AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Iwant to scream, to tearCamilaaway from them, but all that comes out is a choked sob.Mybody trembles, andIfeel likeI’mfalling apart, piece by piece.Thecold air in the hallway feels even more biting, cutting through the thin fabric of my dress.
“Valeria, hush now,”SisterAgnesmurmurs, her voice soft but firm.Shepulls me closer, wrapping her arms around me, but it does nothing to stop the flood of tears.Ibury my face in her rough, scratchy habit, my hands gripping the coarse fabric as if it could anchor me to something solid.
Butnothing feels solid anymore.Camilawas the only one who understood me on a deeper level, the only one who knew how to make the endless days in this dark, looming place feel less lonely.
Ipeek overSisterAgnes’sshoulder.Hurtand fear are etched intoCamila’sexpression, the way her hands clench tightly at her sides, as if she’s trying to hold herself together.Thedistance between us feels like a chasm, one we’ve never had to face before.Thewords we’ve said to each other countless times flicker through my mind, andIknow she’s thinking the same.
“Morstua, vita mea,”Imouth silently to her.It’sour saying, our bond—an understanding born from watching the delicate, fragile life cycle of butterflies.Wealways knew one’s life often means another’s end, but it has never felt as real as it does now.
Herlips tremble, and she swallows hard, fighting back tears.Shedoesn’t say anything, but her eyes speak volumes.There’sanger there, but beneath it,Isee the raw, aching sadness she can’t hide.Sheraises her hand slightly, as if she wants to reach out, but she stops, letting it fall back to her side, the weight of goodbye too heavy to lift.
Ican’t bear to look at her anymore.
Shenods, just barely, her shoulders slumping, as if the words have drained the last of her strength.
Theheavy doors groan shut behind her.
Ilet out a final, heart-wrenching sob, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on me.Mylegs buckle, andSisterAgnesholds me up, whispering wordsIcan’t hear over the sound of my own broken heart.
4
RONNIE
Present
Istep into my office, slipping into the small adjoining room, closing the door behind me.Thespace is dimly lit, most of the light coming from the array of screens lining the walls.Eachmonitor displays multiple different camera feeds.Thehumming sound of my computers instantly offers me comfort, a constant buzzI’vegrown accustomed to.
Iwalk to the control panel, its surface cluttered with buttons, plus a joystick for navigating the cameras.
Theair is thick with heat, making the room feel like a sauna.Ireach for the air conditioning unit mounted on the wall.It’san old model, but it gets the job done.
Witha flick of my wrist,Iturn it on, and the machine sputters to life, emitting a cool blast that cuts through the warmth.Iclose my eyes for a moment, savoring the relief as the cool air washes over me.
Withmy coffee in hand,Isit back on my chair, the screens flickering slightly asIadjust the controls, zooming in on one ofthe live feeds to get a better look.I’llbe stationed here for the next few hours.
Forthe past several weeks, this has become a ritual for me.
Everyday,Iopen the door, turn on the lights, power up the machines, and watch her.
Acrossthe many monitors,IobserveValeriawalking around her apartment.
It’ssix a.m.Asusual, she never misses her alarm.It’salmost as if she has been trained to jump out of bed as soon as she hears the first ring.
Iwas never a morning person untilImet her.Metis a strong word, but it’s all the same.Ifeel likeIknow her from the countless hours spent in front of these screens, memorizing each beat of her breath when she sleeps, every step she takes, the noises she makes.
Onmore than one occasion,I’vecaught her in bed touching herself, wearing those slutty pajamas, her taut nipples protruding through the thin fabric.Shealways looks annoyed when she does, as if she doesn’t want to be doing it, as if it’s something bad.Butas soon as the tips of her fingers reach her center, her body slackens, and she gives in to the feeling.
Whenshe becomes frantic, overcome with sensation, she’ll turn onto her stomach to find more friction, more purchase, shoving her blanket between her legs or humping a pillow.
I’vewatched her bring herself to orgasm on many occasions, the need to jump through the screen and nip at her clit almost unbearable.
Justthinking about it makes me want to spread her juicy thighs open soIcan feast on her for breakfast.Mycenter throbs at the thought.
Ishake those thoughts away and attempt to focus.
I’vebeen watchingValeriafor a few weeks now, but it feels like an eternity.
Everyday,Iobserve her through these screens, learning her routines, her habits, how she interacts with others.
