Camila's POV:
The feeling of being watched continue for a full week.
"Why do you keep looking into the woods?" Mark asked.
The sun was out, the skies clear, it was a perfect day to tend to the garden. Mark was taking care of the strawberry plants, salvaging whatever was left. Which wasn't very much. I tried to focus on trimming the mint plants, but my eyes kept moving back to the woods.
The feeling of eyes on me was hard to ignore. It felt like spiders crawling all over my skin.
"It's nothing important." I said, turning back to the mint. I had cut up quite a bunch. What will I even do with it? Make a drink? Or a balm? Or what?
"Camila," Mark called softly. I paused and looked up to him. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"
Ever since the night with the masked men, I can't explain what it
