Our Deepest Scars

Chapter 12

Upon hearing these words from Ally's mouth, Camila was furious. She was angry that the girls felt they had the right to tell her that she 'needed help'. If she needed so much 'help', why hadn't she already been locked up in a mental hospital? Why was she still on tour with Fifth Harmony, doing meet and greets, photoshoots and interviews? Camila genuinely believed that she wasn't sick enough to seek any form of help; she couldn't see what the other girls saw.

"Help?" she half-shouted, enraged. "Seriously, Ally? What do you think I need, therapy? You think I'm crazy?"

"Mila, I didn't mean —"

"Well, that's what it sounded like to me! Normani even said earlier that I needed to go to rehab? And for what?" The small girl was getting angrier by the second, which was completely unlike her, as she usually hated any form of conflict. "You might think I'm insane, but I know what's really wrong with me. It's you guys. You're way too overprotective and you're just making me anxious and I can't deal with this right now and—"

"Mila, stop!" Ally shouted, alarmed to see sudden tears streaming down the younger girl's face. She was dumbfounded by Camila's outburst; the brunette was usually so peaceful. But the girls knew that Camila had been approaching this point for a long time.

Normani reached out tentatively and touched Camila's hair gently. The girl had her head in her hands and her shoulders were shaking as she sobbed. "There—there's nothing wrong with me...!" she cried helplessly, promptly tearing the other three girls' hearts up into tiny pieces. "I'm fine, I swear....I must be fine." Camila muttered the last words under her breath as if trying to convince herself they were true. They weren't, and she knew it. So did the other three, but they decided that this wasn't a good time to continue with the conversation, much as it needed to be had.

"Walz, please calm down," Dinah begged her best friend, rubbing her back to try and soothe the petite girl. It broke her to see Camila like this. "We don't have to talk about this anymore if you don't want to."

Camila slowly raised her head. There were black mascara lines streaked down her cheeks and her chocolate brown eyes were red and puffy. She looked straight at Dinah and nodded. The girls sighed, relieved, glad that Camila had quickly calmed down.

"Girls, it's time to leave!" A voice called them in the distance, signaling that they had to return to the bus for the night. Dragging their exhausted feet, they collected their belongings and departed. Camila was clutching Dinah's hand; the Polynesian acting as her anchor. She no longer felt lightheaded, but she felt tired enough to simply collapse to the ground.

Once they arrived back at the bus, they walked in to find several pizzas laid out on the small table. Camila's breathing quickened yet again, and Dinah squeezed her hand in comfort. Although Dinah didn't know exactly why Camila was suddenly refusing food, she knew enough to partially guess what was going on with the smaller girl.

"Mila?" she questioned, facing her friend to see that Camila was staring worriedly at the pizza, biting her bottom lip. When she nodded in response, Dinah said that she didn't have to have any if she really didn't want to. This made Camila very happy.

"Thanks," Camila let out in a quiet voice, grateful for Dinah's understanding. The pit of anxiety in her stomach got a little shallower and she began to feel as though she could breathe properly again.

That night, Camila dreamt of Lauren. In her dream, they were sitting on a boat in the middle of the sea with no land in sight. They were content and happy. But then a large bird swooped down and picked Camila up in its beak, viciously carrying her over the ocean to a small, desolate island. She screamed for Lauren, but it was no use. The girl was gone.