Chapter 17
I am being watched.
That was my first thought when I woke up, my heart racing as if I had been startled awake by something–or someone.
The room was dark except for the faint glow of moonlight seeping in through the curtains, but it felt… off. Like I wasn’t alone. My breaths came in shallow bursts as I scanned the shadows around me, searching for something, anything, that would explain the weird sensation crawling up my spine.
I swear I felt someone standing beside my bed. Watching me.
The logical part of my brain screamed, It’s just your imagination, Camila. Go back to sleep. But logic didn’t feel convincing when every hair on my body was standing on end.
I sat up slowly, my eyes darting around the room. Nothing. Just the faint outline of my desk in the corner, the pile of laundry I had promised myself I would deal with a week ago, and my bookshelf, looking as innocent as ever.
Maybe it was a dream. Yeah, that had to be it–a dream. Or maybe stress from dealing with everything: Greg, my mom, Ethan, school… my entire life felt like one big, chaotic mess.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been there. The air felt heavier, like something had disturbed it.
Pulling my knees to my chest, I sat there for a moment, trying to calm my racing heart. Sleep was out of the question now. Not when I felt like I’d just narrowly escaped some horror movie jump scare.
After a few minutes, I decided I couldn’t stay in my room. The silence was suffocating, and my thoughts were spiraling. Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I turned on the flashlight and made my way to the bathroom. Maybe a quick splash of water on my face would help.
As I passed the mirror, I stopped. My reflection stared back at me, wide–eyed and frazzled. My hair was a tangled mess, and the dark circles under my eyes were proof of how little sleep I had.
“This is ridiculous,” I whispered to myself. “You’re freaking out over nothing.”
Still, I couldn’t shake the unease. I took a deep breath, splashed some cold water on my face, and tried to focus on the simple tasks–like brushing my teeth and pulling my hair into something resembling a ponytail.
When I stepped back into my room, the feeling hadn’t entirely gone away, but at least it wasn’t as overwhelming. I climbed back into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin like they could protect me from whatever my overactive imagination was conjuring up.
I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the sound of my breathing, willing myself to fall back asleep.
The next morning, I woke up feeling like I had been hit by a truck. My sleep was restless, and my nerves were still frayed.
As I got ready for school, the feeling from last night lingered in the back of my mind. I tried to shake it off by focusing on the little things–picking out an outfit, tying my hair into a simple braid, applying some lip balm.
But every time I glanced at the mirror or looked over my shoulder, I half–expected to see someone standing there.
By the time I headed downstairs, I was already exhausted.
“Morning, sweetheart,” my mom chirped as she sipped her coffee. She looked far too cheerful for someone who had been obsessing over wedding plans the entire week.
“Morning,” I mumbled, grabbing an apple from the counter.
Greg was sitting at the table, reading the paper like he was auditioning for Leave It to Beaver. He glanced up with that friendly smile I couldn’t stand.
“Sleep well?” he asked, like he genuinely cared.
“Yeah,” I lied, biting into the apple and avoiding eye contact.
My mom glanced at me over the rim of her coffee mug. “You look tired. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly.
She frowned but didn’t push it. Instead, she launched into a detailed account of the latest wedding updates–something about flower arrangements and guest lists. I half–listened, nodding at the right moments while my thoughts wandered back to last night.
Was I overthinking? Probably. But something about it felt… real.
“Camila, are you listening?”
1/2
Chapter 17
I blinked, snapping back to reality. My mom was looking at me expectantly.
“Uh, yeah. Totally.”
She gave me a suspicious look but let it go. “Don’t forget you have that appointment after school today.”
“Right,” I said, grabbing my bag.
Ah yes, the appointment. The one I couldn’t avoid: a fitting for the bridesmaid dress I didn’t want to wear for the wedding I didn’t want to attend. I had been mentally pushing it to the back of my mind, hoping maybe, just maybe, it would miraculously get canceled. No such luck.
As I headed out the door, I couldn’t help but feel relieved to leave the house. Something about being out in the open felt safer, even if it meant dealing with Ethan and all the other drama waiting for me at school.
But deep down, I knew this wasn’t over. Whatever happened last night–whether it was real or just my imagination–had left a mark.
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