Chapter Text
"Camila, stop." Beatrice grabs her by the arm, twists it behind her back. "Stop. You're going to hurt yourself."
"Let go," Camila yells, furious. She bucks and struggles, kicking and biting, and Beatrice barely manages to restrain her.
"No," Beatrice says, firm.
"Bea, let go! Let me go!"
Grim, Beatrice keeps her grip.
"Get off me!" Camila hisses, guttural, her throat tearing. "I need to get it out! Why don't you fucking understand that?"
"I do," Beatrice murmurs.
"No!" Camila bucks again, the back of her head smacking Beatrice in the jaw. Beatrice bites iron, sees yellow-black spots.
Still, she holds.
"Get it out," Camila demands, raw. "Get it out," and now the phrase burns with sobs, "get it out, get it out."
"We will," Beatrice swears. "Camila, we will."
"Now!" She lunges her weight forward, to where the knife had clattered to the floor. Her body is sweaty against Beatrice's, her curls mussed. Snot and saliva make a mess of her face as Beatrice rolls her into her chest. She beats a fist against Beatrice's shoulder. "Let me go."
"Listen to me," Beatrice says, tightening her arms around Camila's torso. "If you cut open your neck, you will die." With a bluntness terrible to her own ears, she repeats, "You will die."
"I want him out," Camila gasps.
"I want him dead," says Beatrice.
The vicious honesty slackens Camila, for a moment.
"I want him dead, Camila." She braces her sagging weight. "Not you."