Camille

As soon as she heard the cracking noise of a match, she knew there was trouble. She stood still. She could distinctly hear smoke being inhaled and exhaled. How long could she stay so quiet? “Not long” She thought. But she wasn’t making a sound. Darkness made it difficult to see properly. Where was he? Three meters away from her trembling hands stood the man who had, only five months ago, killed her best friend Anouk.

Anouk and Camille had been close since high school, where a French literature class united them. They had sat in philosophy lectures at the same university for three years, they had shared countless cappuccinos on campus, and they always had something terrific to tell each other. Their friendship had been genuine, almost perfect, like sisters. Camille was a year younger than Anouk, who would have turned 25 this month.

Anouk’s family had moved back to another state since the tragedy. Camille had been sadly relieved with their departure. She was trying herself to move on, to get a fresh start somewhere else. For one thing she had quit university. She had found it too hard to be reminded everyday of her dreadful loss. Anouk’s brother had also been a close friend to Camille and she had given him the support she knew he needed. Although it was eating her alive to talk about it.

It was January and it was hot. Darwin had never been so humid and sticky. Camille felt sweat on her back. She still wouldn’t breathe. The man was looking in the wrong direction but he was awaiting her approach. All she had to do to give herself away was to breathe louder. Then she knew he would turn around and grab her. She closed her eyes. “Just relax, relax, he hasn’t seen you yet.” She let her heartbeat slow down. So far it was all she could hear and she was afraid he could hear it too. She allowed herself to breathe softly, one controlled breath at a time. She felt slightly better. All she had in mind was that terrible cold night of August. The 21st of August. Anouk.

She wanted to cry but of course she couldn’t. What had happen to Anouk was about to happen to her, and there was nothing she could do. Suddenly she perceived other footsteps, he heard them too. But she couldn’t see anything and soon enough she heard them fade away. She saw him sucking harder on his cigarette, in approval. The dirt road was deserted, like every other night, like any other times. Her house seemed so far away, but she knew she had almost made it back safe to her family, three hundreds meter away.

Camille worked twice a week in a pub of her local suburb. She finished at eleven each time and always walked the kilometer and a half back home. Even after Anouk’s death, Camille walked home twice a week on the deserted dirt roads. She wasn’t scared to do so, but she probably should have been. She now regretted turning down her older sister’s offer to come and pick her up. She had recognized him instantly. She had only seen him a fraction of second, that night, the 21st of August. But his face had been engraved in her memory for months . There hasn’t been one night without the haunting face appearing in her dreams, chasing her.

She had been almost home when she had spotted him. He was on his knees, cracking a match. She hid behind one of the rare trees of the path. She was almost certain that he hadn’t seen her, she had been walking quietly. Or so she tried to convince herself at the time.

Suddenly he moved closer to her but still without showing any acknowledgement of her presence. She held her breath as long as she could. But then she had to let air out. He heard her. He went straight to where she was hiding and grabbed her arm firmly.

She wanted to scream but no sound came out of her mouth. -“Camille”, He said softly. He had a nasty grin on his face, she could hardly see him and up close she found it hard to recognize him. But it was him all right.

He took a gun out of is inside pocket and rested the cold metal on her forehead. She didn’t have time to close her eyes. In Camille’s home only her father woke up to the blow. He lay a long time in his bed listening petrified to the long and crying echo, filling up the night.