|Carmella|
I didn’t know what I should feel at that moment—anger, frustration, or perhaps both. Camilla had just told me she couldn’t reveal, not yet, who was responsible for the bruises marking her skin. Should I be angry that she was withholding such a crucial piece of the puzzle, or should I feel frustrated that she was letting her fear paralyze her?
‘I’m just not ready.’
Her apology hung in the air between us, hollow and aching, echoing inside my chest. It sounded ridiculous. She wasn’t ready to give me the answers I so desperately needed, the answers that could change everything. But I couldn’t wait forever. I’m here, living her life, pretending to be her, and the longer I stayed in this masquerade, the more dangerous it became.
How much longer could I keep this up before everyt
