Post by meredith strauss . 2f . cass on May 23, 2020 23:43:01 GMT -5
Camila Salazar Sixteen Female District Seven Younger sister to Catalina Cousin to Jacinta Salazar
camila is a bit naive, looks at the world very black or white just sits in her rich home and tries to pretend its made from hard work and not drug dealing sees herself as a little better than the others because she won't go down to their level so she's got a little bit of smugness looks down on the people involved in drugs and they hate her for it ain't invited to the family parties would probably snitch on a bitch
Post by meredith strauss . 2f . cass on May 24, 2020 0:40:05 GMT -5
c a m i l a.
Until the day I die I promise I won't change so you better give up I don't wanna be told to grow up and I don't wanna change
Camila Salazar rolled her brown eyes, she bit back her next words as her father shook his head he always warned her that if she didn’t stop, they’d roll so far back she’d lose them altogether. She’d walked past his study to hear absolute garbage as he’d mentioned a few of his more unappealing activities. The pause and turn of her head to peer into the gloomy room had caught his attention and he had frowned at her, before telling her to move along, “it was none of her concern.” So she’d walked away, hand tightening around the book as she brought it up to her chest with an annoyed sigh.
The world was black and white. To Camila you were either good or bad, there was no in-between, and so the one she found herself in was, well, problematic. Her father's business was not her own, and she turned a blind eye to it all. She sat in her pretty little house, a room decorated with the most beautiful ornaments, a large double bed. Her room was on the second floor, large double-doored windows opened to a balcony that overlooked the garden. The whisper of the fountain was music that filled her ears every day. The chair beside the window was comfort, blending into the hundreds of books that lined the walls of her room.
It was a reality she danced with, happy to live her life in comfort, but also happy to complain about why it was that way. She wondered onwards, trying her best to ease the anger that simmered in her belly, it was always there and she didn't think it would ever be put out. Camila was comfortable, finding herself protected by luxuries that allowed her to be someone and as much as she hated it she was too much of a coward to run away from the lifestyle. It didn't stop her from openly complaining about it, or telling her cousins they should do better and be better. They hated her, she carried herself with a pretentious air that got her uninvited from family gatherings. Smug, they said, she was too smug, placing herself on a pedestal above the fiends, and the drug lords of her family. Camila Salazar was better than them, or so she believed.
Camila greeted her older sister with a frustrated grunt, as she smacked her book onto the table beside her, before pulling the chair out and dropping her slender body onto it. Catalina glanced up at her, narrowing her eyes before turning her attention back to the paper she was reading. There was a moment of heavy silence before Camila jumped in, her hesitancy evident, knowing already how her brash sister would respond.
“Why does he always have to be doing some dodgy shit,” it wasn’t really a question, she knew why he did it, she just struggled to understand it. Camila had always been that way, balancing the information on the edge of a fence. No matter how she put it, everything would go tumbling down, landing itself into a pile of stinking shit. Perhaps there was a level of bias there, black and white, everything she saw her father touch was tainted in darkness. The other side of the fence was all the good things in life, like doctors and farmers and people who didn’t fill the world with more evil.
“How else do you expect food on the table? It’s not so bad you just need an open mind.” Catalina was always good at that, she had an incredible skill in saying everything with an edge of condescension that made Camila’s skin prickle with anger. Yet, the words she spoke were mirrored with the usual kindness and protectiveness of her family. They all did the same thing, treated each response like a script from a book, delicately balanced with kindness as to not push her too far away. They tried to understand why she hated it so much, but in the end they always grew frustrated. Their patience and kindness were wearing thin it seemed.
“I’m not an idiot, Catalina, I know that,” she scowled, her anger evident in the use of Catalina’s full name. It was a defensive tactic she dropped when Catalina hit a sore spot, and her sister knew she had one the fight as soon as she used it. But Catalina didn’t relent, instead, her words were chipped with anger, as she put the paper down and folded her arms across her chest, “why don’t you not eat for two nights and tell me how much you enjoy normal citizens jobs.”
Camila bristled, pushing the chair back as she stood up, fists clenched tightly by her side. She knew that Camila wouldn't, and it made her hate herself for her inability to be just a little bit stronger. If she was anything like the person her words wanted her to be she'd have left the house a long time ago. Camila was incapable of it, though, to trapped by everything around her, too much of a hypocrite to actually do so. In the end, her family knew her words were meant to cut, but that's all that they would do. She was stuck. “Fuck you,” she spat before turning and storming to the door, she turned around at the exit, sending her sister the finger before fleeing up the beautiful designed stairs, lined with expensive paintings and artwork, and back to her room.