carve me and my heart out

CHAPTER 5

The roads were somewhat clear and clean. It was traffic free, I was eternally grateful and thankful for that because it meant that it provided us more time to arrive to our destination for this short trip. Tallahassee was where we were headed, I couldn't risk letting us get caught at any airport so I was taking cautions for air transportation.

Camila turned up the radio and the first thing that aired was the news about the murder I have committed.

“The jane doe has not been identified yet. The suspect for this murder case, though, has been identified and the perp's name is Y/N Y/LN. Dark hair, blue eyes, about five foot and six inches tall, and European. Be careful, for she's possibly armed. Anyone who has an idea of the perp's whereabouts is encouraged to immediately contact the police depart—”

Then Camila altered the station again.

“You're literally everywhere,” Camila announced to me.

I played with the zipper of the duffel bag in pure embarrassment. At any circumstance, I wanted to avoid appearing to be a fool, let alone a murderer in her eyes. For years, I have tried to master the works and obstacles in life so I may look very decent in the very least. Though that took too much process and time and dedication, so I scratched that off my list and decided to make Camila my only life priority.

“Well, for this week only,” I defended myself. Then I peered out to the window and noticed how dark it was on the road because of the little count of streetlights present.

“So, tell me, where have you really been?” Camila asked and that was the exact moment I turned my sight so that I could get a good look at her while I provided an answer to the question.

I fiddled with the zipper, and my fingers. “Uh, well, just around. Nothing much since you left and moved out with your family.”

She glanced at me from time to time but on most times, she fully had her eyes stuck on the road. The darkness did not help her to see clearer and so did the fog that added up to it. But my directions for her were easy and she had a GPS installed in her vehicle which made things a tad bit less complicated than they originally were.

“Nothing much since I left? Y/N, I left thirteen years ago,” Camila reminded me, not directly staring.

I sighed. “I know.”

“What about college studies?”

“Nothing much,” I repeated, feeling hot. My ears were hot. My neck was hot. My hands were warm. I was an epitome of the sun if that were the case right now.

I switched the subject. “Turn right.”

And she steered the wheel to the right side, making a sharp turn which I was not startled about.

Camila shifted in her seat. “What did you really do? You're so different but then I'm starting to think you're just the same teenager I met in middle school.”

That wasn't my ideal response from Camila. I didn't come all this way just for her to say such thing. In fact, everything I did in those thirteen years was to try and get her back in the most inconspicuous ways. I have been making researches of anything that was relative to her—her friends, her university, her course, the subjects she took, the professors that taught her. All of what I did within' those thirteen years were dedicated to her and only her.

Thirteen years and I've murdered someone for her. Not only that it was a good idea, but it was working in the first two hours since I've initiated it. The initial reply from her was substantial but I was also rethinking what I've done. It was for the better good, to get rid of her. To have her banished from Camila's life for once and for all.