This house is meant for us.¡±
Despite the disgusting scent surrounding the club, she smiles at Marie''s excitement. Perhaps the location was meant for them, or maybe just Marie alone.
Chapter 2
The house was, to Camila''s surprise, more put-together than the pictures showed. When they arrived, the grass surrounding the house was beautiful, green, and full of life as if nobody bothered to yell or hover over them. Vines circled the fiery red bricks, like a Victorian child all over a clean fruit. The house itself looked like it came out of the Victorian era. Yet, inside the decor was semi-modern, with dark wood flooring, and black stair railings. As they enter the house, Camila and Marie''s lungs fill with dust, erupting a violent cough from Marie.
While death does not have a smell, corpses do. Overripe grape, and sewage water. Camile can¡¯t confidently say how long the lady laid in her sheets before they found her, but she¡¯d guess a week or so.
¡°Old people are so lazy. She should¡¯ve hired a housekeeper.¡±
Camila inspects the shabby wallpaper, watching it move from bright flowers to a dark green that makes the house darker. ¡°The lady was four breaths into death, I doubt she cared about the dust.¡±
They separated into different rooms, peering into the decor, dust, and occasional squeaks of mice. Camila enters the kitchen and is hit with an odd feeling. The kitchen itself looks as if it has traveled through maidens'' hands in the old centuries. A gas stove, large wooden table, half-dark green and white walls, and wooden shelves that hold more old-looking pots and pans than an antique museum. She grimaces until she hears Marie''s quick footsteps galloping towards her.
¡°I¡¯m in the kitchen.¡± She calls out, hearing her voice echo through the shabby wallpaper of the house.
When Marie finds her, she places her hands behind her back. ¡°It¡¯s perfect. I mean, we can peel the crappy wallpaper and get new ones. Even change the furniture a little.¡± Her hands fly around pointing in several directions, and then she stops, looking at Camila with eyes that she can only describe as ¡®pitying¡¯. ¡°I can help you¡with it.¡±
Camila raises a brow, ¡°With what?¡±
¡°Your hunger,¡± her voice lowers. ¡°There are animals around the woods.¡±
Camila scoffs, a hand on her hip. ¡°I¡¯ll settle for pigs'' blood from a butcher shop. Relax.¡±
Camila turns on her heels, ¡°Unbelievable.¡±
Marie whines behind her until Camila feels her warm arms around her waist, ¡°So we can get it right. You¡¯d be the best sister in the world.¡±
Camila shimmies from Marie''s grip, moving outside the house until a grey sky comes into view. Camila pauses, letting her back hit the navy car. She sighs into the air but looks at Marie. ¡°Do you actually like the house?¡±
¡°Yes.¡±
¡°Ok.¡±
A loud squeal, then a hug. Her cold cheeks feel warm then cold again when Marie moves away from her and rushes to the driver''s seat, picking up her phone.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
It takes a week and a half to clean the house, and completely move everything the old house contained. Cleaning the mansion took sweat Marie did not want to shed, and in the end, Camila took on most of the load with her abnormal energy. She tried her best to dust and mop each room. The bathrooms, a total of four, smelled of bleach and every disinfecting bottle she grabbed at the nearest store. By the end of the week, she had cleaned eighty percent of the house, ignoring the two bathrooms downstairs and the dusty old library that held century-old books.
When they began packing for the old house, it felt like they were carrying their lives in tiny trash bags and boxes. Yet, as they settled their items inside the old house, they realized they barely filled space. Between Camila''s tendency to wear the same color, and Marie''s habit of buying and discarding, they could fit their belongings in one walk-in closet. Even the food transported from the old house left the vast pantry empty and depressing.
As grey clouds engulf the sun, and the sky turns into hues of pink and orange, they settle into the cold living room. Their couch is small, black leather, and does not fit the house''s old color scheme.
¡°We have a basement,¡± comments Marie staring into the empty fireplace.
¡°We need a freezer,¡± Camila adds.
Marie turns to Camila. Her expression is neutral but underneath that face, Camila can tell she is thinking about her appetite. ¡°You¡¯re not thinking about¡killing, are you?¡±
Camila shakes her head, hunger rumbling in her stomach. She denied herself the pleasure of food until they settled, only making trips into the city for their belongings or food for Marie.
¡°I kill animals¡not humans. Relax.¡±
In all, even if she were to starve herself, she wouldn¡¯t die. Her body and soul are already in the gates of death, a foot inside yet outside the door. She could lay in bed for days, but she would never die. She had tried it before.
Maries yawns and lays her head on Camila''s lap. The thick jeans separate Marie''s tan face and Camilas cold skin, only letting her feel a soft coolness on her cheek that makes her smile.
¡°You¡¯re not a monster.¡±, murmurs Marie in a soft tone.
Camila stays silent, letting Marie''s words float.
When stars began appearing in the midnight sky, Camila took Marie to her bedroom, pulling soft comforters around her frame until she looked like a newborn child. She stood in the dark for a moment watching as Marie''s chestnut brown curls framed her face, then left for her room.
A wooden bed frame piles on the wall, while a neat bed lays flat on the floor. The wooden frame takes nothing to build, only common sense and instructions, but Camila tries to hold on to a percentage of her past laziness and ignores it. Instead, she let herself fall on the soft bed covered in dark red comforters and bed sheets. She does not sleep but rather slips into a state of consciousness that allows her to stop thinking and remain attentive to her surroundings and Marie''s heartbeat.
She awakes when the clock hits six, and the sky looks pink and orange, but the earth looks black. She showers, then dresses in a long black dress that covers her neck and tan arms. She applies a small amount of sunscreen on her face and heads downstairs keeping an ear on Maries heartbeat. In the kitchen, she makes pancakes with crispy bacon and scrambled eggs. It does not take long before the sun is violently beaming into the wooden floors from the uncovered windows, and Maries is awake.
Breakfast is calm and silent, as Marie eats and Camila sits in a corner shielded from the sun, watching the woods through the window.
¡°I¡¯m going to check if that club needs a bartender, maybe I¡¯ll get lucky,¡± she murmurs over a cold cup of orange juice.
When Camila nods, her ears immediately pick up the soft purr of a car engine, and then two short heartbeats. The faint smell of cigars and alcohol mixed in with the sweet scent of syrup makes her grimace.
¡°We have visitors.¡±
Chapter 3
Camila and Marie wait for a knock, it takes a moment and then a small rap of knuckles hits the wooden door. Camila is the only one who stands up, walking towards the door. When she opens it, she is greeted by two young men in suits with wide smiles.
¡°We are your neighbors¡from Red Soul. The club is about thirty minutes from here,¡± says the man on the left. He¡¯s tall and lean with a buzz cut and deep monolids. Camila can see faint stumbles on his chin and smell motor oil on his dress shirt.
She hums, ¡°Nice to meet you.¡±
Her voice is monotone which causes the man on the right to pause and awkwardly look at his friend. ¡°My name is Jin and our boss, Nico, wants to formally invite you to the Red Soul.¡±
Jin is taller than Buzz cut, and far more muscular. His hair is slicked to the back as if licked by a cow, with the sides shaved off. He reaches inside his pockets and pulls out a white card then hands it to Camila. She takes the card not sparing a glance at it, and instead looks at them. She observes their awkward demeanor, unsure of what to say or do as they shift from foot to foot.
¡°Would you like some pancakes?¡±
They look at each other and slowly nod. Sun smiles, gums showing. ¡°Yes, thank you.¡±
Camila lets them inside, leading them into the kitchen while a silent Marie watches them come in. ¡°Marie, would you like to go to a party?¡±
Marie¡¯s eyes widen, ¡°A party?¡±
As Jin and Sun sit down, Camila turns her back towards them and begins making pancakes, letting them socialize with each other. Camila could hear them, but her senses barely cared about their conversations. They cared more about the whooshing of veins inside their neck, and the sweet yet sour lime-like smell emitted from one of their mouths. Her tongue feels heavy, and her stomach quietly rumbles. She could feel her fangs trying to emerge come her teeth, expanding like vermin in the night.
When Camila whips around, Marie is still talking with the two young guys, leaning into the conversation. She thinks about the offer, and despite her lack of interest in clubs, the thought of human flesh on her tongue makes her reconsider. Camila serves each two pancakes, and they lightly bow with a murmured ¡®thank you¡¯. The young men leave with another bow and thank you. It doesn''t take long before Marie takes a shower and follows them to the club or perhaps to the city. Camila is left alone.
For the rest of the time that Marie was gone, Camila assembled the wooden bedframe, cleaned the first-floor bathrooms, and then headed to the ancient library. On all fours, she brushed the floors until oak wood flooring could be seen, then cleaned the shelves and the spine of each book.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
When she finished, she headed to her room, shuffling empty canvases around until she finally laid them on the wall far away from the sun. In the furthest corner of her room, she assembled a large, wooden easel stand that she eliminated with a tall lamp. Her hands barely touched the box of acrylic paint when she sensed a presence coming towards the house.
A truck, and two people.
She ran downstairs and peeked outside through the large window in the kitchen that pears into the front of the house. A large white truck comes to a halt in front of the house, and a middle-aged man comes into view with a cigarette hanging off his mouth. A second pair of footsteps hit the earth and make their way to the door and soon knuckles rap against it. Camila opens the door and comes to face another middle-aged man, with coffee breath and a bald head.
¡°Ms. Alonso?¡± he asks annoyance dripping off his voice.
She nods, and he guides her to the porch. ¡°Delivery for a chest freezer.¡±
She stands there leaving them to struggle with the freezer and merely watches as they grunt and sweat drips on their black work vests. They take the freezer inside, and she instructs them to leave it in the living room. A ¡®thank you¡¯ and a confirmation signature later when they leave. Just as they are mere minutes away from the house, she moves the freezer herself, a small grunt leaving her lips as she moves towards the basement.
Her eyes take a minute to adjust to the profound darkness. It''s pitch black, with cold lime walls and empty boxes piled in a corner. Once she drops the freezer, she turns it on and heads upstairs. The clock hit six in the afternoon when Marie returned. Camila is instantly greeted by the smell of oil and garlic. Despite being unable to eat food, she still enjoyed the smell of aromatics and fried food.
¡°Brough some Chinese takeout,¡± she yawned, plopping down next to Camila on the black couch, and placing the plastic bags on the wooden coffee table.
¡°Any luck with a job?¡±
Marie sighed, ¡°Every place had shit pay.¡±
They are not starving by any means. Maries intense desire to get a job was due to her shopping fixation, which Camila often supported. Camilla would even argue that they''re in a better position than most people who live together, especially with her sun disorder. Her job is simple, an audio reader for independent writers on a popular website. She worked when she wanted and was often offered a variety of contracts that kept them afloat alongside Marie¡¯s jobs.
Camila''s eyes twitch, ¡°How is the club?¡±
¡°Stripper, bartenders, a hot bouncer,¡± she stops and exaggeratedly bites her lips. ¡°And attractive owners.¡±
The words ¡®owners¡¯ make Camila turn her body to Marie who nods her head while opening various take-out containers. She holds up the number two with her fingers and slurps the stir-fried chow Mein noodles.
¡°Two. Yohan and Nico. The oldest one is something else¡not very friendly,¡± She comments, ¡°but Nico on the other hand.¡±
Camila chuckles at her words, ¡°They''re hiring?¡±
She nods, ¡°Interviewed me on the spot, good thing I was wearing nice clothing.¡±
When the sky was pitch black and cicadas could be heard outside, they showered and dressed. Marie wears a black and white leopard backless dress, with clear heels that make her legs appear longer than they are. While Camila wears a deep V black buckle halter top, with leather trousers, and ballet-like flats.
The drive to Red Soul felt shorter than it should have. The nearing smell of alcohol, piss, cigarette, and sweat made Camila''s skin crawl. Outside the club, people stood around cars or formed small groups and smoked in the darkness. They park next to a black mini-coup, and then engulf themselves in the earth''s cold.
Chapter 4
There is a line outside of the club and a strong-built bouncer who inspects the ID of everyone with a clenched jaw and spread legs. To Camila the club is a box of anxiety, you are inspected like an animal in a zoo, then lunged into a box of loud music and alcohol that clouds your senses.
Marie shows the card Moon had given Camila. He looks at them and grunts in approval letting them inside. When they enter, they are greeted with soft EDM music, and exotic dancers in revealing clothing. To the far left, is a bar with a bartender serving patrons and giving them a show, as he twirls the alcohol bottles and dances for them.
The exotic dancers are on silver pools and circular podiums that glow red. Camila smells the scent of cherry and citrus that mixes with the sweat of their body. Their veins whoosh with force, as they twirl on the pole and do tricks that cause loud cheering.
Camila can only imagine how they taste or how much blood pumps through their veins with each sensual yet quick move. The thought of losing her cool and sinking her teeth in an unexpected neck without the smell of fear is alluring.
Next to Camila, Marie grimaces, ¡°I thought there would be more¡people like a rave.¡±
In an instant Jin appears moving towards them with a wide smile on his face, ¡°You guys made it.¡±
Marie nods, ¡°Yeah.¡±
¡°This is the top level called ¡®Red¡¯. The actual party is at the bottom.¡± He points to his feet. ¡°Underground.¡±
Marie gives Camila a grin, ¡°Take us.¡±
He stops and scratches the back of his neck, ¡°My bosses want to¡to speak with you, first.¡±
Camila raises an eyebrow at his words but nods, ¡°All right.¡±
He smiles and leads them towards the back of the club, through double doors. They take a left down a dim hall and another pair of double doors before reaching a dimly lit office.
The walls are painted a deep charcoal gray, which seems to suck in all the life any outsider may bring. As they enter, they step on a slate-black carpet that muffles the sounds of footsteps and creates an ambiance of quiet intimacy. To Camila''s surprise on her left, a wall of shelves full of books stand, that range in every color and thickness. The four walls are white, and in the corner where an office table stands with a computer, a painting of a white bird on top of a turtle looks at them. Her heart pulses, and she can feel vile rushing up her throat when she feels the familiarity of the painting.
She stops when they¡¯re greeted by a young man, and Marie immediately greets him with a wide smile. The man is tall, and well-built, with deep almond eyes and thin, spaced-out bangs that tease a glimpse of his forehead. He gives Camila a crooked smile, with teeth and extends his hand. Camila catches a glimpse of a dragon tattoo on his upper bicep neatly hidden by the short-sleeved t-shirt.
She hesitates but gives him a handshake knowing the words that will leave his lips before he can conjure them. He blinks rapidly, when feeling her skin, then retracts his hand back, moving to rub his hands together as if creating a fire between his palms.
¡°Tonight seems colder than most days,¡± He says, humor laced in his words, ¡°I¡¯m Nico.¡±
¡°Camila,¡± she responds with a thin-lipped smile.
He gestures them to a sleek black leather couch and sits on the loveseat close to the end that Marie takes on the couch. Camila observes the way he looks at her, and how his heart quickens when she smiles and maintains eye contact with him.
Nico turns his attention to Camila, ¡°We invited you as a formal welcome.¡±
Camila lets her back hit the couch, ¡°We?¡±
¡°Yes¡Yohan,¡± He stops, and the doors swing open. Camila and Marie turn their attention to the door and see the presumed ¡®Yohan.¡¯ When Camila lays her eyes on him, the smell of citrus and pinewood invades her senses. The smell is so pungent as if she is standing in front of him with her nose outlining his neck.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
She does not pay attention to Nico introducing her and Marie to Yohan, only sitting up when Nico and Marie do. Instead, she focuses on his skin and how soft yet rough it looks. Her fingertips begin to tingle, and when he walks to them with a flat expression and extends his hand to her, her knees buckle. He does not comment on the coldness of her skin, but his heart quickens, and his lips slightly parted.
Camila revels in the warmth of his skin, and the correction of her predicting that his skin would feel rough against hers. The sudden urge to lick his neck and his fingers from the proximal to the distal phalanx makes her panic, and quickly retract her hand. They sit down and she drinks in his appearance. Yohan is more muscular than Nico, and taller too. His hair is cut in an ¡®asymmetrical fringe¡¯, which Camila notes due to a curious dive on male haircuts. His cheekbones are sharp, his nose is straight as his eyebrows and his eyes are deep almond monolids.
¡°I¡¯m surprised that the old house has new owners. The old lady left?¡± asks Yohan.
Warmth begins pooling at the pit of Camila''s stomach. His voice is husky with a velvety texture that feels exactly like the warmth of a blanket on her cold skin. She tries her best to keep her voice from breaking, fearing that a groan would escape her lips from how delicious Yohan''s voice felt in her ears.
¡°She died.¡±
Her sudden reply makes Marie and Nico cough in surprise. Yohan slowly nods with raised eyebrows, ¡°Our condolences.¡±
Marie perks up at his reply, ¡°Thank you.¡±
¡°As a welcome and our¡condolence for her death, everything you order is on the house,¡± exclaims Nico, a nervous smile following his offer.
Marie thanks him and she nudges Camila''s ribcage until she turns Nico.
¡°Well then¡I want a drink. Thank you for your hospitality¡±, she says with a controlled smile.
When they stand up, the brothers follow. Marie moves away from Camila heading to the door, and as Camila moves to follow, she is stopped by Yohan¡¯s sudden extension of his hand.
Camila takes his hand again, letting her body feel the warmth of a live body. He shakes it but does not pull back his hand and merely looks at her with a tilted head. His lips curl, and in a panic, Camila takes her hand back and quickly runs out of the office, not sparing a second glance at his face. As she walks with Nico and Marie, she can hear his heartbeat, exceeding that of a normal heartbeat and that is enough for her.
Nico leads them downstairs until they reach a door, and the music in Camila''s ears changes. It¡¯s rather violently loud, like the repeating thump of a hand against a door. He opens it and they meet with bodies mingling together, pushing, and pulling the crowd in the rhythm of the music. Strobe lights cover the place, flashing an array of colors toward the floor and then back to the ceiling. Along the walls are round tables with stools, and servers in revealing clothing with glowing trays filled with bottles.
Nico leads them to a round table filled with unopened drinks and empty glasses. They¡¯re not far from the waving crowd, but have a good view of people dancing, and grinding on each other.
¡°Best view in the house,¡± loudly remarks Nico.
He shares a look with Marie and gives Camila a friendly smile before disappearing into the crowd. Marie turns to Camila.
Her tone is normal, she does not shout. ¡°I should have asked him for a dance. Fuck.¡±
Camila rolls her eyes, subtle excitement in her voice, ¡°Go find yourself another target.¡±
It doesn''t take long before Marie loses herself in the loud music, and Camila spots a young man leaving the club. Camila waits, hunger pulsing inside her veins. She counts the minutes, then stops and follows. When her flats step on dirt, she begins smelling relief and a hint of dread. She walks along the petroleum road until her ears pick up footsteps and the crunch of leaves. Camila makes her way inside the woods, feet slightly elevated from the ground to avoid leaves and thin sticks. The thick tall trees shade her from the clubs'' view, and she soon spots the young man with his back against her.
Dread and piss are all she smells.
Camila stays still watching the young man shake his leg and close his zipper. He walks towards the club, and relief spreads on Camila''s ribcage. She had sworn off human blood, arguing that if she resisted enough she¡¯d shed whatever sickness had taken her body. Camila only comes down when she spots a lily-white rabbit hopping towards the light illuminated by the club. She floats above it, sharp teeth slowly contracting from her gums then she drops on it, catching it between her hands.
The rabbit makes a panicked sound, and then her fangs rapidly penetrate the fur skin. There¡¯s a small crunch in the darkness followed by the sound of a bone snapping. When her teeth fully sink in, she begins tasting chocolate. The blood is rich, with a sweet taste. Camila sinks her thumbs inside the rabbit, ripping its skin apart until it¡¯s open wide enough that she sees liver, pancreas, and stomach. Wet squelch echoes around her as she bites into the rabbit''s liver tasting smoke and pork with a small bitter aftertaste. Meat clashes with her teeth, and a surge of energy burns in her veins.
Camila briefly stops eating the rabbit, cradling it in her arms like a newborn baby. She thinks about Marie, and how terrifying this would look in her eyes. To live under the same roof as a predator. Her tongue trails its furry cheek, wetting its hair then licks at the flesh of its eyes until she tucks her tongue between the flesh and eye socket, tearing it out.
Chapter 5
A week has passed since Camila''s kill. It rained that night, discarding all her footsteps and letting the earth drown the rabbit''s blood. When she arrived home, she placed the rabbit in the freezer hoping that Marie¡¯s fear of dark places would rid her of any curiosity about the place. As she lays on the leather couch, its body freezes in the basement waiting for her stomach to rumble. Marie is beside her, hugging her legs, while a black-and-white film plays.
¡°Do you ever feel guilty about...it?¡± Marie murmurs in a soft tone.
Camila cocks her head in Marie''s direction, ¡°About what?¡±
¡°Wanting to kill a person?¡± Marie does not look at her and lets her chin fall on her knees.
Camila turns about from her, unable to reply to her. She had felt guilty about her first kill, horrified even, despite it not being her fault. She had woken up in the middle of the woods after a party, with two circular puncture wounds on her collarbone, and an unreliable hunger for meat and blood. There was no energy inside her body so she crawled to the road until a poor middle-aged woman stopped her trunk and tried to help her.
She hasn¡¯t killed a human since then, only turning to nearby animals like some sleazy serial killer gaining the confidence to kill a human. Yet, the insatiable lust for blood and human skin still lurk under her gums. She isn¡¯t innocent or a creature that deserves to live, that she is aware of. If she were to die, whether killed by her own hands or her sisters, she¡¯d accept her fate.
¡°Someone¡¯s here,¡± Camila murmurs with a sigh, catching the soft footsteps of a guest on their wooden porch.
¡°Who?¡±
She takes a deep breath and smells spice mixed with tobacco and wood. ¡°Nico¡from the club.¡±
When Camila''s words roll off her tongue, Marie lunges from the couch to the door, opening it before Nico¡¯s knuckle hits their door. She greets him with a wide smile, and a hand on her hip. ¡°Hi.¡±
Camila turns off her hearing, giving them some sort of privacy that she''s sure Marie wants. They enter the living room and Marie leaves, dashing upstairs with the widest grin.
¡°Hey Nico,¡± Camila calls out from the couch and receives a smile from Nico, who sits on the sofa and nudges her shoulder.
¡°Hey. Any plans for today, apart from¡¡±, his voice trails off as he looks around the living room, ¡°rotting in this...house.¡±
Camila snorts at his comment, ¡°I enjoy rotting on this sofa. It is comforting.¡±
He chuckles at her comment, watching as Marie comes down, she¡¯s wearing a flowy olive-green dress that reaches her ankles and green kitten heels with a pink butterfly on the front. Nico''s heart stutters for a second when he sees her. She looks at Camilla, who gives her a nod of approval.
She reaches the sofa and laces her arms with his, pulling him off the couch, ¡°I¡¯ll be late tonight.¡±
Camila stayed still, staring at the TV for a long time until the sun dimmed enough that the sky was grey with angry clouds. She considered staying inside, unmoving until Marie arrived home, but when the TV turned off and she saw her sad reflection, she grimaced. She looked pathetic. She quickly changed into a long black dress with small red flower patterns, and black combat boots. Her long black hair flows freely in the wind, as she drives inside the city, arriving at the small garden dubbed the ¡°The Vista Arboretum.¡±
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
The garden feels dead, with an empty parking lot and a nonexistent line. Camila wanders inside, drifting to the furthest part of the garden which shows a variety of colorful plants, within and out of reach. The garden lights make the small ponds in the garden appear darker than they were yet make the small lily pads seem more beautiful than before. She looms over the pond, inspecting it with her vision to see if she can make out small tadpoles, or frogs to leap on it.
The hair behind her neck begins to stand during her curious pond inspection. She feels eyes peering into the back of her neck, examining her back. She sniffs the air, trying to dissect the different scents looming around her. Yet, she only smells the sweet scent of pollen and citrus. She bites her curiosity and whips her head around inspecting her surroundings. Camilla stops when she meets a pair of brown eyes.
Yohan.
Neither moves, but she suspects he is inspecting her as if trying to assess whether she''s truly Camila or if the night is playing tricks on his vision. He takes a step, and she stays still. When Yohan registers that the woman in front of him is truly Camila, a smile breaks out on his face. He strides towards her, with his hands inside his pocket. She observes him, her gums itching at the sight of his neck. Yohan is wearing loose black trousers, a tight black wool shirt, and a long wool coat that reaches his ankles.
¡°Camila.¡±
The comment catches her off-guard enough that she takes a step back, her foot almost landing inside the pond.
Camila.
He simply said her name, but his voice was low enough that her stomach began to boil.
¡°Yohan,¡± She responds as he appears in front of her, mere inches away from her. The sound of his name on her lips feels rather intimate but she pushes those thoughts away and greets him as if he was just any other person.
Yohan stands still in front of her, his wool coat moving along with the wind, ¡°What are you doing here?¡± he asks, taking in her appearance.
She considers her words, thinking of a variety of lies and reasons. ¡°The gallery.¡±
Her idiotic answer makes her eye twitch, but she calms down when she hears a chuckle from Yohan. It is not a patronizing laugh, but rather an amused one. He points to the white building that looks grey in the night. ¡°Have seen the new exhibition?¡¯
She smiles at him, ¡°No. I always leave it till the end.¡±
He hums, ¡°Like a reward?¡±
She rapidly nods and walks to his side, cold heart thumping hastily. Yohan catches her action and turns then begins walking along her side with his hands behind his back. The night is silent, save for the cicadas, and the quiet footsteps of those who pass them which become less and less as they walk towards the poisonous arrays of plants.
¡°This museum is one of the fourth oldest museums with the rarest plants found in New Orleans,¡± utters Yohan.
The random fact catches Camila off-guard who looks at him and laughs. The laugh comes from deep inside her stomach, one that she hasn¡¯t felt in months. Yohan¡¯s eyebrows rise, and she¡¯s sure that he¡¯s questioning whether Camila is laughing at him or about the fact that he uttered without a thought. Yet, a small glint passes through Yohan¡¯s eyes and his lips curl at her laugh.
¡°That is such a random thing to know,¡± She replies with a sigh, a wide smile still on her lips. ¡°Do you have any else that you¡¯d like to share?¡±
Upon her question, Yohan begins spewing facts and names that she stores in her head, simply nodding while she watches his hands flap and turn. Yohan falls into a rhythm nodding from one plant to another. ¡°You sound like a botanist,¡± Camila states.
Yohan¡¯s jaw clenches and she notices his heart skip a beat, ¡°It¡¯s a¡hobby. My mother was the real botanist.¡±
Camila stays quiet, unsure of what to say until he speaks for both, a light smile on his face but when she listens closely to his heart, she notes worry and anxiety. She stops, looking into Yohan¡¯s eyes just watching him, as he watches her with a perplexed expression.
¡°My mother used to collect paintings. She¡used to place them in our dining room. She never painted, just collected. All of them were of birds, like the one in your office.¡±
She can hear his heartbeat rapidly, but he smells of calmness. No more anxiety, just relief. His eyes are soft as if understanding her careful words. Camila falls next to him, and they begin walking in silence. A secret silently exchanged in front of the small white poppies that flow with the wind.
Chapter 6
Fixation
That is the only word that crosses Camila¡¯s mind, as she wanders around the empty gallery while Yohan flows around on the opposite side. They¡¯re not alone but it almost feels like it. With them is a middle-aged woman looking at Michelangelo¡¯s ¡®The Death of The Virgin¡¯ painting which depicts the Virgin Mary as a real woman surrounded by weeping men. The woman wears a long olive cardigan around her neck, a black blouse, and cream-colored trousers. She inspects the painting, until her head drops, and she walks away from the painting, heading towards the clear double doors.
A chill runs down Camila¡¯s spine when she turns. She watches Yohan¡¯s back, with his delicate yet rough hands behind his back. She slowly walks to him, trying to envision the outline of his back through the thick black wool jacket. She¡¯s two feet away from him. Her fingers only reach the air, never him or his coat.
Camila can¡¯t tell if he feels her behind him, but if he does, he makes no attempts to move. She convinces herself that he can¡¯t feel her skin¡¯s coldness or her body¡¯s closeness to him. She lets her fingers pretend they¡¯re gracing his muscles, making patterns along imaginary skin, muscles, and bones. When she feels him stiffen, she takes a step back creating a larger gap between them.
¡°The Kiss¡±, she says out loud. Yohan turns and she points to the painting he was staring at. ¡°They say that it¡¯s the most intense and vivid depiction of a kiss in Western art history. They¡¯re unrecognizable because Francesco Hayez, the painter, wanted the kiss to be the center of attention.¡±
Staring at the painting of a woman leaning back, as a man extends his left leg on a step of stairs, made Camila¡¯s cheek flush. Yohan turns his body to her, taking a few steps until he¡¯s next to her staring at the painting like he¡¯s trying to look at what she¡¯s staring at. When she looks back at him, he¡¯s smiling. His Lips curled at the end and his cheeks are slightly flushed. She stares at his cheeks, her tongue darting out to her lips and all she thinks about pressing her lips to his red cheeks and biting them.
¡°I¡¯m assuming you can tell me the history of all the paintings here,¡± he says softly as if only wanting her ears to hear his words. Yohan looks down at her while Camila is looking up at him.
¡°I can.¡±
She turns on her heels, pointing to a painting of two lovers wandering through the snow, in thick clothing while sharing an umbrella, ¡°Lovers walking in the snow, seventeenth century. It¡¯s believed that Suzuki Harunobo, the painter, wanted to imply a michiyuki or route to a romantic suicide.¡±
Yohan follows at her heels attentively, listening to her words and inspecting the paintings. He takes in every sentence and facts collecting them in the deepest parts of his brain. Camila continues spewing facts about paintings followed by names and dates. She explains every detail behind the painting with the painter¡¯s hidden intention and her own opinion. Yohan keeps quiet, often observing her face and seeing specks of white in her eyes, twinkling with excitement. When she stops dumping information on him, she¡¯s red with a wide smile, ¡°Sorry.¡±
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
He shakes his head, ¡°You have nothing to apologize for.¡±
They stand close to each other, unmoving. Time feels like another painting that stands still on the walls around them. ¡°The first painting I fell in love with was ¡®Death and the Maiden¡¯. I thought it was refreshing to see death painted as a human.¡±
¡°Marianne Stokes. Seventeenth century¡±, Yohan¡¯s tone of voice matches Camilas, soft with reminiscence laced in each word.
Camila hums. She stands still next to Yohan until her stomach starts to softly rumble in the peaceful quiet. She clears her throat and turns to Yohan, hands on her back.
¡°It¡¯s been very nice seeing you,¡± she says, her tone stiffer than she intended. Yohan turns, and smiles, shedding off his coat. He opens it wide as if waiting for her to step into it. Camila stiffens, and she can only imagine how red her face is and how wide her eyes are. Yohan inspects her face, catching on to her embarrassment and hesitance.
¡°Likewise. It¡¯s a cold night,¡± Yohan replies, circling her until he¡¯s behind her and she can smell pinewood, jasmine, and an odd scent of gunpowder. ¡°Just as a precaution,¡±
Her voice is soft, ¡°Thank you.¡±
Camila slides her arms inside the coat, letting Yohan¡¯s fingers grace her shoulder blades, then her neck when he moves in front of her, making sure the coat is snuggling her enough that coldness can touch her skin. Her gums tingle, and she can feel them open and widen, teeth slowly contracting. Their sharpness touches her lips gum, and bottom teeth.
She notes that he does not say anything about the coldness of her body, but she can hear his heart patter violently, thumping against his ribcage like a caged animal. A thrill runs through her veins at the small insinuation that the mere closeness of her to him has made his heart wild.
¡°Have a good night, Camila¡±, his voice is soft and warm like honey.
She¡¯s aware that if she were to open her mouth, Yohan would only see sharp predatory teeth, so she settles on a shy smile and nods. She walks away from him, hugging the coat and when she¡¯s outside of the cream building, she engulfs her nose onto the coat, a wet gasp slipping out of her lips.
The door of the small black Honda opens, then closes as Camila slips her body inside. She doesn¡¯t turn it on yet but rather takes off the wool coat and spends her time nosing at it from the outside to the inside. Her stomach runs hot, scalding even and when she runs her hand down her chest, her head falls backward. She grabs her chest, palms roughly pressing onto the brown bud under her dress. The coat is tight on her face, muffling her soft gasping whimpers.
Fingers, hands, pine, wool, and jasmine. She repeats Yohan¡¯s name like a mantra and only pauses scared that if she calls his name too loud, he might appear at her window catching her in such a promiscuous position. She stops at the thought, letting Yohan¡¯s coat fall on her lap. Camila sniffles softly and drives away from the museum. She doesn¡¯t stop when Yohan¡¯s reflection is in the rearview mirror, instead, she drives faster. She shudders, the scent of Yohan still circling her nostrils, injecting themselves into her brain.
She arrives home, parking the note but not feeling Marie inside the house. She rushes inside the house, soaring up the stairs until she reaches her door. When Camila is inside, she lays the coat on the bed as if displaying it for a picture. She sinks on her knees and prays. Not for forgiveness or the nature of the monstrosity of her being. But for a touch or pinch of pain to be inflicted on her by Yohan. Camila slept that night with the coat neatly displayed next to her. Undisturbed by her movement, the coat laid all night, with a scent of sweat, wood, and lust.
Chapter 7
Five days have passed since Camilla encountered Yohan. The coat laid every day of those weeks on her bed, only disturbed by the hour of midnight, when she''d place her nose on it and inhale. Shame rumbled in her stomach when Jin and Sun would show up for breakfast, smelling of Yohan. There were times when Marie would come home from work, and with a single whiff, she could smell his scent underneath the stench of alcohol, cigars, and sweat. Jealousy bubbled in her intestines, as she thought about how close Yohan must have been for his scent to latch onto her.
She felt utterly stupid.
With the hot season still in session, the sun beamed upon every inch of land, and unshaded space on the earth. Even standing close to the kitchen window made her feel slight jolts of pain. Her usual errands of art materials and food were left off until the sun wouldn''t burn her skin off and even then, she''d dress as if she were a woman from the 15th century. No skin in sight.
When the sun lowered onto the earth, the sky changed to splashes of pink and purple. In the kitchen, Camila''s ears pick up the light stutter of Marie''s heartbeat just as she enters the vicinity of their home. Marie comes in with a sigh of relief, slapping her work bag on the small wooden table. Marie blends into the serene silence in the house. She does not speak for a minute, but her nails softly tap on the wooden table. Her heart thumps violently until Camila turns to face her with a perplexed expression.
"What?"
Marie runs a hand through her brown curls, leaning back onto the wooden seat, "Yohan and Nico invited us to dinner...at their house tomorrow."
Camila''s knees buckle at Marie''s words, panic setting into her loins. "Oh."
Silence settles again. Camila can hear Marie bite the inside of her cheek. "We should go."
The words come out Camilas mouth with such uncertainty that it almost sounds like a question. She shifts from foot-to-foot thinking of Yohan''s coat in her bed. She''s aware of the implication that this invitation poses and her shoulders slump. She needs to return the coat. Perhaps the dinner invitation was Yohan''s way of asking her to politely give his coat back, despite her never asking for it. Or this was his way of saying that she could keep it.
She shifts out of her thoughts when Marie smiles, "All right. Yeah, we should."
Despite Marie''s attempt to sound cool and indifferent, she knows that deep inside she was practically screaming in glee. Her liking for Nico was evident. Too evident. She leaves the kitchen, allowing Camila to sit down on the wooden chair, and places her forehead on the table with a deep sigh.
She is to face Yohan and act as if she did not touch every crevice of her body to the scent of him. She''s to lie and say that she "forgot" his coat and would take it to the club the next day. She''s to act normally and keep her hunger at bay despite his scent lingering on her nostrils, carving itself into her memories. Camila walks out of the kitchen, ears listening to Marie''s squeals. Her shoulders are down, her face unreadable. Camila walks into her room, the black wool coat on her bed and without question she runs her fingers on it, smiling while shame boils in the deepest pits of her stomach.
The next day flowed into the earth while Camila lay in bed until the sun soon lowered itself away from the earth, painting the sky black with clouds of bright stars. The night is cold, with cicadas and frogs screaming. Camila does not ask Marie about the invitation, or what time they''re supposed to leave or get ready. Instead, she lays on her bed until the shower head starts to run. She had laid on her bed a pair of long black trousers, a black sleeveless turtleneck top, and black ballerina flats. Before laying on her bed, she had internally fought with herself trying to find the best pants and top that complemented all her features.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
Now she looks at the clothing she has laid out and considers exchanging for a long black dress or adding some colors to seem different or perhaps more interesting. Camila slides to the cold wooden floor, lying her skin on it. The floor is cold, and smells of Clorox as does the rest of the house. She had frantically cleaned every inch of the house, over and over again. She lays unmoving, limbs asleep until the shower stops, and she can hear Marie''s footsteps.
She takes a shower, as Marie dresses and soon they''re both downstairs heels clicking impatiently on the wooden floor. Marie looks excited with a pink flowy dress that hugs her waist, while her curls are down. They step out of the house, get into the car, and drive to Nico and Yohan''s. Camila leans against the seat, staring out into the dark woods.
"What is it with you and Nico?"
Marie turns her head, "What?"
Camila bites the inside of her cheek, turning her head to the window and watching as dark green trees pass violently, "Are you serious about Nico?"
"I am."
They fall into silence again. Camila thinks about her next words, trying to piece them together inside her head. She wants to understand her fixation and dig into the knuckles of her desire. Death isn''t the end goal with Yohan. She doesn''t want to kill him but rather open his chest and dig into his ribcage until she finds every piece of his childhood, desires, past, and future. She wants to do it while he''s alive, and his silky voice is telling her everything that she''s pulling out of his chest, in detail.
"How do you know?"
Marie shrugs, taking one hand off the steering wheel to scratch her head, then places it back. She takes a deep breath, then grinds her teeth against each other. "I just...get this feeling when I''m with him like...I need to be close to him or talk to him...And he''s funny, spoils me, and sees a future...with me."
Camila lets out a throaty laugh at Marie''s words, who begins to laugh along with her, "He spoils you?"
Marie frantically nods, "Yes, he does. You know the yellow vintage dress that I had wanted for our graduation that I cried for because it was sold out?"
Camila nods then grimace as the memories resurface, "Yeah, it was the first time I saw you vomit."
"I had told him about it, and a week later...he brought the dress to me in that exact color and many more."
They laugh at Marie''s words, but Camila thinks back to Yohan. Camila cares not for jewelry or pricy clothing. If Yohan wanted to spoil her, she''d want him bare. Vulnerable in all aspects. Physically and emotionally.
Camila loses focus as they drive to the house. She stares out to the window again, watching the trees again, watching as they disappear into buildings, light poles, and shadows outline bodies. They take turns left and right, into what Marie commented to be a "cookie-cut community". Houses surrounded them left and right, all white or cream colored with the same modern design and clean front yard.
When Marie finally stops, they come face to face with a white house surrounded by three cars in different colors. Yellow lights shine through the windows, and she smells oil, beer, and garlic. She focuses hard enough and hears light jazz music, and the light gruff in Nico''s voice, followed by Jin and Sun. Camila follows behind, her body buzzing out of its skin when Marie''s knuckles rasp on the door. She hears footsteps then the door opens, revealing a red-faced Jin. He cheers attacking them with hugs and pulling them inside the house. "They''re here."
The house is a surprise to Camila, given the stereotype of how men are revoltingly unorganized when living with each other. However, rather than finding disarray, Camila found the house to be rather warm and cozy. At the entrance, on the left is a dark wooden table with a black statue of a cat, and a crystal tray filled with keychains. On top of the table, on the wall is a black mirror that stares back at Camila with her own reflection.
Nico comes rushing to us, more towards Marie whom he hugs, arms circling her waist. She watches with a tilted head as he pushes his nose into Marie''s neck. She ignores them but finds solace in the excited rhythm of Marie''s heart. Camila rushes a "hi" to Nico and moves towards Sun, who quickly hugs her. She stays still for a couple of minutes then returns the gesture, her arms finding their way around Sun''s waist then she drops them.
When he pulls back, alcohol drifts into Camila''s nose as he speaks, his voice is low just above a whisper. "Yohan is in the kitchen."