Camila

I woke up to the soft sound of the alarm clock, earlier than usual. I was so tired, but, as always, I forced myself out of bed. The world was still asleep when I left home, the sun barely beginning to paint the sky. The routine was there, as always: quick coffee, cell phone, messages, all on autopilot. There was nothing new, and that was comfortable for me.

The traffic was heavier than usual, and what should have been a quick trip to work dragged on. I was frustrated, as I always am when I'm stuck in a traffic jam. I gripped the steering wheel harder, feeling a twinge of impatience. I didn't like waking up early, I didn't like living in the city's frantic pace, but it was part of life.

The music on the radio helped distract me, but even that didn't work right. I just kept thinking about my book, my refuge, where stories of romance and magic enveloped me like a second skin. It was there that I felt most alive, and not in that endless traffic. Camila, the villain in my favorite book, has always been my favorite character, perhaps because she has the same name as me or because she is not understood, a feeling we share. She was cruel, elegant, but also full of mystery. Sometimes, I found myself wondering what it would be like to live her life, so far from everything I knew. Maybe, if I were like her, things would be different.

I didn't see the car coming until it was too late. The traffic light was red, but I was too distracted, lost in my thoughts. Before I could react, the crash was brutal. The impact made everything spin in a whirlwind. My body was thrown against the seat, and immense pain took over me. I tried to scream, but the words wouldn't come out. The world seemed to fall apart, my vision darkening.

"No... it can't be..." It was the only thought I could have before everything disappeared. Darkness enveloped me, and for a moment, I thought I had died. What if I had?

As the emptiness took over me, a strange sensation took my body, as if I was going to a place... different. Maybe paradise? No! I highly doubt that a filthy human like me has a place in heaven, I wasn't a bad person but I grew up feeling angry with God how could he see me suffering and do nothing, well deep down I know it wasn't his fault but I wanted to feel angry with someone and he was my refuge, but maybe he held a grudge, well whatever I'm used to suffering.

I was born into a world that didn't want to receive me. My mother died shortly after giving birth to me, leaving me with a father who, at best, was a distant shadow, and at worst, a monster. He never loved me. He never had time for that. He was a drunk who spent his days at the mercy of alcohol, and I was just a burden, a load to bear. I didn't know what caring or affection was. What I learned very early on was how to survive.

As a child, hunger was my constant companion. The hardest part wasn't the pain in my stomach, but the shame that came with it. I saw other children with happy faces, full of energy, while I could barely keep my eyes open from exhaustion. For a long time, I went unnoticed. Not even my father noticed or cared, so immersed was he in his own world of despair. But, somehow, I was growing up. I was learning to fend for myself, to hide in the shadows and work for what I wanted.

I worked in everything you can imagine from an early age — selling sweets, cleaning houses, doing any job that allowed me to gather a little money. I had no choice. At sixteen, I started working in an office, and it was there that I really began to understand how cruel the world could be. But it was also there that I discovered my taste for learning, for studying. School was a refuge, a place where I could hide for a few hours, where words and books became my escape.

With a lot of effort and nights of study, I managed to graduate. It wasn't easy, but it was what I wanted most. I graduated in international relations, an area that required intelligence, wit, and a sharp tongue — something that I, over time, was perfecting. It was an advantage I had, my ability to see the world in a unique way, to perceive the flaws and gaps that others didn't see.

But, of course, that also got me into trouble. My sharp tongue and straightforward manner put me in complicated situations. I didn't know, and didn't want to, be sweet or gentle. I always preferred to be tough, to be strong. That brought me some enmities and an arduous path, but I got a good job, heavy, but good. The truth is that nothing came easy for me. I was forced to fight for every little piece of my life.

Still, the shadow of my childhood never left me. Malnutrition, exhaustion, fear — all of that was still in me, echoing in my weaknesses, in my insecurities. But I was no longer the same girl who looked at the world with hungry eyes. I was stronger now, more resilient. And, if there was one thing I knew, it was that I would never let anyone make me feel small again, well now it didn't matter I'M DEAD! That's what I thought until I opened my eyes. When I woke up, the feeling was strange, as if something was wrong, but I didn't know what. My eyes opened slowly, and when I looked at the reflection in the mirror, a shock took over me. I was no longer me. The face that stared back at me was angelic, with golden hair almost white and blue eyes so deep that they were almost purple. A pale and flawless skin, so different from everything I knew. I was in the villain's body, Camila.

Camila

Leaving aside the shock of being in the villain's body, I began to take a look at the room where I woke up. The large windows allowed the soft daylight to flood the environment, bathing the walls in warm shades of brown and gold. The space was large, airy, as if it were a refuge from the world. Elegant furniture, in white tones, contrasted with the dark wood of the details, creating a simple and sophisticated harmony. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, their vibrant colors standing out against the soft background. In one corner, soft armchairs beckoned for a moment of rest, and, in the center of the room, the bed. Soft sheets, like clouds, and shaggy fur blankets were carefully folded, inviting to comfort.

The comfort of the place was undeniable, but something inside me, still stunned by the strangeness of the situation, made me question. Even surrounded by so much beauty and elegance, where were the servants? Where was the one who should take care of this perfect environment?

I looked around, seeking answers. No sound, no movement, the house seemed deserted, and the only presence that accompanied me was my own, reflected in the tapestries and the mirror. In the book, it was never described what the villain's life was like, and now I found myself trapped in it, not knowing what to expect. That room seemed to be a place of luxury, but why did I feel so alone?

I decided to leave the room. I didn't know where I was going, but curiosity pulled me. But, as soon as I took my first steps, I realized that something was not right. Just a few minutes of walking and my legs started to hurt as if I hadn't walked for months. Each movement seemed more tiring than the previous one, and I wondered if I was really in shape for this.

The pain made me stop for a moment, and that's when I started to notice the details of the corridor. The walls were decorated with huge paintings, whose golden edges gleamed with the soft light that entered through the windows. I should be rich. Very rich. But the wealth was not limited only to the paintings — the tapestry that covered the floor, the shine in the details of the frames... Everything there exuded a sophistication that I had never imagined for myself.

That's when I saw her.

The maid, or whoever she was, appeared on the corner of the corridor. Her eyes widened as she saw me, and she stood still, as if she had seen a ghost. I looked at her and, honestly, I couldn't help but find the scene funny.

"Seriously? Do I look like a ghost?"

I tried to call her attention, but my voice came out strange, almost muffled, as if it wasn't mine.

"Hey!"

I tried, still with a touch of disbelief in my voice. The maid, however, did not seem willing to listen. Before I could say more, she jumped back and, without thinking twice, started running down the corridor as if she had seen the devil himself.

I stood there, still, trying to process what had just happened. What an exaggeration... I thought, before feeling my vision blurring. The tiredness seemed to have settled in my body all of a sudden, and before I could do anything else, everything around me faded.

I woke up suddenly, my heart racing, my head heavy. For a moment, I stood there, motionless, trying to understand what was happening. Everything seemed so... unreal. Was it just a dream? I thought, still with my eyes half closed. I had imagined that I was trapped in the body of a villain, with those golden, almost white hairs, those blue eyes and that strange feeling of living another life. But now, back in my bed, everything seemed to have been just a vivid nightmare.

I tried to sit up, but tiredness still dominated my body. A strange pain in my legs made me realize that something was not right. I... I should be at home, in my own body, right? But I couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed, as if the memories of that experience — or whatever it was — were still haunting me.

That's when I heard a sound nearby, something between sobs and muffled moans. I turned slowly and saw the maid I had seen before, kneeling beside the bed, with her face in her hands, as if she was crying.

"Madam, you finally woke up..." she said, with a choked voice. "I... I thought I had lost you!"

I stood there, in silence, trying to understand. She seemed so real, so... desperate. But, why was she calling me "madam"? It was as if I was in a place I didn't recognize, surrounded by people who treated me so differently.

Before I could question further, the doctor entered the room. He seemed serious, but there was a concern in his eyes when he saw me. He approached the bed and began to examine me carefully, touching my forehead and observing my expression.

"How do you feel?" He asked, his voice soft, but firm.

I took a deep breath and tried to speak, but my throat was dry. It was difficult to focus on my thoughts, but one thing I know, I can't simply say that I'm not me, and that I really shouldn't be here.

"I... I don't know. I'm confused." That's all I could say.

He watched me for a moment, noting something on his clipboard. Then, he looked at me again.

"Do you remember who you are? Where you are?" The doctor asked the question with a gentle, but serious tone.

I tried to remember, looked for some answer, but nothing came to mind in the book did not delve into the life of Camila.

The doctor seemed to notice my anguish and made a grave expression, as if he already knew what was happening.

"I think we have a case of amnesia." He said, calmly. "The trauma and confusion you are feeling indicate that your memory has been affected. It may be temporary, but we will need more time to investigate the situation."

I didn't know if I felt relief or dread. Amnesia... At least I won't have to lie. Well, it seems I'll remain in this body for a while.

When the doctor left, I did a quick review of what I knew about the book. It said that Camila became obsessed with the prince and started to torment the protagonist, but I needed to figure out where we were in the story and if I had already done anything bad. So I turned my attention back to the maid who was still in the room.

"I'm sorry, I... don't remember much," my voice came out soft, almost like a whisper. "What happened to me? How did I end up unconscious? Where are my parents? And... why am I here alone?"

The maid seemed to hesitate, her hands trembling slightly. She looked at the floor before answering, and I realized she was a little afraid of me. Something in the way she avoided my gaze told me she wasn't completely comfortable. I, on the other hand, was trying to be as gentle as possible. After all, it wasn't her fault.

"Madam..." She began, in a timid, almost hesitant tone. "You... you fell off a horse. It was a serious accident, and you've been unconscious for a year."

I couldn't hide my surprise. A year?

"Where are my parents?" I asked, more curious than before. "Why am I here, and not at home with them?"

She looked to the side, as if choosing her words carefully. The maid, apparently, was afraid to say something wrong, and I could clearly feel that. But at the same time, her voice was calm, almost comforting.

"We're on your parents' country estate, madam. They prefer the privacy, so there are few employees here. You've always been used to living here, in isolation."

"In isolation?" I felt even more distant from everything, but I tried to keep my expression calm. I didn't know what was going on, but her story made sense in a way, or at least, that's what I wanted to believe for now.

"What's your name?" I asked, deciding to ask a simpler question, to soften the atmosphere and try to relax her. I realized she was a little nervous, so I wanted to put her more at ease.

She hesitated for a second before looking directly at me. Her voice was lower when she replied:

"My name is Matilde, madam. I'm one of the few maids who work here."

Matilde seemed so... scared, as if she was afraid of me. I didn't really understand why, but something in her expression told me that she saw something that I didn't see in myself. Maybe the villain's body was more feared than I imagined. But, in any case, I decided to be even more gentle.

"Matilde... thank you for telling me. I just... need more answers." My voice was calm, gentle. "I know it's strange, but please, help me understand."

She seemed a little more relieved to see that I wasn't getting angry. Matilde gave a shy smile and spoke softly:

"Madam, first let me bring you something to eat. Meanwhile, the other girls will help you with your bath."

Help with my bath? Well, soon I understood what she meant. Several women entered the room and undressed me. I felt immense shame. They led me to the bathroom, which looked like the pool of a five-star hotel.

I was open-mouthed when a sound of something falling on the floor caught my attention. One of the maids had dropped the bath salts on the floor, and some perfumed oils shattered glass everywhere. The girl was in despair and immediately knelt down begging for forgiveness.

"Forgive me, madam! I beg you, have mercy."

Her voice came out with such fear that it made me feel anguish. I bent down to her and squatted down and held her face, which was wet with tears. Her skin was trembling. I knew what the feeling of fear she was feeling was like.

"Are you hurt?"

I spoke softly and calmly, and she looked at me without understanding anything.

"I don't understand, madam."

"I asked if you got hurt. Come, get up, it's full of glass shards here, you could end up hurting yourself."

I could hear the whispers of the other maids, but when I turned around again, they lowered their heads and were silent. Soon the glass had been cleaned up and I was already being bathed. It was strange, while the lady who had begged for forgiveness was washing my hair with enthusiasm. I even tried to do it myself, but that seemed to be an offense. The bath was relaxing, my skin smells like flowers, my hair is soft. They also helped me get dressed and do my makeup. I looked like a true fairytale princess.

Dinner was served in the room. I thought it was a waste to dress up like this and no one see me, but that's okay. I don't mind eating alone, I was used to it in my other life, I did it a lot, but it would be nice to have company. I moved the food from one side to the other without enthusiasm to eat when Matilde interfered.

"Is the food not to your liking?"

"I'm just not hungry."

"If you want, can we change the chef again?"

"Again?"

"We're already on cook number 12 or 13, I can check."

"Matilde, tell me the truth, I wasn't a good person before, was I?"

"..."

Her silence already told me everything.

"Matilde, how old am I?"

"16 years old."

That was great, the villain is beheaded at 18 so the story hasn't really started yet.

"So, since I was in a coma, I didn't debut?"

"Exactly!"

It was at the debutante ball that Camila became obsessed with the prince, phew, I think I can save my neck.

"How long have I lived here in the countryside?"

"Since you were 3 years old."

"And how long have I not seen my parents?"

She was hesitant but blurts out.

"Since you were 3 years old. You were anxious since you would return with your parents as soon as you turned 15, but unfortunately that incident happened."

My jaw almost dropped to the floor. What crappy parents, how do they leave a child alone?

"So, in a general timeline, my parents abandoned me here."

"It was for your own good, you were a very sick child, your parents did it for your own good."

Holy shit, I wanted to scream and curse these shitheads, vent my anger, but the people around me didn't deserve it. I need to focus on changing people's impressions of Camila.

"Matilde! I want a list of everyone I've fired, mistreated, or harmed."