Page 112 of Explosive Prejudice

Camilo walked back to the door with the car keys in his hands. Nerves struck me, and my stomach turned with the fear of him leaving.

“Where are you going?” My voice was tinged with fear. We hadn’t even been here for one minute, and he was already leaving. Did he change his mind? Did he finally realize I was too much work?

He didn’t answer me before walking out of the door and closing it behind him.

Being left alone by Camilo scared me to death, and the need to obliterate my mind to take away my growing anxiety grew. Coke would’ve been nice, maybe morphine. Anything to keep me from hurting. My chest felt tight to the point breathing was hard, and the walls began to close in on me.

Go back to him.

Like a trained pet, my first instinct was to return to my dad. No matter how hellish life with him was, it was consistent. He’d never leave me, and that thought was somehow comforting. It was toxic, but I couldn’t help it. I hated that despite everything he did to me, I couldn’t escape him. Maybe I didn’t want to escape him because deep down, I knew I deserved everything he did to me.

From beating the shit out of me to—no. I cut that line of thought because no one deserved that. Right? No one deserves to be, to be what? Tears welled in my eyes because I wasn’t able to admit the extent of his monstrosity. Because admitting it would make me a victim, and I refused to be that.

After forty minutes, Camilo still hadn’t returned, and I decided to take a shower and then leave. I didn’t know where I’d go, but I’d figure something out. If Camilo didn’t return, then he made the right fucking decision. If he did return, I’d decide for him. He’d been through enough in his life, and adding me to the equation would only create a bigger tragedy. I ruined everyone who ever got close to me, and Camilo would be no different.

Midway through my shower, the door to the bathroom burst open and Camilo walked in, a furious expression on his face.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he shouted while holding plastic bags.

So he went out to buy us supplies.

“You can’t get your bandage wet,” he said.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll fix them before I go,” I told him over my shoulder, then returned to washing my hair with the all-in-one body soap this place offered.

“Go? Go where?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Closing my eyes, I tilted my head back and allowed the hot steam to wash away the soap when the shower door slid open and Camilo stepped into the small stall, fully clothed, and grabbed my arms.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he hissed as the water soaked his hair, clothes, and skin.

I wanted to tell him that he was better off without me, but it was his bloodshot eyes, holding so much pain, that stopped me.

“Were you planning to leave me?” His voice was still angry, but I could sense the hurt in it.

Oh God.

I had been so focused on my own pain that I had completely dismissed his. And now, when this man was holding on to me for dear life with an expression I knew all too well, I realized how stupid I was to think I could leave.

How could I ever leave him?

“I scared you, didn’t I,” he said in a low breath, breaking another piece of my heart. Leaning forward, he buried his head in my shoulder while sliding his hands around my naked body, not how he usually did with tenderness but with fear and hesitation. “Don’t leave me.”

Like an oak tree, always so tall, suddenly shifting in the wind, that was how holding Camilo was. The indestructible man who never flinched suddenly broke apart with the fear of being left alone, and it was heartbreaking.

I moved my arms from my sides and placed one on the back of his head, slipping the other underneath his soaked shirt.

“I’m not going anywhere.” I ran my fingers along his spine, down to his scar, and then up.

He hugged me harder, nearly crushing my bones with how strong his arms gripped me.

“If I ever do to you what I did to Andrei, put a bullet in my head.”

Startled by his words, I quickly pushed back, cupped his face in my palms, and forced him to look at me. His eyes looked dead, haunted, once again proving to me how much alike we were. Facing his shuttered expression was the same as looking in the mirror.

“Never.”

“You have to.”

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