It always rains in Detroit.
At least that's what Camila concludes from where she is perched on the roof, scuffling her shoes against the ashen tile. She's come to hate the rain. It draws a foggy blanket over the city and makes it harder for her to find her way home at night.
Sometimes her vision is so blurry that she can't decipher the glow of the streetlights from the dimly lit moon, which is when she will find shelter on the side of the road, using her jacket as a pillow and shivering each time a car whizzed past her.
There's something missing in her life, she concludes, flicking the tip of her cigarette and watching as the flaky ash makes its home on her jeans. She brings it to her lips, inhaling slowly and allowing the smoke to billow out in front of her.
Granted, she finds solace in her madness from time to time. There's moments of pure joy and there's moments of pure, heart wrenching sorrow. Camila prefers to believe that this is all a part of life. She likes to tell herself that one day all of the good and bad will balance themselves out.
Unfortunately, she's known only the sorrow for a while now. Sadness had hollowed out her ribcage and made itself at home when the only family she had left decided that parenthood wasn't for him, leaving his daughter to fend for herself in their run down home just outside of the city.
So now it's just Camila against the world. And maybe that's the way she prefers it.
The worn red bandana she has tied tightly around her head keeps her hair out of her face as she stands at the edge of the roof, teetering back and forth with the tips of her shoes jutted off of the tile. She breathes in deep, watching the trail of smoke continually curve and twist into the air next to her.
She enjoys the rushing feeling. She enjoys the way her heart pounds against her chest and how she constantly has to tell herself to breathe. It only serves to remind her that she's alive.
She's surviving, Camila decides, taking a step back from the edge and crushing the remains of her cigarette under her foot. She's surviving, but she's not quite sure if she's living.
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covers ➸ a camren one shot
Fanfiction"And every cell in her body is screaming ‘touch her, touch her,’ but Lauren was a work of art and Camila could not ruin her. She’d already done enough of that."
