Page 171 of Ink Deep Devotion

I was the one who came back to her.

That, or maybe my thoughts over the past few days, are just me going utterly paranoid. Ever since Nonnina pointed out that I touch my wedding band, I’ve noticed that others have looked at me as I grasp it.

“Maybe it’s all in my head?” I mutter as I spin the ring around my finger, just holding it like a block of ice, claiming the remains of an extinct creature. I feel like Camilla’s eyes are chisels breaking through the tundra, trying to discover the truth, whereas Nonnina’s questions were more like ropes being tossed down to help me. I can’t explain the difference between Nonnina and Camilla. It’s there, blindingly so.

In the time I’ve been on the run, I have learned a lot.

I noticed more.

Every art class, Camilla comes close, standing off to the side as she watches me draw.

I’ve come to discover that she is not transfixed by my charcoal pressed to the paper or canvas.

It’s my wedding ring.

This has led me to ask Nonnina, the mother of all gossip, more about Camilla. The shocking truth is that Nonnina doesn’t know much about Camilla because she’s new to town—she came a few months before I did. She leaves town on the weekends and comes back only to teach her classes. She doesn’t venture out, not even to eat or gossip. Only her students have come to learn her voice.

It might be a coincidence, but Camilla’s push to open up tricked me into thinking I did it of my own free will. One night, when I was punching the air during my self-defense class, the idea just sparked in my mind. It stained my thoughts, turning them all sodden.

Was Camilla who she claimed to be?

I thought about calling Avery, but I was on my own. There was no gun pressed to my head. I needed to figure this out myself.

I missed the past four art classes, looking over my shoulder as I walked to and from work, staying up all night, clutching my backpack, and telling myself to run while I could. Then I talked myself into believing I was paranoid.

Camilla is an art teacher. Every teacher is pushy.

My hand is so sweaty the ring slides off my finger with ease.

Gasp! Exhale. Inhale faster before you pass out. Breathe!

My breath becomes labored as I place the ring on the counter. I look at it like I’m stranded on an island, and my ship is slowly sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

It’s the last part of Dash I have clung to. A relic of a life no longer tangible.

Slowly, I grab my bag and walk to the door, turning to look back at it. I want to see if Camilla will notice.

Then what, you fool?

I don’t know. I just have this gut feeling that no one in my world is who they claim to be.

Not even me.

???

“You seem nervous,” Camilla announces as she comes to stand next to me. She’s avoided me most of the evening as she helps critique the other students. The hour has run late, and now it’s just me and two others, one of whom is beginning to pack up.

A pile of paper surrounds my feet. I have made many failed attempts to start a new drawing, but all I managed to do was watch Camilla.

I really have gone deranged. She’s just a normal teacher; Nonnina is a normal old lady running her cafe.

I rub my eyes till I see stars.“I didn’t sleep good,” I respond.

Camilla rubs her chin as she looks at my blank sheet of paper.“I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in years,” she mutters,“thus my growing caffeine addiction.” A giggle slips from her lips, but her eyes look right at my hands as they drop into my lap.

Oh my god! The lingering of her gaze on my empty finger can’t be missed.

Why are her lips turning up?

---