"... and then of course Lucy had to tell Miss Lovato – that's the substitute teacher we've had for History this week – about the test we were supposed to have tomorrow. So I have her to thank for the fact that I'll be studying tonight instead of having a nice relaxed evening," Lauren said between mouthfuls of her salad. There was a hum of acknowledgement in the phone pressed to her ear, and a quiet clink of cutlery against a plate indicating that the person at the other end of the line was eating, too. Lauren smiled. "But don't worry, Camila, I will still have time to bake cookies with you like I promised."
"Thank you, Lauren!" Even Camila's carefully controlled tone couldn't hide her excitement. She'd only helped Lauren with baking twice so far, some muffins and banana bread, but it looked like she really enjoyed it.
Lauren grinned around the last forkful. Then her eyes fell on the clock over the door and she sighed.
"Okay, my lunch break is almost over, I have to go. You just finish eating and then do whatever you feel like doing, okay? I'll be back after four."
"Yes, Lauren. Thank you."
Lauren disconnected and gathered the containers from her lunch to throw them in the trash on her way out of the astronomy classroom where she was hiding.
Almost two weeks had passed since that first day Camila stayed home alone when Lauren went to school. Things had mostly been peaceful since then. Camila could finally eat what everyone else did and while she was still much too thin, she no longer looked like the exhausted shadow of a girl Lauren had brought home that November afternoon. Her cuts and bruises were mostly healed now, and even the swelling in her knees had gone down almost completely. She was doing much better overall, but Lauren still preferred to call home during her lunch breaks to make sure Camila was okay. They usually ended up eating together on the phone.
Lauren slipped into the cafeteria five minutes before the bell. Most of the Choir club had already finished eating and were now sitting around the table – Chris and Liam gesticulating wildly as they discussed some football strategy, Lucy with her nose buried in a book, with Keana in her usual spot at her feet. Harry was whispering urgently to Hailee, his face pale and grim as it often was lately. Normani was still absent, probably lost on the phone with Dinah in some quiet corner. The only times she and Lauren ate lunch with the rest of the choir club in the last weeks had been those few days when Normani brought Dinah over to Lauren's house for the day so that the two slaves could keep each other company while their owners were at school.
Not that anyone noticed, really. There was always more than enough drama surrounding the members of their tiny club. People skipping lunch weren't high on the scale.
The bell announced the end of the lunch break and their whole group gathered their things to move to their respective classrooms. Only three more classes and Choir, and then Lauren would be able to go home. The thought made her smile.
"So, you and Normani?" A familiar voice sounded right behind her. She turned, startled, and found herself confronted with a no-nonsense, curious face of Hailee.
"What?"
"Is there a little something-something there?" Hailee wiggled her eyebrows.
Lauren's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?."
"Well, you two keep disappearing at the same times and you both come back all smiley and happy. And she's not half as bitchy with you now as she used to be." Hailee put her hand on Lauren's arm, smiling when she shook her head fervently. "Hey, it's okay, boo. I know I used to have a crush on you, but I'm not jealous, don't worry." She winked and turned away to walk to her next class.
"There's nothing going on between Normani and me!" Lauren yelled to her retreating back when she finally regained her voice. In the almost emptying hallway it carried like a bell. Several heads turned curiously.
Oh great. Like she didn't have enough to deal with.
The rest of the day dragged unmercifully, and Lauren sighed with relief when she finally pulled into the driveway in front of her house. She knew what she would find when she went inside: a spotless kitchen with the lunch dishes washed and put away, a cup of hot tea waiting for her on the table and–
"Good afternoon, Lauren!"
Her favorite part – Camila in the hallway, waiting to greet her by the door.
Camila wasn't kneeling, just standing in the hallway, and Lauren knew she only came here when she heard the car, but she did this every day without a fault. They had talked about it, she told Camila time and time again that she didn't expect her to run to the door to meet her every time she came home, or to take her coat to hang it up, but Camila so clearly enjoyed this part of her day that Lauren couldn't deny her the pleasure. Especially when she secretly adored it, too.
"Thank you," she said when Camila took het scarf and draped it neatly over the hanger. "How was your day?"
"Very good, thank you," Camila replied with a smile. "I listened to some music today like you told me I could, and I enjoyed it very much. But–" she hesitated and Lauren frowned, immediately worried.
"What? What happened?"
Camila looked unsure, her eyes set down and head bowed in an automatic pose of slave submission. "I noticed some dust on your shelves when I was choosing the music to play, and I cleaned it." When Lauren didn't say anything, confused, Camila added quietly. "I know you didn't tell me to clean your shelves, I apologize."
Oh.
"You thought I'd be upset with you because you cleaned my stuff?" Lauren asked incredulously.
Camila glanced up at her. "Some masters don't like their things touched without permission."
I'm not a master, Lauren wanted to say, I just want to help you. But she knew by now that it wasn't what Camila needed to hear.
"Well, you are allowed to touch all of my things," she said instead. "That are out in the open," she added after a beat. There were definitely some notebooks and things deep in her drawers that she didn't want Camila to see. Or anyone, really. "And thank you for cleaning my shelves. But you don't have to do it, you know. I can clean my room myself."
"I like doing things for you." Camila sounded shy, her eyes big and earnest as she looked up at Lauren, and something fluttered in Lauren's chest, warm and affectionate.
"How about those cookies now?" She asked before she could say something that would make Camila uncomfortable. "I'll just go change first. Could you prepare the ingredients? The recipe is on the fridge."
Camila nodded eagerly and nearly skipped to the kitchen.
"Did you have time to work with your book today?" Lauren asked as she sifted the flour ten minutes later. Beside her, Camila was carefully cracking eggs into a small bowl.
"I did, yes. I work with it every day like you told me to."
"So what are you on right now?" Lauren wasn't regularly checking her progress, leaving Camila to work by herself for now. That first book was mostly simple reading exercises and basic math, and Camila had looked through it and declared she remembered doing similar things with her brother back when she was a child.
"Um, math word problems."
Something in her tone caught Lauren's attention and she stopped what she was doing to look at Camila. "Are you having trouble with them?"
Camila's eyes widened. "Oh, no, Laueen. I... I was unable to finish the whole chapter today but I will do better tomorrow, I promise. I will work all day and I will finish this chapter and the next one like I'm supposed to."
Lauren gently laid her hand on Camila's arm to stop her from spiraling further into panic. "Hey, it's okay! You don't have to do the whole chapter if it's too much, and no one is going to be angry with you if you don't understand something. Just tell me if you have a problem with anything and I will help you, okay?"
Camila nodded, her voice still a little tremulous. "Yes, Lauren. Thank you, Lauren."
"We'll look into it after dinner, alright? Now, could you chop some walnuts? I'm in the mood for something more interesting than just chocolate chips today."
The cookies turned out delicious – just the right combination of crunchy and gooey. It was the first time Camila had eaten homemade cookies, and the blissful expression on her face made Lauren smile fondly. She was already thinking what delights to introduce Camila to next.
It was her turn to clean after dinner. Camila helped her gather the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, but there were still a few pots left to wash by hand.
"Camila, how about you get your book and I will come help you as soon as I'm done?" She asked as she turned on the water. Camila nodded and left the kitchen.
"Help her with what?" Chris was still standing by the cookie jar.
"Chris, for god's sake, take a plate if you're still eating. There are crumbs everywhere." Lauren rolled her eyes.
"Sorry," Chris mumbled and put a hand under the cookie he was munching on. "So what does Camila need help with?"
"Math," Lauren said absentmindedly, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on a pan.
"Oh. Ugh. I hate math." Chris grabbed two more cookies and left the kitchen.
The door to Camila's room was wide open when Lauren approached it a few minutes later, and Camila was sitting on her bed. But she wasn't alone.
"Oh wow, and you're supposed to read and understand three pages of explanations just to learn how to solve simple word problems? Man, this book totally sucks." Chris was sitting cross-legged next to Camila, the book open on the bed between them. "Just ignore these, all you need to do is use your imagination. I mean, you can add, subtract and all that, right?"
Camila nodded and Chris beamed at her.
"So the rest is easy. Like in this one: imagine that man standing there with his forty apples, and all those kids waiting in line to get a few. And then just–"
The door squeaked as Lauren leaned against the frame and Camila looked up, startled out of her focus.
"Lauren!" She looked like she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do.
Lauren smiled. "I see that you're in good hands." Chris grinned proudly. "Is it okay if you leave you two to it then? I have a history test to study for."
Both nodded. Lauren could hear Chris resuming his explanation before she even reached the stairs.
When she came down to say goodnight a few hours later, Camila was still sitting on her bed with the book in her lap, alone now. Lauren knocked on the open door.
"Hey, how are the word problems?"
"Oh, I just finished the chapter!" Camila beamed at her. "Chris explained it all to me and it's really easy now."
"I'm proud of you," Lauren said and the smile it put on Camila's face melted her heart a little. "And I'm glad you're getting on so well with Chris. I'm off to bed. Don't stay up too long, Camila. Goodnight!"
"Goodnight, Lauren."
Lauren couldn't help the thought that her name sounded different on Camila's tongue this time. Not like a title – more like something soft and pretty, spoken with reverence.
It was the last Friday before Christmas and Lauren had plans. She went Christmas shopping with the girls after school – hours spent at the mall looking for the perfect gifts, and then coffee, because really, shopping should be considered a sport for how exhausting it was.
When she finally got home, laden with bags and packages, her family was just sitting down to dinner. Lauren slipped into her seat with a sigh and immediately started discussing Christmas menu and decoration ideas with Her mom. SHe was on a roll today, buzzing with excitement. Christmas had always been her favorite holiday.
Chris and Camila cleaned up the dishes after dinner while Lauren sat with Clara, making shopping lists and a schedule for food preparation next week. They had the slaves from the garage to take care of, too, so cooking and baking would have to commence early. She was still debating baking the first batch of Christmas cookies tonight when Camila approached her.
"Hey," Lauren smiled absentmindedly. "Did you need something?"
Camila hesitated, then nodded stiffly. "Yes, Lauren. May I go to sleep early tonight?"
Lauren's eyebrows rose. "Of course you can, you don't even have to ask if you are tired. Go rest. And I will make the gingerbread cookies in the morning," she decided. "Would you like to help me?"
"Of course, Lauren." Camila smiled weakly.
Lauren watched her as she walked out of the kitchen, a little worried. Camila had regained a lot of her strength in the last three weeks, but she clearly wasn't fully restored yet.
"She's been quiet all afternoon," Clara said. "I think she missed you."
Lauren felt a pang of guilt. Yesterday, she'd forgotten to tell Camila that she would be coming home late, and the girl slept in this morning, so Lauren just left her a note to let her know. And then she ignored her all through dinner when's she finally came home. No wonder Camila felt a little left out.
Of course, Lauren knew she technically didn't owe Camila her attention, but she couldn't help but feel responsible – not just for the slave's physical well-being, but emotional, too. She just wanted Camila to feel happy and safe here. She didn't save her life only to make her miserable.
Oh well, there was nothing she could do now. SHe would make it up to Camila tomorrow. It was the weekend and Lauren had a lot of fun plans around the house that he could involve Camila in.
Saturday morning rose bright and beautiful, with fresh snow falling slowly outside and the promise of Christmas in the air. Lauren woke up first, in a great mood, so she descended to the kitchen to make breakfast. The smell of pancakes and fresh coffee soon brought everyone to the table. Everyone – except for Camila.
Lauren frowned at the clock. It was nine already.
"Chris, could you go wake up Camila? Tell her breakfast is ready."
It only took a minute for Chris to return – alone and looking concerned.
"I tried, but she wouldn't wake up. I think she's sick, she looks all sweaty and she's breathing funny."
Lauren was out of the kitchen before Chris even finished speaking.
The door to Camila's room was half open. The girl was curled under the covers, only her face sticking out. Her dark curls were matted with sweat and her cheeks flushed.
Lauren sat down at the edge of the bed and gently put her hand on the slave's forehead. Her eyes widened. Camila was burning up,her skin hot and sticky with sweat. Up close, her breathing sounded fast and shallow, terrifyingly labored. Lauren stroked her cheek.
"Camila. Camila, honey, wake up," she said softly. "Please wake up."
For a few seconds, nothing happened. And then Camila sat up on the bed with a gasp that rattled nastily in her chest. She froze for a moment, holding her breath with all of her muscles tensed, before letting out a controlled exhale that seemed to catch in her throat. Her eyes were fever-bright and scared, her head bowed in submission.
"I'm sorry, Mistress," she rasped. "I'm sorry, I'm up now. I'm ready to work. Please don't hurt me, Mistress, please, I'm sorry, it will never happen again." Her voice was breaking as she scrambled, trying to get up, and Lauren's throat clenched at how terrified she sounded. She swallowed the threatening tears and held Camila's shoulders firmly, careful not to grip too hard.
"Camila, no, it's okay. It's okay. No one's gonna hurt you. Please don't try to get up. You're sick. You need to stay in bed."
Camila whimpered, still looking dazed. "I'm fine. I can work. I swear, Mistress. Please don't punish me."
"Blaine." Lauren didn't know what to do. She took a steadying breath. "Camila, look at me," she said firmly. The girl looked at her face for the first time since she woke up and Lauren spoke softly, soothingly. "You're safe. No one is going to punish you, I promise. You didn't do anything wrong. You're sick. We need to call a doctor or–"
She looked around, helpless.
"Let me try first." Clara was already in the doorway, a digital thermometer in her hand.
Lauren got up from the bed to make room for her, kneeling on the floor by the bed instead. Camila seemed calmer now. She was still breathing heavily, but her eyes were focused on Lauren's face with a relieved intensity. She jumped, startled, when Clara touched her hand.
"Okay, sweetie, open your mouth. I need to check your temperature – I'm just going to put the thermometer under your tongue, okay? It doesn't hurt."
Camila looked anxious but nodded obediently. She closed her mouth around the thermometer when Clara prompted her to. The device beeped thirty seconds later. Lauren didn't see the display, but the frown on Clara's face told her it wasn't good. She spoke softly, with a maternal air.
"You did great, Camila. Now, can you tell me where you're hurting?"
Camila opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She cleared her throat and seemed to choke on it. Clara squeezed her hand. "It's okay, you can just show me."
Slowly, Camila raised her free hand to touch her throat, sliding it down to her chest, then up to her forehead. Clara nodded.
"Do you feel like you need to cough?"
Camila nodded quickly, and Clara looked like she was going to cry for a moment. "Oh, honey. It's okay. You can. You never have to control it here. Just let it out. No one is going to punish you for being sick, I promise."
Camila took a deeper breath and immediately exploded in a violent coughing fit. Once it started, it seemed like it would never stop.
Lauren looked at Her mom, confused. She hadn't heard a single cough from Camila's room since – well, probably ever. Clara sighed.
"Some masters don't like to hear their slaves at all," she explained. "They don't want their peace disturbed, and they punish the slaves who aren't perfectly silent, even when they are sick. It's cruel and unnatural, but the poor slaves have no choice but to learn to fight their bodies' most basic reactions. Of course, holding back like this makes the illness last longer, and if often gets more serious as a result, but it's not like those owners care." She looked back at Camila. "I'm guessing Camila had such a sick bastard as a master at some point."
Not for the first time, anger rose in Lauren's throat like a tide at the thought of someone treating this sweet, gentle girl like that. She bit her lip to stop herself from swearing or ranting. This was not the right time.
It took long minutes before Camila managed to catch her breath.
"Thank you, Madam," she whispered, when she was able to speak.
Clara smiled. "Alright now, lay down and rest. Lauren and I will go to the kitchen and bring you something to eat and some medication, okay?"
After Camila's earlier reaction, Lauren expected protests, but it looked like the coughing left the girl exhausted. She just nodded and slid back down against the pillows. Lauren quietly left the room after Clara.
"What's wrong with her?" She asked as soon as they were out of the room. "Should we call for Dr Holland?"
"I don't think it's necessary at the moment."
"But–" Lauren said incredulously. "She sounds so sick!"
"It's probably just a cold," Clara said calmly. "Believe me, if you, Taylor or Chris had the same symptoms, I wouldn't call for a doctor either. I'd give you cold medicine and a lot of hot tea, make sure you are hydrated and resting. So that's what we'll do for Camila, too. If she gets any worse, we will ask Dr Holland to check on her, but I think it won't be necessary. She's been under such a strain for so long, the poor kid, it's only natural that her body is decompressing now. It means she's feeling safe here, she's finally letting her guard down. I think we can expect some more sicknesses in the coming months as her immune system resets from the survival mode."
Lauren sighed. "You really think she feels safe here?"
"I really do. You take excellent care of her." Clara smiled. "Now come on, let's make some lemon tea. You should put honey on her pancakes, too. It's a natural antibiotic. Once she eats, we'll give her some meds to get her fever down. SHe'll be fine, Lauren. Don't worry."
Lauren couldn't help but worry though. Camila only ate a little breakfast and swallowed the pills, looking surprised, but not questioning. Her cheeks were still glowing from the fever, but she seemed more lucid now and no longer terrified. She even asked to be allowed to use the bathroom. Lauren helped her get there because it turned out she was wobbly on her legs, and then used the time to quickly change the sweaty sheets on Camila's bed. She prepared fresh pajamas for her, too, and turned away discreetly as the girl changed. Finally Camila was back in bed, her eyes drooping, and Lauren left her to rest, resisting the sudden urge to smooth back her curls. Really, her caregiver instincts were getting out of control.
Saturday was filled with Christmas preparations, but Lauren was distracted, one ear always on Camila's room. SHe'd told the girl to call for her if she needed anything, but apart from the frequent coughing, it was silent there. Whenever Lauren peeked in, Camila was either asleep or lying awake, lost in thought. Lauren brought her tea and food a few times, and some more medication when Clara declared it was time for the next dose, but they didn't talk beyond Camila's quiet "yes", "no" or "thank you, Lauren."
Clara said it was normal and to just give Camila time. It was probably the first time in years – maybe the first time she remembered – when someone cared for her when she was sick.
Lauren didn't sleep well that night, still worried about the girl downstairs, so it was no wonder really that the first faint whimper made her shoot up in bed, awake and alert.
For a moment it was quiet, but then the sound returned, longer and raw. Lauren was up in a heartbeat, running quietly down the stairs towards its source. Everyone else seemed sound asleep still.
Moonlight was streaming into Camila's room, bright enough to show the girl lying on her side with her wrists crossed as if they were still bound. She looked like she was having a nightmare, her face screwed in fear, but she wasn't trashing in the sheets. In fact, she looked like she was frozen, paralyzed, her muscles tense and perfectly controlled, her breathing ragged. She whimpered again just as Lauren entered the room, but then her voice rose in panic.
"Please, no, I'll be good." The coughing returned as soon as she spoke, but Camila tamped it down, fighting to control every breath. It made her next words wheeze out, broken and raw with panic. "Not the knife, please Master, please–"
Lauren's blood ran cold. It took three quick strides to get to the bed and then she was dropping to her knees, touching Camila's wrist and urgently whispering her name to call her back from whatever terror she was reliving.
Camila's eyes shot open, wide and scared. The relief that washed upon her face when she saw Lauren was immediate.
"Lauren," she whispered, a rushed exhale, followed by another bout of coughing quickly muffled in the pillow. Lauren squeezed her hand. It was warmer than normal, but not really hot, as was her forehead. Camila rolled to her back, panting softly, wrists untangling from their bound position.
"Bad dream?" Lauren asked carefully.
Camila nodded. In the moonlight, Lauren saw a single tear flow from the corner of her eye, shining silvery as it slid down her cheek to the pillow. She wanted to reach out and brush it dry. She wanted to comfort Camila, make her feel safe, but she had no idea how.
"Are you okay now? Do you need anything?" She whispered instead.
Camila turned her head to look at her. She was quiet for a while, and then said, very softly. "I have everything I need. Thank you."
Sunday passed on more holiday preparations. Camila stayed in bed, obediently taking her medication and trying to eat, even though she clearly didn't have an appetite. She was still coughing terribly and her fever was rising back between doses of medicine, but she didn't seem to be getting worse. She even tried to get up and "be useful" in the afternoon, when her temperature was down, but she gave up when Lauren ordered her back to bed. At least she was strong enough to go the bathroom by herself now, so that was probably a good sign, Lauren reasoned, though it didn't make her stop worrying entirely.
Camila slept peacefully that night and looked better in the morning, but it was with a heavy heart that Lauren left for school. She dropped by during her lunch break to check on Camila – only to find her asleep – and then blew off Choir that afternoon, eager to return home. There were only two more days of school, anyway, and it wasn't as if they had a competition or a performance to prepare for.
Camila was still in bed when Lauren came home, under strict orders not to leave it today except for bathroom runs and getting food or tea, but she was clearly tired of the bed rest. With nothing to do and no longer sleeping through the day, it must have been really boring to be alone for so many hours. Lauren had an idea.
"Would you like me to read to you?"
Camila's eyes sparkled like a child's. "Oh, yes, please!"
The big book of fairytales that Lauren cherished when she was little seemed like a good choice, and soon she was sitting on the chair by Camila's bed, reading to her like her own parents did whenever Lauren was sick in bed as a child. Camila listened, enchanted.
It turned out Clara was right. On Tuesday Camila seemed well on her way to recovery. She was still coughing and a little weak, but she stayed awake through most of the day and even worked some with her book while Lauren was at school. In the afternoon Lauren sat her in front of the TV, swaddled in a blanket, and put on The Lion King for her while she busied herself making dinner. She joined Camila on the couch halfway through the movie and wasn't sure what was a bigger pleasure – watching one of her favorite Disney movies again or seeing Camila's face as she discovered it for the first time.
In the evening, the Jauregui's were invited for a little get together at the garage, but Lauren decided to stay home to keep Camila company.
"Are you sure?" Her dad asked as Lauren went to lock the door behind them. "Alejandro is going to be there with His family, you haven't seen him in ages. He said they have some good news."
"No, I'm good. Camila was by herself all day and she's still not feeling too well, I don't want to leave her alone again. Give Alejandro a hug from me."
Lauren's dad gave her a long, thoughtful look, but left it at that.
When the sound of the car died down in the street, Lauren returned to the living room where Camila was still being a blanket burrito.
"How about hot chocolate and the next part of the movie?"
The phone rang just as she was putting the steaming cups on the table and Lauren smiled when she saw the caller ID, remembering the girl from the doctor's waiting room.
"Hello, Selena," she said as she answered the phone. Camila looked at her curiously.
"Hi Lauren! How are you? And how's Camila?" Selena sounded polite and a little cautious.
"Good, we're fine. How are you two?" It felt a little awkward to talk with this girl she only really saw once, but Selena seemed nice and Lauren remembered Camila's joy at meeting her slave, Taylor, whom she knew from their time together with one of her previous owners.
"We're great. So I've been thinking – do you think it would be possible for us to meet so that our slaves could spend some time together? Taylor has been dying to see Camila again."
Lauren smiled. "I think it would be nice." She looked at the girl sitting by her side. "Camila, would you like to meet up with Taylor sometime soon?"
Camila beamed and nodded fervently. "Yes, please!"
Lauren laughed at the clear enthusiasm in Camila's voice. "Okay, so it's settled. Camila has had a little cold and she's still recovering, but she should be completely fine in a few days. How about you guys visit us here after Christmas?"
"Great." Selena sounded chipper. "Send me your address and the date and we'll be there. Merry Christmas, Lauren!"
"Merry Christmas!"
She disconnected and was just about to put the phone away on the coffee table and grab a remote when Camila touched her hand. Her eyes were wide and earnest.
"Lauren... thank you."