His Camelia [Completed]

Chapter 13-Home Alone

Camelia watches from the front double doors as her parents leave for the night to a company event which would keep them busy for the next few hours.  Accompanying them was a tall, burly man–their own personal bodyguard just incase danger struck.   She exhales loudly, closing the door and punches in the security system code to secure the house.

How long were they to live in fear and wait for Nathan Diam to make his first move, Camelia could only ponder as she leaned her back against the door. 

Nathan Diam still had yet to make a move since his threatening letter to her mother. So far she'd learned her father, Kent and the others they employed were working hard to track him down, but with no success. It was tiring, if not frustrating, to always look over her shoulder in fear, in uncertainty, knowing at any moment the enemy may emerge from the shadows and strike.

In Camelia's opinion it was too quiet. 

She never voiced her concerns out loud keeping her thoughts hidden, fearing it was bound to increase the doubts and worry in the minds of her family members.  But something was bound  to happen, Camelia could feel it down in the pit of her stomach leaving her with countless sleepless nights overthinking about it.

The real question was when.

It was common knowledge that criminals waited for ideal conditions in order to act, and it felt like the strike was nearing closer.  She felt like a fox to the hunter, with a black vulture circling the cage in which she was trapped.  Waiting.

She was worried for herself and even more so for her mother and father. Camelia hated how they suffered silently. They were troubled and anxious no matter how strong they appeared. They never showed a weakness.  A smile never slipped from their faces. Little did they know, they hadn't need to voice their thoughts. The body language they exhibited was a open book where the words were invisibly written by how they acted.

After all, actions spoke louder then words.  

Camelia wished she wasn't blessed with a strong sense of observation.  If it was knowledge or a type of gift she didn't know, but it was easy for her to see passed the facades, seeing what others were not too keen on showing.

She too mimicked her parents indifference, never revealing her own doubts.  Pretending to act nonchalant, as if a black cloud wasn't hovering above their heads waiting to become a rainstorm. Every morning she woke up with a smile when all she wanted to do was sink down and curl up into a ball in the corner of the room. She laughed, when she wanted to weep at the injustice of the world. She carried her suffering like a invisible crown secured atop her head and stayed brave for their sakes.

Leaning away from the door she turned in the direction of the kitchen.  Passing by the hallways, she stopped a moment and took her time to look at the pictures hanging on the wall her mother accumulated over the years as Camelia and her siblings grew up.  She smiled sadly at a picture of her brother Zayn, Jasmine and herself.  Even Raja, their father's pet panther was in the picture, sitting back on his paws. Unfortunately, he passed away from old age before she hit her teens.

They were staring at the camera with big grins, arms wrapped around one another.  Her brother was ten, Jamsine was five and Camelia was four years old.   The picture was taken right after a bike ride, in front of their home's circular driveway.  They still lived in the same house their parents bought when they married, twenty-five years ago.