The baby blue house on the east corner has been the same for as long as Camila can remember. Today, the once vibrant flowers that graced the edges of the house now hang listlessly, petals wilted and faded. The dull green leaves touch the ground and the flowers fling to the side as if they’re crouching down to touch the earth. Besides that, it looks the same as the day she arrived to permanently stay inside, from the small, chipped painting on the bottom of the house to the stone cat that protects the steps to the house.

Once inside, Camila can smell every memory her brain has stored. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander, allowing the memories to come flooding back. The scent of a childhood birthday party, the aroma of her grandmother's perfume, the fragrance of long summer days - they all came rushing back to her, as vivid and real as if they were happening at that very moment. Camila walks from the front door to the white door on the left that’s slightly ajar, almost inviting.

Inside the room is the smell of mothballs laced with dust and magnolia. There’s a lingering scent of death like it’s a human in front of her that has placed its neck to her nose. From the day of her grandmother's death to now, the room has been unmoved. Framed photos of the Pope and random days of celebration from her and Marie’s teenage years are unmoving collecting dust on the wall.

The nightstand to the left of the bed is dusty, riddled with random items from perfume to a bible, and then loose jewelry and bobby pins all stacked on top of each other. The bed, neatly stacked with floral sheets and pillows looks lived in and fresh. The sheets are ruffled, as if someone has woken up and moved them away from their body laying it to the side.

Camila's arms tingle and she can feel her grandmother's soft skin on her forearms and her withering smile, as she lays her on the bed. Her grandmother touches her cheek, wiping a tear away and shushing her. Her thick Spanish accent softly echoed around the room, “Thank you.”

Mercy. Camila had given her grandmother mercy in that very room.

Outside the loud rumbling of motor and alcohol penetrates through the house. Hard footsteps make their way up the small stairs, and then to the house pushing through the white door. Camila crunches her nose, grimacing at the sight before her.

Marie’s face is red, and a small bottle filled with a light auburn color is tightly gripped in her hand. Her hands land on the wooden table, and she slams the bottle down looking at me through red eyes. “You’re still here.”

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“Jesus.” Camila takes a peak outside, looking at the parked navy-blue door that reeks of alcohol. “Are you drunk? Did you…did you fucking drive drunk, Marie?”

She shakes her head and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “You’re not human and you just can’t seem to accept that.”

Those words shock Camila's system and she takes a hesitant step toward her, hands slightly raised to the air, Camila’s voice is soft yet gripped with white rage, “You’re drunk, Marie.”

Marie scoffs, “I… can’t believe you’d go after another one.” Her voice is slurred, “Was grandma not enough for you?”

Camila walks to her, grabbing the bottle from the table, “You don't know what you're talking about, and I’m not going after anyone.”

“Yohan.” Marie's words are waived but firm with a subtle hint of fear. Her heart beats violently under the dress, and Camila can tell she’s trying to calm her breathing.

Camila turns at the sudden words, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, “What?”

Marie’s hands are clumped in a fist. “I know. I saw…the coat and... the way you look at him. You can’t go after him.”

“I am not going after Yohan, I’d never hurt…” The words don't pass her lips, and a smile creeps on Marie’s face.

Camila stays silent for a second. Their eyes meet each other with such intensity that they don’t dare look away. Camila scoffs. It’s bitter, her throat straightened, “Is that what you think I am? Some sick freak who can’t control herself?”

She takes a step towards Marie, like a predator spotting prey. Marie takes a step back, her left eye twitching and fear is suddenly the only thing Camila smells. “You’re a….”

“What? I am a what?” Camila whispers to her.

Camila’s voice rises an octave, shocking a jump out of Marie. Yet, she remains the same, with a fist on both sides and anger painted on her face. “What you did wasn’t an accident.”

“Stop acting like you know what happened. You were never there.”

“YOU BIT HER.”

It’s Marie’s scream that sets off Camila’s instinct. In a flash she floats to Marie, backing her to the wall, teeth erected from her gums and eyes as white as snow. Marie's eyes widen, darting back to the wall, with a hand up as if trying to protect herself.

“I protected her.” Camila whispers above her, “Something you’ll never understand.”

Camila lets herself down, walking away from Marie, towards their grandmother's room. Anger and disappointment boil in her spine. She can feel her eyes water, but she simply sniffles and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. Marie takes slow, steady steps toward the room, and she stops until she’s just outside the door. “I thought I forgave you…I really did.”

Marie disappears from the room, yet Camila can hear her staggering footsteps and heavy breathing nearing the old room, Marie called hers. Camilas burn, and it only takes a second before tears keep rushing out without stopping. She hiccups softly, standing still until she crouches down kneeling on the floor. Camila’s body shakes while tears pour down, she hugs her body looking at the light outside the bedroom window, as if looking at a divine spirit.