RAGE (BWWM)

20

The following week...

I stood outside Camila's apartment, waiting impatiently for someone to open the door. I tried calling to see if she was at home, but she didn't answer. I decided to show up anyway, and fortunately for me, I saw her car parked out front. Otherwise, this trip would've been a complete waste of gas.

Sighing, I knocked on the door one last time, banging repeatedly until it opened with a loud squeak. "Damn, is everyone still asleep?" I laughed, slightly annoyed.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't hear the door," Sofia apologized.

"It's fine. It's not like I was running away from death or anything," I shrugged, like that would've made a difference. I could've been bleeding out on the floor and it still would've taken three minutes for someone to open the door.

"Camila's in her room," she spoke, reading my mind. I nodded and stepped inside. I closed the door behind me and made sure to lock it.

"How are you?" I asked Sofia, taking my shoes off by the door.

"I'm okay, and you?" She questioned politely, examining me from head to toe. "I like your shoes," she added.

"Thanks, and I'm good too. Where are your brothers?"

"Jonathan spent the night with his girl and the twins are in the room playing 2K," she replied. I nodded and made my way down the hall. I stopped at the first room and waved to the boys. They gave me a half-assed greeting since they were too immersed in the game, but I only laughed and continued to Camila's room.

"Camila?!" I yelled, knocking on her door. When I got no answer, I pushed it open.

"Really?" I mumbled, rolling my eyes at her slumped figure. It's damn near one in the afternoon and she's still sleeping. I dropped my laptop on the bed and walked around to her nightstand.

"Camila," I yanked the covers from her body, which made her eyes jerk open.

"Amira?" She croaked out.

"Are you hungover?" I took a seat on her bed and eyed the room—there was stuff everywhere, and none of it was where it was supposed to be.

"A little bit," she responded, and I looked at her in confusion.

"This early in the day?" She slapped a hand over her forehead and turned away from me. Hmm, she must've had a long night.

"No judging, Ms. Perfect," she mocked. I only sighed and stood up. I'm not judging Camila, but sometimes I do expect more from her. Her crazy ass doesn't know when to stop, and she certainly doesn't know when it's time to give her liver a break. I know she has a lot on her plate right now, but drowning herself in liquor all the damn time will not solve her problems.

"I'm not judging you, Camila, but I wish you would do better," I said, adjusting the blinds to let some natural light seep through.

"And how is that not judging me?" She groaned.

"Because I genuinely care about your well-being, and I wouldn't be a decent friend if I praised your destructive behavior." I gathered her clothes off the floor and dumped them on the bed, not sure if they were clean or dirty. I then found her hamper in the closet and decided to wash everything, including her sheets.

"Camila," I called her name once I noticed her drifting off to sleep.

"Huh?"

I dropped the basket by the bed and stormed over to her. "Get up," I grabbed a fistful of her shirt and pulled her to the edge of the bed.

"Let's take a shower." I struggled to get her to her feet, but when I did, I dragged her over to the door and took her into the hallway where I knew the bathroom was. I turned on the light and quickly started the water.