mending the pieces ~ camren

chapter nineteen

Lauren's POV

After we'd gotten scolded for using a small ladder which, apparently, was very dangerous to play on, by a rather old lady, we decided on getting back to my place and chill for a while.

I know my mom will be home, but I'm sure she won't mind Camila's company. Maybe she'll even be busy doing something. For example looking for new job, like I suggested the other day. She needed and wanted to get back on track, and going back to work is a good step. Hopefully she'll find something soon, because I can clearly see she's tired of being home constantly. She's longing for more communication and activities.

What was on my mind though, was Camila's instant answer to one of Duardo's questions. It was so quick, almost as if she hadn't given it a second thought. Or the first one, even. The second he was done asking, she was answering. It felt that fast.

She had a point in saying it was wrong of him to put the whole territory thing in there, but I know what he meant, obviously. And what budges me, is why she denied it so fast.

She's not interested in boys. Or not only boys, from what I know. And I'm a girl. And..and I want her to like me.

Goddammit, Lauren. get your head out of your ass. You're not the only girl in Miami, she doesn't have to like you. Stop being such a hypocrite.

She must like me, though. In a friendly way, of course. She seemed so happy to know I wanted to be her friend.

"Lauren, watch out!" an abrupt voice and firm grip on my arm stopped me from walking any further. Thank god it did, otherwise I'd be hit by a damn truck.

With my eyes wide and mouth agape, I turned to Camila and started shaking uncontrollably.

It was all too familiar.

Too fucking familiar.

Memories started to flood back inhospitably and I wasn't capable of stopping them at any point.

My throat tightened and my vision blurred. I felt someone drag my body to the side and sit me on the grass.

The grass felt nice under my hands. Really nice, yeah.

Chris.

The truck.

Me.

Maybe if Camila didn't stop me, I'd be on my way to Chris.

We'd die the same way. Both of us would be hit by a truck. A blue truck.

Chris had blue paint on his clothes when I tried to wake him up.

He didn't, though.

I still tried to get rid of the blue paint,though.

I don't remember where my mom was at that time, what she was doing. Why I was the only one trying to do something about my little brother, I don't know. That wasn't being naïve, it was being hopeful.

And my mom gave up. So did my dad. All he did, was try to pull me away from his already cold body.

I was waiting for him to open his eyes so I could see his chocolate brown orbs and smile slightly, despite the pain, because he was that brave.

But he didn't.

He didn't open his eyes never again.

I was waiting for hours. I didn't let anyone take him nor take me away from him. The medics weren't able to pull me away, so wasn't my dad nor the police.