carve me and my heart out

CHAPTER 6

It hurt. My head. My hands, 'cause they were cuffed. My heart hurt, literally and metaphorically. My eyes hurt. My lips hurt. My nose hurt. My abdomen hurt. Me in general was hurt in every little way possible and it was difficult to handle and withstand, even right after I was sent to the police station in a cop car. The ride reminded me of how much of a failure everything went for and from.

And there was Camila. It was funny, though, how she began her charades in the beginning, and I ended up falling for her actions like she was some movie star and I was the audience that enjoyed every lie that she's fed me with. In all honesty, if that was the case, I'd take her lies for dessert anytime.

The possibilities of them identifying the body was not in their best abilities, because I knew she was burnt down from skin to bones, or maybe she wasn't. I hated being certain about things because no matter how sure I was of something, it would retaliate back to me and try to snap me back into reality—reality contained a character of me that was never right about anything.

The officer who I assumed to be in-charge of the case entered the room and I continued to stare at the two-way mirror across me.

He sat down across me and looked me dead in the eyes and I never looked away, I could sense the rage and his inability from where I was sat and I could feel his enraging hatred for my existence as if it was his mother that I've murdered.

“Who was that girl?” he finally asked, his voice large and dominant in the room.

I chuckle, fiddling with the chain of the cuffs. “You haven't found out yet, have you, officer?”

“Stop being so blunt about this, you asshole, you murdered some innocent citizen!” he irascibly shouted, pointing towards me.

I found it amazing on how I could irritate someone so easily. Let alone an officer.

“Innocent? Citizen? Oh, please, officer, you have not even given the dead body an identity yet. She's remaining as a Jane Doe, isn't she?” I raised one of my eyebrows with a playful smirk and he immediately slammed both of his palms on the metal table, not making me wince for one bit.

“You think this is funny? That you killed someone?”

“Nah, officer, I don't think you understand,” I told him.

He took out a folder and placed the pictures in front of me and I recognized the burnt body even before I saw the pictures, it was expected of them to show the perpetrator their prey's body as a result of their actions, probably expecting us to repent from what we had done.

Thing was, I was never gonna repent what I did to her. Not once. Never. Just not in a lifetime.

“You see this woman you murdered? You see what you did to her?!” He pointed to onenof the pictures and I pretended to peer over it like it was my first time witnessing her corpse.

“Yeah, officer, I ain't blind.”

He slammed his hands on the table once again. “God damn it!”

Then the door flew open and another co-worker of his motioned the him to come forth and he shot me an angered look before leaving the room in silence and to me alone.

After a minute, Camila entered.

“What are you doing here,” I asked, softly.

It was hard not to be angry of what she had done to me but I knew none of this form of hate would bring back the freedom I had before all the mess I put myself up to. When she sat across me with a pained frown on her face, her eyes were oceans for melancholic eras and she was a story with no good ending, but I learned from my mistakes and I knew her intentions.

So I chose not to trust her anymore.

“Y/N..” she began.

“Stop. I don't wanna hear your apology, you fucking had me from the start. Why would you do something so cruel? Why? All I did was for you and this is how you show—” I looked away and felt a tear rush down my cheeks and I wiped it away with my sleeve and looked back up at Camila and she stared at me with pity swimming in her eyes.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

“No.”

“Who was this girl?” she asked, her fingers gliding over the pictures as she took a good look at it.

“No one,” I answered, still fueled with abomination for her betrayal.

She stared. At me. Then said, “Who was she? Why was she important that you had to kill her?”

“She's no longer important now that the reason I killed her for is useless,” I replied to her and she gave me one of those sympathetic looks that I only got once in a lifetime. This was probably the first and the last.

“You killed her for me, right?”

“Yes, Camila, so shut up.”

“Why?” she pressed the subject.

I inhaled sharply. “Why does it matter to you? You never cared about what I did for you anyway. What's the change of heart?”

“Y/N, I fucking cared for you and what you have done. But going ballistic when we were younger was not maturity. You're being petty and you're aging backwards.” Camila sat back on her chair and her lethargy seemed far too obvious for me to discern uneasily.

“Okay, whatever, doesn't matter, going to jail anyways,” I said and laughed it off bitterly because of the realization on how accurate my statement was.

“Who was it, Y/N?” she asked. “Who was it that you killed for me that it seemed so important, huh? Who was this woman that you killed because of me? You spoke of her death like it was some pathway to me. Like, if she weren't dead then you wouldn't have had your hands on me.”

“Stop,” I whispered, feeling the giving up part of this.

“Who was it?” she said and her voice just brought back memories and pain andbI felt no more human than I thought I was.

“Who was it, Y/N? Who is this person you killed—” I was so tired of the curiosity.

“Me.”

THE END.

a/n: if u dont get it, keep re-reading from the first chapter. is2g if no one gets this im gonna cry and pretend i never wrote this crap

or just read the comments here, u know. so a bit of the explanation for that have been shown in chapter 3. like, literally focus on what Y/N says all the goddamn time. and also chapter 4 & 5. if u look at it close enough, u'd know who she killed in the first place. this is too mythical, i know, but there's a lesson to it tho? like just dont kill a PART of urself to satisfy someone u love because it doesnt end well anyway. and y/n LITERALLY took out a part of herself and god only knows how, but she took out a part of herself that she wanted to kill. her newly defined person became more dominant on the control and decided it would be best if she killed her previous version so she may be able to have camila now without any arguments. but clearly she was wrong and things get more fucked up from there. love made her do bad things and it did happen.

i don't really like, well, explaining my stories bc 1) it beats the purpose of writing, like why the hell write when u would just explain everything, and 2) i don't wanna limit the reader's imagination when it comes to reading

but i felt like having the need to explain this sucky short fic even though it pains me to do it lmfao. anyway, hope u liked it at least one bit (:

but anywho, thanks for reading. another blast off for another finished story.