𝐍𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘, 𝐍𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄 - kiara carrera²

𝒙𝒙𝒊. 𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔

"IT'S THREE O'CLOCK, WHY AREN'T THEY HERE YET?"

Right leg bouncing up and down, left eye twitching side to side, Tatum stared at the front door with desperation. It was the first time she had properly been able to discover the mansion. Since she arrived there, all meals had been eaten in bed, and there was a special lock on the bedroom door, forbidding her to leave.

But today she was allowed all the way into the living room, with the supervision of guards, of course. Because today was seventy two hours since she woke up in the psych was, which meant today was the day she seen Baby TJ again. However, the times they were allowed to come were between ten and three, and Heyward still had yet to arrive.

She waited. Sitting on that long, velvet couch, she waited for hours, until the grips on her neon socks sunk through her feet in the most uncomfortable way.

Beside her, Carla Limbrey frowned. "Maybe they forgotten," she suggested, almost as if she actually felt sorry for the girl. Her daughter.

Tatum shook her head, her brows knotted together. "Heyward doesn't forget anything. Ever." She wasn't sure how much longer she could stay conscious. Each day it was like her meds were getting stronger and stronger. Like she was going loopier and loopier. They didn't work, either. She still had occasional panic attacks, she still went through mood swings, she was still being attacked by her own mind and its orders - the only thing these drugs got rid of was her ADHD, which was probably her favourite thing about herself.

The door opened and her head turned up without warning, expecting to see her dad, expecting to see TJ, expecting to see JJ, expecting to see Pope, expecting to see Kiara. Because even though they weren't on the greatest terms, they still cared about her, right? They still loved her? RIGHT?

Instead, the only person walking through that door was the plague named Cameron Limbrey. After she hit and threatened him yesterday, he left her alone for the rest of the night. She hated him. She couldn't stand him. Thomas. Thomas was the only twin brother she had ever had. She and him were the twins. They were never triplets, not really. And this random boy was definitely not her twin. Not Thomas' replacement. "Your friends not here yet?" he asked kindly with a nod, taking off his private school's burgundy blazer.

Tatum smiled back at him fakely and pointed at the air in front of her. "Yeah, meet Elizabeth Roones."

Cameron chucked, shaking his head, trying his hardest to ignore the girl's glare. His mom told him he had to be nice to her, no matter what, no matter how rude or scary she was, but he never thought it could be so hard to not argue back. "I guess we better add schizophrenia to your list, then, shall we?" he tried to joke.

"Maybe your friends just don't really like you," said Uncle Renfield, his eyes on the 98" flatscreen on the wall.

Clenching her jaw and scratching her hands anxiously, Tatum shook her head. No, no, that wasn't true. They did like her. They wanted to see her. Heyward wouldn't keep the baby from her. JJ wouldn't leave her. Sarah wouldn't ignore her. Pope wouldn't stop caring, even after the argument. Kiara wouldn't stop loving her...right?

Maybe. Maybe it was true. Maybe they didn't like her. Maybe the only reason they pretended to was because they were scared. It wasn't anything they hadn't done before. Yeah. They were scared of her because she was a complete nutcase, and now they had finally gotten rid of her. They didn't want her anymore. They didn't feel like they had to anymore. Because now she'd was gone, and they weren't at risk of her going psycho and killing them all.

But she would never hurt them. Even if her mind was running wild and screaming at her to do things, even if she imagined herself doing it every single night before sleeping, she would never, ever put a pouge in harms way. After all the drama all those months ago, she thought they had realised that. That they trusted her. Clearly, it was all just an act.

With a polite smile, Carla danced across the long room to lock up the door before the manic girl was put at risk of leaving. "Well, since you're downstairs now, we could always watch a movie," she suggested kindly, sitting beside her daughter and squeezing her hand.

Tatum shook her head, the light touch of the woman causing her to feel pulsing all over her body. Her blood thumping through her ears. She was weak. Really weak.

"No, no, no, you must," Carla pressed, looking back at her son with eagerness and excitement. "Remember how we used to watch Brave and you named the triplets Tatum, Thomas and Tilly? Back in the day, at least."

Hearing her brothers name, Tatum turned to the woman with a hard glare. How dare she. How dare she talk about Thomas like she wasn't the reason he was dead. If she had just gave the tiniest little shit about her other two children, he'd still be there. Alive. Happy. With a boyfriend. But no. He was dead. And it was because of that woman.

Hearing his old name being spoken, Cameron turned to his mother with a hard glare. How dare she. How dare she still talk about that name. It was different when she got his pronouns jumbled up at the very start, claiming she had forgotten, but going out and talking about the person he never was? She was evil. Actually evil. Tatum might've had it much worse by living under the same roof as her rapist, but he went through all this emotional abuse and manipulation his whole life. His mom telling him who he was, his mom calling him his old name at all the parties, his mom telling his therapist that she couldn't deal with his transition, his mom caring more about his reputation than him. He was so sick of it now. He knew what she said today wasn't all that bad, but he knew that bringing up the old, happy memories wasn't her intention at all. She used any chance she had to bring up the dead, suicidal daughter she had raised.

"I'm going to bed," Tatum announced tiredly, standing up and instantly wobbling out of balance on her limp legs. When she tried walking on, she only fell.

Cameron furrowed his brows. He studied chemistry almost 24/7, and the psychotic meds she was apparently on had no side effect like this. He turned to his mom with question, but she didn't look back. She looked on at her daughter - the daughter she left behind all those years ago - and smiled gravely as the team of nurses crowded and fussed over her.

a/n: this is the earliest ive ever updated

FUCK CARLA LIMBREY