Peep of Light

Chapter Four

Camilla's POV

As soon as the door clicked shut, I bolted upright, a wave of dizziness washing over me. I gripped the table for support, waiting for the room to stop spinning. Once the world settled, I rushed to the kitchen, my hands trembling as I poured a glass of water and gulped it down.

The house was deathly quiet, yet I knew I wasn't alone. He was here again-the nameless intruder who always seemed to slip past my defenses. I had installed cameras and a top-notch security system, but somehow, he evaded detection every time. It was as if he were a phantom, appearing and vanishing at will.

A shiver ran down my spine as I scanned the darkened corners of the room, my heart racing with a mix of fear and determination. I had to find out who he was and what he wanted-before it was too late.

I abandoned the cup on the counter, my fingers brushing against the cool surface of my phone as I snatched it from the island. Every second I spent in the house felt like an eternity, and my legs threatened to give out beneath me as I stumbled toward the door. Overhead, the floorboards groaned under the weight of the unseen intruder, spurring me onward.

With a final surge of adrenaline, I flung the door open and burst into the oppressive, stifling air. The further I fled from the house, the more the sense of suffocation eased, yet the chilling knowledge that I was being hunted remained.

As I reached the small gate, my mind raced with a jumble of fear and determination. I had to put as much distance between myself and the mysterious figure as possible. But even as I plunged onward into the cold street, a nagging question gnawed at the back of my mind: who was he, and what did he want from me?

My hurried steps gradually slowed as I found myself at the intersection, the blaring car horns and flashing headlights surrounding me in a cacophony of chaos. Before me stood the faded facade of my family's long-abandoned café. Ever since the accident, it had remained shuttered, a ghostly reminder of the past.

A frigid gust of wind whipped around me, my hair-once wet-now danced wildly in the air. I could feel my white shirt clinging to my body, accentuating my hourglass figure.

With a deep breath, I forced myself to keep moving, each step carrying me further from the café and the specter of my family's tragedy. I knew I couldn't linger on the past; danger still nipped at my heels.

I quickened my pace, eager to leave the café and the haunting memories it held far behind me. As I moved forward, the sudden taste of salt on my lips betrayed the tears that had begun to fall. Embarrassed, I quickly wiped them away, giving my head a little shake as I attempted to regain my composure.

A sudden catcall pierced the air, followed by a chorus of crude howls from a group of men nearby. Their leering smiles and suggestive comments sent a wave of revulsion coursing through me.

I turned to glare at them, my disgust and anger vying for dominance within me. How dare they treat me like some object for their amusement? But even as I felt my face flush with rage, a small voice in the back of my mind warned me to tread carefully. The last thing I needed was to attract more unwanted attention.

I wrapped my arms around my torso, biting down a hiss, willing the men to vanish from my sight. Why couldn't they find something better to do with their lives than harass women on the street? I could feel my skin prickle with goosebumps in the cold, and a flash of anger rose within me at the thought of the man who had forced me from my home in just a white t-shirt-long sleeves or not.

I tried to ignore the jeers and catcalls, but it was impossible to escape the feeling of vulnerability and humiliation that came with being objectified by strangers.

As I quickened my pace, I noticed the car matching my speed. I brushed my hair behind my ear, trying to maintain a sense of composure despite the growing dread in the pit of my stomach.

I kept my gaze fixed forward, determined not to engage with these men. I had bigger problems to worry about.

Suddenly, a feminine voice sounded beside me. "Hello, Camilla," she purred, draping an arm over my shoulder.

The men howled with laughter. "Looks like we've got two now!" they cackled, as the car inched closer to us.
I turned to see a motley crew of men emerging from the vehicle-some with beer bellies, others with unsightly mustaches.

"Looks like we're in for some fun," the men laughed, their malice hanging in the air.

My stomach churned at the sight of them, and my heart sank. These men should be six feet under-they were obviously wanted for crimes that would turn anyone's blood to ice.

I turned to Amy, my unease growing. "What are you doing here?" I hissed, rolling up my sleeve. Amy took a defensive stance beside me, her gaze flitting between the men and the scrunchie I had tied around my arm. Without a word, she reached out and yanked the scrunchie free, using it to tie up her own blond hair.

As the men came at us, the rest of the world went about their business, seemingly oblivious to the danger we were in. It was just the two of us against five of them-the odds were far from fair.

"They want to fight?" One of the men chortled, exchanging amused glances with his buddies. Their laughter and leering gazes only served to stoke the fire of rage burning within me. How dare they dismiss us so easily, treating us like objects for their twisted entertainment?

They converged on us all at once, their fists flying in a blur of violence. It was cruel, I thought, as I locked one of the men in a headlock and felt the satisfying crunch of his nose beneath my grip. His agonized cry washed over me like a refreshing breeze, vindicating the rage that simmered in my veins.

"I'm sorry, Camilla," Amy called out, her words punctuated by grunts as she fought off her own attacker as she kneed him in the balls before tying him up to the a tree, her back glistened with sweat as her gym pants lowered while she bent.

With a burst of adrenaline, I released the man I was holding and sprinted towards the one who had raised his hand to strike Amy. Grasping a fistful of his hair, I slammed his head against the tree, the sickening crack reverberating through the air as he collapsed to the ground like a lifeless ragdoll.

"Thank you," Amy whispered, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She brushed away the beads of sweat mingling with blood on her face, her hand trembling slightly.

"I don't forgive you," I seethed, my fists connecting with the man's body as he struggled to defend himself. Without hesitation, I landed a swift kick to his face, watching as he crumpled to the ground. Grabbing his neck, I held on until he slipped into unconsciousness, a heavy silence enveloping the scene.

Beside me, Amy was grappling with two attackers, tears streaming down her face. "Camilla, I was scared," she sobbed, delivering a resounding slap to one man before clutching her injured side. Her fists flew, alternating between the two assailants as she fought to overpower them.

As we fought, I couldn't help but think that our years spent in self-defense classes and the gym had not been in vain. Every muscle in my body tensed and relaxed with precision, fueled by adrenaline and the will to survive.

"I was scared too," I cried, my glaring eyes meeting Amy's wide-eyed gaze. I bit down on my lip, stifling the cry that threatened to escape. My hands were clenched into fists at my sides, mirroring the turmoil that churned within me.

Just as I was about to speak, Amy's eyes widened in terror. "Behind you!" she screamed, her voice ringing with panic

What do you think about Amy? Can she be trusted? I know everyone hates those men 😂

Please vote and comment 👋