His Lethal Love by Monika Singh (short story to read txt) 📗

“Obviously, you’re not professional.” I scoffed and grabbed a can of beer before taking a swig. 

My eyes moved to Cam, who was dressing his wound like a professional doctor. Her glasses set on her nose as she sucked in a sharp breath at the pain Archie was feeling. Sometimes I could not believe she had just killed my brother in front of my eyes. No matter how many times I tried to erase those pictures, I could not. I could not wipe the images of my screaming brother, his ripped heart, the blood on the floor, and Camille’s violent expression. She looked deadly that day. That version of her put me in such a state that I could not speak for a few minutes. 

Once Camille was done, she stood up and put the first aid kit in the kitchen, and headed to her room. 

“Ouch! Did she just ignore Scott Martinez?” Archie smirked. 

My jaw flexed. Without speaking, I disappeared into my room. Damn! I should have apologized for my behavior at dinnertime, but it was not my fault. Why would I say sorry when it was that fucker's fault? He was the one who was talking dirty about Camille. I would kill him one day even if I had to be sent to jail. I wouldn’t leave him alone as he was brainwashing Camille.

After taking off my t-shirt, I lay on the bed. It was more difficult to fall asleep knowing Camille was alone on the bed a few feet away from my room. I wished she could let me sleep next to her, allowing me to take care of her for a few days. I loved listening to her breathing. I loved her smell. I loved when she curled like a cocoon. I still remember when she slept next to me. 

My eyelids were heavy, and I was about to fall asleep when I heard a faint groan. I quickly got off the bed and walked out of the room, heading straight to Camille’s room. I froze the moment I heard her weep. Without a second thought, I dashed into the room and found her on the bed. 

“Cam,” I called out and approached her. Her eyes were still closed and fine lines appeared on her temples. Sweat gathered on her forehead and neck. She was gripping the sheet tightly, moaning as if she was in pain. 

“Cam.” I removed her sweaty hair from her face and looked at her face. “Cam, open your eyes.” I patted her cheek softly. 

“No!” she cried out agonizingly. Her eyes flew open and landed on me. She was staring at me as if I was her offender. I hated seeing that look in her eyes. 

“Are you alright?” I asked quietly. 

It took her a while to find her voice. “Yeah.” she sat down, looking somewhat embarrassed. “Did I disturb you?” 

“Did I say that?” I frowned. 

“No, I thought…” 

“What was that?” 

She met my eyes, and there was fear in there. She looked even more beautiful without her glasses. Her grey eyes were large and graced with thick eyelashes. 

“I was dreaming about my mother. She was cutting her wrist in front of my eye…” without finishing, she covered her mouth with her hand and burst into tears. “I was missing her.” 

My heart sank when she said that. I quickly wrapped my arms around her small body and pulled her into my chest. She cried harder. “Why did she have to do that, Scott? Why did she leave me all of a sudden?” She buried her face in my chest. I said nothing, allowing her to weep for a while. It might lift some weight from her chest. Somewhere, she blamed herself for the tragedy that happened to her mother. 

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