Have you ever heard the term 'circling the drain?' They use it as a macabre medical terminology for when a patient is dying, Lauren had read that somewhere. It means to be in a rapid decline or state of downfall, leading to an inevitable utter failure or destruction. She couldn't think of a better term than 'circling the drain' for her current emotional state. Lauren was circling the drain and it felt inevitable, unchanging and completely deserved.
The circling starts out slow. At first she is solemn and quiet. Smiles when she has to, goes to sound check, smiles at fans, sings her heart out on stage, sits awake at night and pretends not to hear Camila crying from her bunk.
Camila doesn't speak to her, doesn't even look at her. The others are bewildered but nobody asks her what happened.
Then the current starts to speed up and the circling intensifies. She is angry all the time, she snaps at her friends, yells at Alex in front of the crew, slams doors and glares. She glares at everyone, at crew, at fans but mainly at her reflection in the mirror.
Camila still doesn't speak to her. Still doesn't look at her.
Dinah sits next to her before a press interview one day and tells her that Camila had told her they had broken up. The Polynesian rests a careful hand on Lauren's stiff shoulder and tells her I'm here if you need me.
It's as the interviewer is introducing them that she realises Dinah said Camila had said they'd broken up, not that Lauren had broken up with her. For some reason the distinction makes her feel sick. She manages to speak maybe three words the whole interview. Four days later after the interview has aired her Twitter feed is filled with comments, bitch, what crawled up her ass? The one on the end seems like a dick, Lauren looks like she'd rather set herself on fire than be in that interview.
She types out a curse-filled tweet full of expletives and exclamation marks in response. Deletes it before she can hit send.
Two weeks later, after the grief and anger, comes the desperate need for release, to be numb. She is now spinning out of control, she can feel the pull towards self-destruction, she's encroaching upon the drain and it's terrifying and dark and worryingly she likes it just a little.
Lauren is exiting the hotel they are staying in when she stumbles directly into Camila, their eyes meet and there is eye contact for the first time in weeks. Lauren smiles, meek and timid but very genuine. Camila almost smiles back on impulse but then her eyes fill with anger and flicker horribly into disappointment. It hurts more than anything. Lauren looks away first.
The following day they're back on the road, she looks out of the window of the steadily moving bus as they cruise through New Orleans. It's hot and bright and the laughter on the bus is a stab to the heart ever time. The other girls try and coax her out of bed, she refuses each of them every time and eventually they stop trying. That night she leaves after their show and finds a bar, she drowns her sorrows for hours. When she gets back to the bus Camila's cries are muffled by the sounds of own retching into the bus toilet.
Dinah comes to check on her, she rubs her back patiently and says nothing for a long time. When Lauren sits back Dinah hands her some water and asks, 'What are you doing Lolo?' Her answer is a fierce sob that stretches on through the night.
Lauren goes out to different bars every night for the next week and a half. She plays a game with herself, every thought of Camila: a shot. She does a lot of shots.
There is a moment when she is sure she couldn't sink any lower, in which she thinks the circling has finally reached its inevitable end. She is in a club she can't name, in a city she can't remember, pressed up against a wall by a guy she doesn't know. Music booms loudly and her vision is blurred, her head is light and heavy at the same time. In the dark of the club she can barely make out the guys dark silhouette.
Lauren can't remember getting here, has no recollection of anything passed her fifth tequila shot. The music vibrates her from head to toe and she can smell smoke and sweat and copper. He presses against her harder and she jolts into sobriety. His mouth is on her neck, stubble sharp against her hot skin. His hand is up her skirt, pressing intently against her inner thigh and pushing aside thin cotton.
She freezes, a split second of paralysing fear and horror before she pushes him backwards with as much force as possible. He staggers back and she makes a run for it before he can recover, bouncing off people like a pinball before she finds the exit. The door slams shut behind her effectively muting the music and she can finally breathe.
It's raining, hard, in the alley way behind the club. Lauren looks up into the downpour and heaves out a cry, hoping the rain will wash away her tears. It doesn't.
When she gets back to the bus it's late and everyone is asleep. Lauren sits outside Camila's bunk and frowns at the pulled closed curtain. She stares and stares and shivers, still soaked from the rain, and reaches out with trembling fingers to lightly stroke the curtain before quietly tugging it open a few inches.
Camila's slumbering face greets her, peaceful and content and if it wasn't for the reading light from her own bunk she might've missed the small frown on the Cuban's exquisite features. She wants to crawl in and press their body's together, she wants to grip onto Camila and never let go, she wants Camila to tell her it's ok, it's alright, I forgive you.
Instead, Lauren lets out an unrefined sigh that juddered like a death rattle passing through quaking lips. Silently she closed the curtain and crawled into her own bed. She froze in fear for the second time that night when she saw the post-it on her pillow. Please stop, penned delicately in Camila's adolescent handwriting. It was a plea, a desperate ask. She stared down at it in abject horror, disgusted at herself for hurting Camila, again and mad that she can never get anything right, that all her choices seem to hurt everyone she cares about. She decides to stop caring and screws up the post-it, throwing it to the end of her bed.
Everything finally reaches a head three days later when she is late for sound check. That night had involved Jägermeister and rock music and a bar with a happy hour that stretched into the early hours. She had met up with Brad who was coincidentally in Maine at the same time they were. Lauren didn't tell him about the breakup, she was fed up with going over and over it in her head so she surreptitiously dodged all of Brad's questions regarding Camila and plied him with shots instead.
It was bright sunlight when they finally excited and she checked the time on her phone and instructed the taxi to take her straight to the venue for their sound check. She practically ran into the auditorium in last night's clothes and makeup.
'Sorry I'm late.' She mumbled to the sound guy who gave her an odd look.
Picking up the mic with her name on it she made her way to the stage where the others were midway through a practise run. They cut off when they spot her.
'Where the hell have you been, we've tried to call you like fifty times?' Normani yelled, walking over to Lauren. 'Jesus, you smell like a Metallica concert.'
'I'm here now, let's get on with it.' Her words slurred slightly but she marched to her starting position. She resolutely tries to ignore the feel of Camila's eyes burning into her but she can't not look. Camila is shaking her head at her in disappointment.
'No way, Lauren.' Dinah spoke, angrily. 'You're still drunk.'
She was about to rebuke that statement but she could feel herself swaying on the spot. The girls were making their way over to her, sans Camila who walked to the back of the stage to grab some water. Lauren watched her forlornly.
Dinah eyed her, 'Get it together.' She whispered harshly.
'Lauren you look terrible, maybe you should go back and...sleep it off?' Ally suggested, her eyes worried.
'Sleep what off?' Alex asked, walking onto the stage and eyeing them all curiously. When her eyes landed on Lauren she look shocked.
'Nothing. I'm fine, let's do this.'
'Lau-'
'I said I'm fine! Can we just start please?'
Alex gave her a withering look that clearly said I know what's going on and also you're an idiot, but she nodded in acceptance and they got into their positions.
'From the start, Worth It!' Alex loudly told the sound guy and the music started up.
She was fine, she was okay, and she could do this.
But then the floor seemed to tilt like she was on a ship and she stumbled forward to compensate. Her feet kept moving even as her brain realised she was too close to the edge of the stage.
The last thing she remembered was her name being yelled as she fell over the edge and down, down, down the drain.