Flying Blind (Camren)

Flying Blind Ch. 10

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Some time later . . .

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"Hey? You okay? I think she's waking up," came a warm, familiar voice. Camila had thought waking up after her last trip on experimental marijuana had been bad, but this . . . this was MUCH worse.

"What . . . I smoked again didn't I? Hangover?" But even as the jest came out, she knew it was not true.

"No babe," Lauren said, helping the girl into a sitting position. "No, this is no hangover. How are you feeling?"

"Ever feel like your insides have been ripped out and used as a noose to strangle you with? Kinda like that. And my head hurts."

"We'll give you something for the headache," an unfamiliar voice said. "I'm Doctor Callous, and feel free to make fun of my name. I just want to make sure you don't have a concussion. Are you dizzy? Nauseous?" He continued to question her while her mind started replaying the events of that afternoon over and over."

"Laur, where's Aaron? I . . . I should probably get to the station. I'm probably late!" she said, trying to stand up.

"Aaron is at the station. It's six in the evening, and your shift --"

"I'm late! I've got to --"

"Aaron is covering for you. Camz, you so need to take a break and --"

Camila's mind was like a broken engine trying to turn over, with lots of "whirring" and "clanking" but no real output. "I've got to go. Aaron has appalling taste in music," she muttered, again trying to push past Lauren and the doctor to stand up. "Seriously, he has Barry Manilow on tape. Barry . . . Manilow!"

"Camz --"

"I've got to --"

"Camila!" Lauren shouted, kicking in her Gift and putting her hands on Camila's shoulders. The bat shifter was now officially grounded. "You NEED to process this. William Mahone --"

"Don't say it!" Camila shouted, her eyes tearing up. "Don't say his name, don't talk about what he said --"

"Camz, he's waiting in the lobby. He really wants to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk to him!" she screamed. "Tell him to take his damn son and his damn wife and his damn money and get out of my damn life!"

"Don't you at least want to find out --"

"NO!"

"Miss Jauregui," the doctor said, "I'm afraid that I'm going to have to ask you to leave if you continue to --"


"No, don't make her go," Camila whimpered, burying her head against the girl's chest. "I just . . . I just don't know what to do."

"Babe, what happened at the hearing . . . shifters all over campus have heard about it by now, and so have their friends and parents and just about anyone they could get a hold of. You aren't going to be able to hide from this."

"Do you --" Camila started, then sniffed and blew her nose into Lauren's shirt. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Lauren said, taking some of the tissue offered by the doctor and handing it to her girlfriend.

"Do you have any idea what it was like?" Camila began again. "Of course you don't. You have the perfect parents and the perfect family and the perfect life. I don't blame you, but that's not what my life was. Every orphan I knew dreamed that a family like yours would come along and take them home. Some nice rich family where everyone is smart and pretty and everything. Then a few years goes by, and you're willing to do without the rich or the pretty or the smart. Then you just want someone who will give you a room and a birthday present. Know the only present I ever got in foster care? A beat-up suitcase to put my stuff in so that I could, and this is a quote, 'Get the hell out' the day I turned 18. Any dreams I ever had of having a family died a long time ago, and I'm not going to let the damn Mahone's rip my heart out again."