Unspoken whispers

In The Flesh- XXVIII

You yawn as you pull open the door, rubbing your tired eyes. The silence unnerves you, and the slow discernment that your porch was empty made you freeze. There's no one there- so who- who knocked?

The darkness encompasses your surroundings. Your heartbeat pounding in your head and you nervously backed away from the entrance. You calculated how long it would have possibly taken to run to your kitchen and pick up a knife.

After counting to ten, and steeling yourself you ran, eyes darting anxiously now and then. Every little noise and clatter made the pit in your stomach grow. By the time you had gotten there, you rummaged hastily through the drawers, thankfully coming across what you remember to be your fathers cleaver.

"You've got a nice house." The voice is painfully familiar, and you turn in a panic to see the frequent visitor from your dreams.

"You- YOU!" He places his hands up in surrender, ducking effortlessly as you swing your fists. It was reckless but the annoynace that filled you was far too much.

"Ay, that's a bit rude to a guest-"

"How did you even get in-?!"

"You left the door open you idiot." The boy stuck his tongue out at you while you fumed. "Anyway, shouldn't you be glad that the man of your dreams is here, in the flesh?"

"NO! You're, you're irritating, infuriating, exas, exasperating and, and and-"

"Irritating," He mimics in an overly high pitch. "anything else?"

This person single handedly gave you a headache. Never in your life had you wished anything bad to anyone, and while these thoughts made you guilty, the boy made you seriously consider starting your own villain origin story.

"besides, just cause I'm not that madrigal you were canoodiling with earlier-"

"I, I was, was not canoodiling!"

"Right, geez, okay, if that's what you wanna say.".

"UGH! What, what, what do you even, even want?" You stomp, frustrated towards your bed room. The boy behind you grins mischievously.

"Let me sleep here."

"Go, go sleep outside."

"But!" He whines. It's dramatic, but you find it a lot less amusing than what Camilo does. "If people see me I'll be killed!"

"They won't do that." You deadpan. He' lying atop your bed, spread out like a starfish. And you wince at all the dirt and grime he's smeared. "Hey, stop, stop, stop that! I just, I just washed those, those sheets!"

"They will kill me," He corrected, pulling out a knife. You tense, but the boy doesn't point it too you, instead burrowing it under your pillow. "Just they'll kill you too."

"Isn't that, isn't that worse?" The thought chills you but he's oblivious to your obvious displeasure. He sighs.

"I know something useful to you."

"Ye, yeah?" You crossed your arms while he nods absent-minded.

"That one madrigal died right? Yeah I know how to bring her back to life."

At the mention of Julieta you suddenly feel sick. How could he bring her up like that? And in such a brazen manner at that. It angers you.

"I- I'm not stupid! You can't, can't bring people, bring people back to life why, how-"

"Just sleep." He gestured to the floor. "I'll tell you tomorrow."

The floor was not at all comfortable. After twisting and turning for the longest time you groan.

"I hate, hate you."

"I hate me too."

Eventually you did manage to rest, except it was horribly disturbed by his obnoxious voice. The boy was shaking you.

"Are you awake? Hurry up, people will probably start to visit you soon."

You grumble, sitting up tiredly.

"What, what??"

As you look around you notice that the sun has just barely started to rise. Which meant, how early was it now? And he woke you for what? Even Camilo wouldn't drop by this early. Before you can even open your mouth to complain he's already talking.

"Now, you have to trust me." He throws the knife at you and you fumble with it. It drops to the ground.

"I- wha-"

"You're gonna cut your wrist. Preferably on top of her."

"EH??" The flabbergasted gaze you send him makes him sigh.

"Unless you've never been hurt, I'm sure you've seen your... Weirdly colored blood?"

"I yea-"

"Now trust that you won't look like a lunatic and actually heal her."

You're still gaping at him.

"You'll need a cup or three. How you'll measure? No idea. Probably when you start feeling feint. Don't actually die though."

As hes saying all of these he's slowly backing away towards the window. He does some sort of salute, and just as he tumbles out he says-

"Don't tell your boyfriend I was here!"

"I- he- we-" you stutter to yourself. All until you realise he was gone, leaving you with unreliable information and a knife. For a while you still stood there, thinking for a moment. The only bad thing to going through with whatever the boy said, was that you would look permanently hysterical. Which, it doesn't seem bad but cmon.

On the other hand, you could heal Julieta. You massage your creased brows. Yeah, seems like the better option. But just in case, you positioned the knife on your palm. I'm not really gonna do this am I- your hands are quivering. The pain of the last cut you got hitting you. This time no magical arepas will be there to help.

Just as you pressed it further, gasps of pain leaving your mouth, someone had immediately pulled the blade out of your grasp. You look up in shock to see Camilo's wide horrified eyes. He had large eye bags, indicating how he must've not been able to sleep. How could- the boy was right.

"What are you doing?" The male wrapped his arms around you, frowning at the messy bed and the open window. "Did- did anything happen?"

You don't reply, as you contemplated to telling him what you had been told. As much as you hated to admit it, it would have probably been better not to. Camilo rocked the two of you back and forth. His hold on you was firm but his fingers were shaking.

"Y/n... Just what, what were you doing?" He pulled away, setting the knife far, far away from you. His fingers wiped some of the grime off of your cheek.

"I- I'll tell, I'll tell you later," You promised as he furrowed his brows. "You have to, have to trust, trust me. I need to see Julieta."