Haven't Forgotten My Way Home (Camren)

Chapter Eighteen

Triggers/warnings: past abuse; violence; domination and submission; misogynistic slurs.

The taxi dropped her off in front of the mall at exactly 12:15. Lauren swallowed hard, staring at the structure with the 4 pillars at the door, before finally taking a deep breath and walking inside. She stopped just mere steps beyond the door, momentarily stunned by the crowd that was already gathering, busy shoppers bustling back and forth between Aeropostale, Bath and Body Works, Gap, the food court... Her head swam with all the options stretched out before her, and though she'd been here before with Camila and was at least a little familiar with how things worked, Lauren's first instinct was to run.

But she didn't.

She glanced around at all of the possibilities, all of the people still scattered talking with each other and laughing merrily. She could do this. She'd prove to Camila, to all of them, that she could make her own decision. She tilted her head, her eyes landing on one store. Victoria's Secret. That sounded like a nice one. Straightening herself up, Lauren made her way to the entrance.

Five minutes later she walked out, her face red to the tips of her ears. Maybe she'd save that store for later. Much later. Although that little white outfit in the corner, Camila might look goo—

No. No, she would not think about that at all.

She was so embarrassed she was looking down at her feet while she walked, not paying attention, but her eyes soon snapped up as she collided with someone. Stammering out an apology, she found herself face to face with the flower seller from her previous visit to the mall with Camila.

"Don't worry about it," the girl said with a smile. "How about you, are you okay? You're not hurt or anything are you?"

Lauren shook her head. "No, I'm fine, I'm just sorry I wasn't watching where I was going. I'm not... I don't... I'm not from around here," she finished awkwardly. "So I'm trying to figure out where everything is."

"Oh, I see," the girl said, nodding sympathetically. "Your domme not with you today?"

"My domme?" Lauren said, confused. "I don't have a domme..."

"Oh!" The girl furrowed her brow. "Well you had someone with you the last time I saw you, and when you got the flower you said she was someone special, so I just assumed..."

"No," Lauren shook her head and looked off into the distance. "She's not my domme."

It had been three days since she'd spoken to Camila. Her nose wrinkled every time she thought of her like that. Camila. Not Miss Camila. It felt bitter on her tongue, even just thinking about not giving Camila the respect Lauren felt she deserved. But then again, she hadn't exactly been respectful to her the last time she'd seen her. She still couldn't believe that she'd spoken to Camila that way, acted like she had. And when Camila had been so good to her, too. Lauren hadn't deserved any of it. She'd let herself get tired and cranky, and as a result hurt the one person who had been trying to take care of her. Then instead of fixing it, she'd just left. And Lauren had blatantly not called her in three days, and not sent any texts. It had gotten to the point that Dinah had called, asking Lauren through sniffles and sneezes if she was okay – and if she was out of her mind.

She'd told her to get well soon, and hung up without answering any of her questions.

Emily had reserved any opinions until that morning, when she finally cornered Lauren in the kitchen as she made her breakfast.

"It's not fair, you know," she'd said. "I mean I don't know what happened to you and Camila, but I remember how upset you were when she didn't show up that week you were sick. And now you're not talking to her, but she's called me twice to make sure you're okay. And she sounds heartbroken. So whatever it is, I think you ought to fix it."