Death of Me • Camren

Four

Warning: mention of alcoholism and suicide

The more Lauren tried to get close to Camila, the more the younger girl pulled away. Now, it seems as thought they were further apart than ever.

It was a terrible feeling.

When someone you once considered a best friend didn't want anything to do with you. And it wasn't like Lauren was assuming, because Camila had literally told her that she "didn't want anything to do with someone who can't even send a text, and then randomly shows up five years later like nothing happened."

Because Camila still kept the same number, and Camila sent an uncountable number of messages to Lauren, without so much as one word in return. And even though Lauren explained to her that her controlling parents took away her phone, and her laptop, and only left her with a suitcase full of clothes, Camila didn't want to hear it. She was only focused on the fact that Lauren didn't try harder.

She tried hard enough.

Camila doesn't know how many times Lauren went back to their once shared apartment complex. How many times she made it to Camila's hallway only to sprint back down the stairs. She doesn't know that Lauren would often spend hours in front of that building, trying to gain enough courage to go see her.

Camila doesn't know that Lauren can barely sleep at night, consumed in thoughts of how life would be had she just not been a fucking coward.

But, how could she? Even though Lauren wanted to spill every emotion, desire, or dream she had whenever she saw Camila, she never would.

It was a terrifying feeling.

Because what she feels for Camila is so much more different than anything she's ever felt toward anyone else. Because Julia was a safe option, while Camila was....not.

Camila was mesmerizing in every sense of the word.  She was beautiful and kind and probably just as out of her mind as Lauren.

And that, that made Lauren feel alive.

On nights  like these, when she finds herself at table in her dimly lit kitchen with her fourth glass of tequila in front of her, and the urge to to stab a needle in her arm, Lauren needed to feel alive.

She needed Camila.

Downing the Patrón in one gulp, Lauren pulls out her phone. Scrolling through her contacts, she lands on the one she wants and stares at it.  Her fingers hover over the name, practically shaking. This goes on for several seconds, until she finds the fearlessness she wished she had so many years ago, and presses dial.

One ring.

Then two.

Then three.

It seemed like an eternity. Waiting for her to answer, but she did.  "Camila?" Lauren whispers. There's a long pause before the girl answers. "Yeah?" She breathes, almost as if she was waiting for this.

Lauren doesn't know how to respond. She didn't think she'd get this far. She doesn't even know why calling a co-worker was such a difficult task.

"Were you sleeping?" She asks, and there's another long pause before Camila replies with "it's 1 in the morning Lauren, why are you calling me?"