Rose Thorns & Love Letters

22 ➪ Love, Vincent

•Camilla•

16/12/1889
My love,
How are you? What captivates your interest in today's world? A few years ago, I would have been confident in the fact that it was me. Though, now I have learned to accept that not everybody receives their happy ending.
Love, Vincent

_________________

My eyes shoot open as the alarming sound of a ringtone emits from the phone sitting on my bedside table. My eyes adjust to the darkness as I wait for my limbs to unlock.

I unwrap myself from my heavy comforter and reach for my phone without actually looking at it. My hand smacks the surface of the bedside table a few times before I find the source of the sound, accidentally knocking it over before I am able to turn the alarm off.

I groan out of frustration before lowering myself to pick up the device and placing it face-up on the table. My eyes catch sight of the time. 3:44am. Why would I set an alarm for 3:44am? My heart plummets when I see that it is in fact not an alarm.

It is a call.

The same feeling that exploded in my insides when I received an unknown text a few weeks back begins to bubble in my throat. My mouth goes dry and my limbs tighten. What is happening?

The continuous sound echoes the walls of my room and the more I hear the needy cry of attention from my phone, the more I become aware of the rapid beat of my own heart.

Finally, I build up the courage to attend to my phone's desire and shakily press the respective button to answer the call.

"Hello?" I rasp, wary of the fear channeling through my voice.

If I had not been the one to answer the phone, I would not believe that an active call between an unknown caller and I is taking place right now. The lack of sound from the other line is deafening and the sound of the nothingness sends a rush down my spine.

I am distracted by the sound of a ping coming from my phone. I do not quite know what I should be expecting, but I know that it cannot be good.

I see to the place in which the sound came from. It is a message. A message from this unknown caller. The chat - again - is clear apart from the two words displayed on the screen. When said separately, they are harmless. One could be argued sensual even.

Though when they stand side by side, depending on the circumstance, they could form the most dangerous underlying tone known to man.

Come outside.

_________________________

•Phoenix•

It has been two days since I told Camilla about my little food issue and she has not failed to text or call me at least once every waking hour to ask if I have eaten. Like any normal human eats every hour.

In all honesty, I like food just as much as the next person does. My problem is that I just cannot bring myself to thoroughly enjoy it without tasting pure guilt with a side of whatever rests on my plate.

I cannot stop beating myself up for allowing her into my personal life. For whatever reason, I cannot bring myself to lie to her. Every time I tell myself to keep my domestic life a secret from her, I end up doing the polar opposite.