The Sweet Smell of Blood on a Summer Breeze

BlizzardeyeWonder · #1

[Camilla Bell continued from When you hurt me, you hurt yourself]

She had not found Bert before dark. Camilla shouldn't have left- she should have known better than to go after what she wanted. Just stick to the people, stay safe, stay safe, stay safe, what about that was so hard for her to understand?

Of course she understood. But part of her didn't want to obey.

Still, she found shelter under the trees. Leaning against a tree to sleep? She had done that before, yes. It was uncomfortable, but not entirely unfamiliar. And with that, she drifted off.

Camilla had become used to the "flashback" her nightmare dredged up. Wake up in the stables. Meet Max and Lucas. Walk through an island covered in ominous symbols. Meet with Beryl's group. Get shot instead of Beryl.

But this time, after the gunshot sounded and everything went dark, she woke up again, to the rumble of a moving vehicle.

She sat up, in the backseat of a car. The back of Julien's head was visible in the front seat- wait, she didn't think he had- oh, never mind.

"Julien?"

There was silence, for a bit. She wished it stayed that way when she heard what he said.

"Man, you're a fucking idiot."

Her breath caught in her throat. No answer from her.

"You? Get high with a stranger?" he continued. "I don't even know why I'm driving you home."

"I don't know either," Camilla confessed.

Julien radiated irritation, as Camilla stewed in shame. Soon she could see Auntie's house just outside. She got out of the car, and saw it fit to kiss the tip of her finger and place it to Julien's forehead, because that's how normal people say thank you. She was interrupted by an abrupt punch to the face.

"You left me!"

Camilla reeled, holding a hand to her head. Blood dribbled from her nose. She looked up to see the attacker- Bert? She was pretty sure Bert shouldn't be able to reach her nose-

A punch to the gut. She fell to her knees, clutched herself- curled in on herself. As she looked down, blood dripped onto the concrete. "That- that's your prom date?" snarled a voice above her. Her mind told her it was Faith, but surely she'd never truly heard Faith's voice? Maybe from the speeches-

Another strike to the head sent her tumbling sideways, with a cry. Now she lay on the hard concrete of the sidewalk. "Man, what the fuck was I thinking?" A bombastic voice. It couldn't be Ace, could it? "Should've stuck with the Carters!" Could it? They never even-

A scream escaped her mouth connected to a kick to the back of her head. "...pathetic." She didn't know why or how Ivy's voice became etched into her mind, yet it was. Another scream came with a kick to the stomach. "Absolutely worthless. I need to wipe my foot."

"HELP ME!" Camilla wailed.

Another kick. "HELP!" She reached out her hand, only for it to be stomped on, accompanied by the sound of its bones crunching. "SOMEONE! HELP!" Another blow. More and more, till her clothes were stained with blood, every limb ached, and her cries became unintelligible screams. Voices, ones she was sure were familiar, overlapped and tumbled over each other until they became alien, yet each word she did not understand stung. Eventually, her screams quieted into accepting sobbing.

She awoke, gasping for air. Her cheeks were stained with tears. It seemed she'd fallen onto her side while she slept. Camilla lifted herself up, just to make sure she could still move- she could.

It was just a dream, Camilla- deep breaths. Just a nightmare.

Maybe sleeping against a tree wasn't a good idea. She lay down on the ground, and closed her eyes again.

Sunlight danced in the windows, as Camilla turned off the stove. Serene music played from an unknown source, as she added salt and then pepper to the soup- tomato soup. Sometimes, the simplest dishes were the right ones for the job. Surely, they would love it. She knew they would.

Thankfully, they had already set out the table for themselves. Distinguished guests, yet they were kind enough to help their host. Truly, Camilla was lucky to have them. She took the pot of soup, and carried it out of the kitchen.

The hallway was draped in bright colours, squares formed intricate patterns on the carpeted floor, and the striped green wallpaper had paintings of lush flowers and birds across it. Tall glass windows let in sunlight at regular intervals, with the occasional potted plant on the windowsill. Home sweet home.

She reached the dining room. Already seated were her guests- Declyn, Drew, Diego, and Theo smiled as she entered, and she smiled too. How could she not? Gently, she ladled soup into each bowl. The moment she put the ladle back, they immediately began the meal. They ate like pigs. It made Camilla happy to see them happy.

Except Declyn didn't eat. He smiled at Camilla, but gently pushed his bowl away.

Camilla frowned- but it quickly vanished, her smile returning.

She pulled a knife from the folds of her apron, and placed her hand down on the table.

Camilla? Why is the knife hovering over your fingers? Camilla? Why would you want this? Why would anyone want this? Camilla, no. Don't cut off your own fingers.

She didn't listen to that part of her. She brought the knife down.

The fingers in front of Declyn twitched, as blood spurted from them. He still smiled, but shook his head.

He wouldn't eat.

He wouldn't eat.

In an instant, there was a thud as a chair toppled over and Declyn's head hit the wall, Camilla's remaining fingers wrapped around his throat. The others continued their meal in bliss, as blood spurted from Declyn's mouth, dribbled down his chin, and through her enraged tears Camilla could see the fear in his own eyes. At last, he managed to sputter "Why..." before the life left his eyes.

Why?

Camilla jolted awake. Why did she do that? There was something damp and cold on her brow, and in a panic she wiped her hand there- no, it was just sweat. Just breathe, Camilla- she couldn't breathe, not properly.

It was just a dream, yet she couldn't forgive what she did.

Yet...

She somehow found a way to fall asleep again. She was lying just as she was, except on a mattress. It didn't feel any more comfortable. She was in a room that reminded her much of her own back home, except with all its furniture removed save for this one, featureless mattress- so it was a featureless mattress in a featureless white room, with a plain door that she could just barely see.

"Auntie?" she asked, almost instinctively.

Her parents answered in unison. "Disappointing."

Camilla couldn't move her head, or her limbs. She could just stare up at the blank ceiling.

She idly mused "How can I be loved?"

In the corner of her vision, Beryl hovered. The hole in her chest was shaped like a heart.

"The people wait for Prometheus to bring the fire of earthly transcendental pleasures," she said. "Perhaps they see your face in the guard's."

"...huh?"

There was a sound with a filter of a radio over it. "She means sex, Camilla," Henry stated matter-of-factly. "And romance, but you know. Those two things are the same as far as this school's concerned. Well- you can't give either."

Camilla paused, before hesitantly asking- "What about my parents?"

"Do you suppose God does not answer prayers because he is busy playing chess with Lucifer?" Beryl asked, coming closer to the bed, and looking over Camilla. She supposed that meant no in some form.

"...Auntie?" she hoarsely whispered.

"What are you going to do when she dies?" asked Henry.

"I..."

"...At least she probably won't die before you?" Henry awkwardly attempted to backtrack.

Camilla once more felt silent. She stared into Beryl's eyes, until she blinked- and she was gone.

At last, Camilla was able to lift one arm- a chain fell from it, followed by a flower pendant on that chain, and flowing from the flower was a dagger.

She knew exactly what she had to do.

Camilla thrust the dagger into her chest.

Camilla's eyes flew open, her heart beating fast, and the tingling in her chest fading away.

Her eyes remained wide open.

She gave up on trying to sleep that night.

[Camilla Bell continued in Hell is Other People]