32

32

Camille

The scene before my eyes looked like something out of a nightmare.
Bodies lay sprawled across the courtyard floor, the deafening sound of gunfire still echoing in my ears, and the smell of gunpowder mixed with damp earth made me nauseous. I wanted to move, wanted to scream, but my legs were too shaky to support me. I tried to grab onto something, finding only emptiness, as the ground began to spin beneath my feet.
— Mrs. Herrera! — Carmen’s voice cut through the fog in my mind as she tried to get my attention. She grabbed my shoulders, her eyes full of concern. — You’re very pale. We need to get you out of here now.
I let her guide me, unable to offer any resistance. The world around me was a blur, each step a monumental effort. We climbed the stairs, and I barely noticed when we entered the bedroom.
Carmen helped me sit on the bed, her steady voice trying to calm me.
— Take a deep breath, ma’am. It could be your blood pressure. That sometimes happens when we’re shaken up. It’ll pass soon.
I wanted to believe her, but the weakness didn’t subside. Carmen stood up and went to the bathroom, returning with a damp towel that she gently pressed to my forehead.
— I’m going to prepare a bath for you, — she said, giving me no time to protest. — It’ll help you relax.
When the water started filling the tub, Carmen came back to the bedroom and helped me take off my shoes and clothes with an almost maternal tenderness. I stepped into the bath, the warmth of the water wrapping around my body, easing some of the tension that had settled in my muscles.
— Don’t worry about anything, okay? — Carmen said, kneeling beside the tub as she wiped my shoulders with a wet cloth. — Just focus on breathing and letting your body calm down.
I did as she asked, trying to concentrate on the sound of the water and the warm sensation on my skin. The knot in my stomach was still there, tight and heavy, but the heat helped ease some of the stiffness. After a few minutes, Carmen helped me out of the bath and dried me off with the same care.
She dressed me in a soft robe and led me back to bed. As I lay down, she adjusted the pillows and pulled the blankets over me, making sure I was comfortable.
— Rest, Mrs. Herrera. I’ll bring you something to eat, even if it’s just some tea. But first, I need you to close your eyes and try to relax.
I nodded, still too weak to argue. When Carmen left the room, I was alone again, the silence broken only by the uneven beat of my heart. I closed my eyes, but the images from the courtyard kept haunting me.
The only thing I knew for sure was that those people had died for my house, and maybe the guilt of that — weighing down on my shoulders — was what made me feel this way.
I was guilty, and I was starting to fear what might happen if Javier found out I was the one who handed over the shipment on a silver platter.
In my light sleep, the sounds around me began to creep into my consciousness.
Carmen’s hurried footsteps echoed in the room, and I heard the water running in the bathroom. I could easily imagine her cleaning up the mess she’d made while helping me.
My foggy mind drifted back to breakfast with Roberta. The mere thought of it made me shift in bed, a pang of discomfort hitting me. Thanks to her, I didn’t even have time to digest the food. After hearing everything Roberta had to say about Juan Carlos threatening me physically, my head was spinning with thoughts, and the nausea overwhelmed me — I had to rush to the café bathroom to throw up everything.
I remembered the brief moment of relief when we left, thinking the worst was over. But the sight that awaited me at home was enough to destroy whatever calm I had left.
Javier.
He was standing in the courtyard, his shoulders rigid and his expression cold — as if it were a part of who he was. When I saw him, the last man on his knees in front of him was being executed without hesitation. The sound of the gunshot still echoed in my ears, even hours later.
And the blood.
There was so much of it — splattered across the ground, dripping from the men’s clothes — a grotesque contrast to their cold indifference. That was all it took for the sickness to come back full force, like a wave pulling me under.
Another wave of nausea hit me as I recalled the scene, and I pressed my fingers to my temples.
I tried to convince myself it was just the empty stomach, or exhaustion — anything but the fear starting to take root deep inside me.
I heard Carmen return from the bathroom and approach the bed. — You’re awake, dear? — Her voice was soft but full of concern.
— Yes… — I murmured, trying to sit up. My head throbbed, and a wave of dizziness forced me to lie back down. — I don’t know what’s happening to me.
— You’ve been through a lot today. Your body’s reacting to the stress. That’s normal, but you need to rest. — Carmen adjusted the blankets around me, sitting by my side, keeping both hands tucked into the white apron she wore, a comforting smile on her face.
— It’s not just that, Carmen. — My voice trembled slightly, but I needed to say it. — It’s not normal to watch someone do what he did and feel... nothing. He didn’t even blink.
Carmen sighed, taking my hand in a comforting gesture.
— Javier is a complicated man, ma’am. He has his reasons, and some things are necessary in this world...
— Necessary? — I cut her off, disbelief flooding me. — None of this can be necessary, Carmen.
She gently squeezed my hand but didn’t reply. Maybe because there was nothing she could say, or maybe because she knew any explanation would only make it harder to accept.
I closed my eyes again, trying to block out the images, the sounds, the smell that seemed to cling to me. But no matter how hard I tried, the reality was clear.
I was trapped in that world, and with each passing day, I felt myself sinking deeper into it.

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