Miss Cabello

Prima Ballerina

(AN: TRIGGER WARNING.)

Camila's POV

I let out a ragged, loud scream. I laid on my bed, trying to desperately find a way out of this nightmare. It had been days since mama died. My shoulders shook with a sob as I curl myself into a ball. It was taking every nerve, organ and cell to keep me from becoming insane. But it hurts so much, yet I didn't know that was hurting. I tried searching for the physical wound, but it only seemed to go deeper inside of me, somewhere I cannot touch, somewhere medicines and bandages can't cover.

I was truly alone.

When mama stabbed herself and bled on the floor, I immediately called the hospital, but I knew she wouldn't survive. The wound was too deep, the knife barely visible. I knelt before her that night, watching her steal her last few breaths. I didn't cry, my eyes were empty of the tears I had offered to her for the many past years. But I felt my heart twist inside of me. She was still my mother, even when she didn't see herself as one. She died on the spot.

I had confined myself inside the house in my fortress of solitude and misery. I hadn't eaten anything. I didn't go to school, or to my ballet classes. It wouldn't make a difference anyway if I went. I was just an insignificant fragment of the world's painting. Just a mistaken dot placed by the painter, unlike the flowers and the trees that were placed there with love and purpose.

I tried sitting up on my bed, forcing my bones and muscles to coordinate with me, when my head spun, momentarily making my vision blurry. I sighed and ignored my mind screaming in agony. I sat up gently, slipping off the bed.

The night mama attempted to kill me, I wished for death. Death was only within my reach, but it couldn't be given. It was the only way out of this.

Suicide. Oh, such a sweet word to my ears. The idea was so tempting and seductive that it jerked me to my feet to scramble my way to the kitchen. I wanted to embrace suicide. I had no reason left to walk on the land of the living, might as well drown in the sin of this. I searched for the same knife mama used nights ago. The steel was covered in dried blood, but could still slice through skin.

I laughed.

I should've done this a long, long time ago.

I placed the knife in line with my wrist. I shouldn't have existed.

A tentative knock on the door. A knock that my conscience called my saving grace.

I quickly hid the knife in the cupboard and went to the front door. The person whom I least expected was standing in my doorway. It was Vickie. She was wearing a worried and pitiful expression on her face.

"Camila, I heard about your mom. I am so sorry." I exhaled shakily, staring at her.

"You don't have to be."

"We were all worried about you back at the studio. I also heard from the other dancers you haven't been attending school and answering to anyone's call." Vickie said quietly.

"I'm sorry." I said, the words were a close friend of my mouth, always having to say it out loud to mama.

"It doesn't matter anymore now that I've seen you. I brought you something." Vickie raised her hand and revealed take-out. My mouth watered from the sight of the food. "Let's eat?"

-

I sat on my chair at the dining table, pushing a considerable amount of food into my mouth as fast as I could. My stomach rejoiced and my body replenished. Only when I was down to my last couple of spoonful had I realized Vickie hadn't eaten anything. Oh, where were my manners!