The soldiers are marching again, with the heavy sound of drums quick to follow.
Everyone in the town who knows what is coming stays silent and tries to hide, praying that they won't stop here, in Woodson.
And it's every week now that they pick a new...
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In the morning, I wake up earlier than Camillo, who snores lightly under the covers.
Daylight is shining through the tent flaps, and through the thin material of the hospital walls I can hear the bang of pans - women preparing for breakfast.
8am.
I think about how much has changed since yesterday morning, when I was forever stuck counting down the minutes of the clock hanging to the far left of my own hospital bed.
My voice is a little sore from giving orders to Emily yesterday, but overall I'm feeling much better than I have in days. Admiring the way the sunlight reaches every curvature of Camillo's tan cheekbones and neck, I rest a delicate hand on his chest next to his heart.
It's beating.
Fast, like little butterflies.
"A-Adeline?"
"Hey, you."
Camillo's eyes open suddenly, the sweet honey brown a welcoming sight for sore eyes.
I have missed the way the skin wrinkles around the corners of his mouth as he smiles, and seeing it now makes me want to cry.
Trying to get out of bed, Camillo flinches at his injuries, causing me to reach out with both my hands to stop him from accidentally pulling out his IV bag inserted into his left arm.
"Stop that. You're healing," I point out to him, gesturing towards his surroundings.
Camillo blinks slowly at me like a child, and the energy in his eyes disappears. He's clearly confused.
"Where... where are we?"
"Where are we?" I almost laugh ridiculously, outraged at the thought that after all he has been through, this is what he has to say.
"Camillo, you have 2 broken ribs, a bullet wound, and a fractured bone in your leg. You're in the hospital. I... I thought you were dead."
Unintentionally, my voice cracks at the end of my sentence, which causes Camillo to look concerned for me.
"The hospital? Are you okay? I -"
Not being able to stop holding it in anymore, I grab both Camillo's cheeks with my hands and kiss him hard to shut him up.
His lips taste like salt - my tears.
He's still worried about me, after all this time I thought his feelings would fade, and even when I'm trying to focus on him.
Coming away from the kiss, Camillo's eyes soften.
"Adeline..."
Camillo's hand moves up to wipe my tears, but I brush him away.
"You almost died," I sniffle miserably, remembering what it felt like to be totally and completely empty.
