She appears in strange times, unpredictable like the changing weather just beyond the concrete.
At first it would be brief, a flash of brunette, pale cream and blue. Her eyes are always on mine, saying nothing at all and saying a thousand words at once.
It's become routine, along with everything else in my life.
How are you feeling, Lauren?
Take your medication, Lauren.
This will help you get better, Lauren.
If I didn't feel completely mental before being sentenced to a strictly supervised box until God knows when, I certainly felt myself slipping with each passing second, each pill, each white coat and clipboard, each glance Camila threw my way.
You lose all track of time when you've lost all contact and connection with the outside world.
What hour of the day is it? What day of the week is it? What season is it?
I'm stuck in a medicated limbo. I escaped prison but I might as well be in it. I'm here to get better and yet I feel myself growing more insane the longer I stay.
Dr. Collins visits me every day to take notes and fill his tape recorder until the last remaining second. I feel numb but the memory of Camila's bruises stirs a hot, sickly gut-wrenching feeling that burns my insides as if I'm rotting out in the sun day by day.
And then she speaks. And the air gets so thick I choke.
Hearing her voice is all I've wanted since the moment I laid eyes on her pale complexion and the hideous blurs of red and purple, perfectly placed underneath my fingertips. But it lights something within me and I feel myself ready to crumble, letting go of any remaining hope and sanity I have left in me.
It had to have been months. I can't recall how long I've been here but any amount of time is entirely too long.
She's sitting on the chair Dr. Collins usually takes when we have our regular meetings. It's odd to see her seated there in his place.
She seems so small, her hands folded neatly over her crossed knee. She tilts her head, wondering. Her presence is relentless, always returning no matter how hard I try to ignore her.
"You know, one of these days you're going to talk to me, Lauren," she says, no malice or annoyance in her voice. Not even a hint of warning or threat. She's calm and reposed. And she's unfathomably beautiful. "I thought giving you some time would work but it's been so long."
Dr. Collins, with the help of a plethora of psychotropic medication, had broken my post-mortem reverie, although he's still struggling to get any answers that are remotely satisfying. And in turn, so am I.
As it seems, so is Camila.
"I'm worried about you, Lauren," she says softly, uncrossing her legs and breaking her stare. She gazes despondently at her feet. I shut my eyes tightly wondering when she will leave.
I open them and meet her big brown eyes, pleading and desperate.
"You know I'm not going anywhere. This isn't another one of your dreams. You can't just close your eyes and make me disappear. It doesn't work that way-"
"Why are you here?" My voice is quiet but hard, and so sudden that she flinches. Her heart would be racing if it were beating at all. She stares at me, blinking a few times with her mouth hanging open, shocked to hear my voice at all. "Why are you fucking here, Camila?"
"I'm here because you want me to be," she says simply, regaining her composure and straightening her grey t-shirt out. I narrow my eyes at her and she is completely unfazed. Like she expects this reaction out of me. I am completely justified and she is completely expectant. This is so typical. "Don't look so baffled, babe."
YOU ARE READING
Trainwreck (Camren)
Fanfiction"Picture yourself in a nightmarish scene of such grotesque complexity that you'd kill to be dreaming. That's where you'll find me." cover by @slothtato (the real mvp)
