Who Are You (Camren)

Chapter 35: Sometimes Love Comes Around and It Knocks You Down

Trigger Warning

*Lauren's P.O.V*

I sit quietly on the bathroom floor.  The cold linoleum, seeped through my clothes and sent chills down my spine.  The girls went out hours ago.  They're probably all in Camila's room, laying in bed together while cuddling and watching a movie.  Camila forgave Normani nearly right away.  She said something about seeing how much she didn't support the two of us, Camila knew Normani would never try to pull a move on me.  They've even gone back to being like best friends, pretty much like it was before.  Like Camz had never even came out.  Normani treats her like normal Camila again.  Why am I the one that gets shut out?  Why am I the horrible person?  I wish Camz would just realize nothing happened.  Normani just wanted to just start shit because she felt uncomfortable with the whole coming out thing.  I want to just be with her again.  I don't want to spend another night on a hotel bathroom floor, crying myself to sleep.

My breath caught in my throat as a loud sob erupted from my lips.  I placed my head on my knees that were squeezed to my chest.  Tears soaked through the knees of my sweats, I wiped my nose with the sleeve of Camila's sweatshirt I was wearing.  I pulled the sweatshirt over my legs and flung the hood over my head.  More sobs exploded from my mouth.  My throat feels as if it's on fire.  My chest feels like someone's trying to suffocate me.  I feel like I'm going to run out of tears.

I feel my stomach turn at the thought of never being with Camila again.  I stand and run to the toilet, dry heaving and hacking because I haven't eaten anything in days.  I pulled out the scale that was under the bathroom sink and stepped onto it.  I've lost 30 pounds in about two weeks, since I started not eating when Normani didn't approve of Camz and I.  It got worse when Camila got angry with me.  I started to cry again, putting the scale away.

I sunk down the wall, taking my spot back on the floor, burying my face in my hands.  A sudden fit of anger boils through me.  I can't tell if I'm mad at myself or the situation.  My insides feel like liquid fire.  My nails dig into my face around my eyes.  I pried my hands away from my face and dug them into my stomach.  I felt blood fall onto my fingers.  I gaze down at my abdomen, small little cuts created by my nails were now dripping with red.  It left small trails down my lower stomach creating deep red stains on my pants waistband.  I tore them off, standing in front of the mirror in boy shorts.  I pulled up Camila's sweatshirt so it revealed my stomach to the mirrors image.  My hip bones jetted from my skin, running my fingers over them they felt like blades on a sharp knife.  My toned stomach was cut open.  My ribs protruding slightly.  My body hasn't looked like this since x-factor when I met Camila and I promised myself I'd never starve myself again.  Oh how quickly does a body change back into it's former shape and size when given the opportunity.  I pealed off the sweatshirt, throwing it across the bathroom.  My eyes bore into my own image.  I was disgusted but it all.  My dark blue bra looked odd against my porcelain skin.  I ripped it off my body sighing heavily.  My breast were bruised and almost all discolored along with a trail down my stomach from when Camila pushed and punched me away when I tried to talk to her a few days ago.  Also when from sitting on the floor and hugging my legs too tightly to my chest.  I looked like I had been attacked.  I was broken, bruised, cut, and scarred almost everywhere on my body.  I finally pulled myself away from the mirror.

I turned the shower on.  I stripped out of my final piece of clothing and stepped into the shower.  I run my hands over my body.  I'm gross.  I wish I was beautiful.  I wish I was even minorly attractive.  I'm nothing but a disgusting human being.  No one loves me.  I'm worth nothing.  I'm not talented.  I don't deserve the life I have.  I don't deserve Camila.  I don't even have Camila.  Camila hates me.  everyone hates me.  I'll never be good enough; not for my friends, not for my parents, not for Camila, not for the record label, not for Simon, not for anything, or anyone.

I feel tears well up in my eyes.  Mixing with the shower water they fall down my face and land at my feet, being masked by the small shower pellets hitting the stone floor I was standing on.  I saw the glistening, shimmer of my razor out of the corner of my eye.  My hand quickly snatched it and twirled it around my fingers.  It shined bright in the dim light of the bathroom.  A small, sad smile crept onto my face.  I knew this is what would make me happy.  I knew this was the one thing that would make me happy.  In the saddest way that is.  It gives me a second to feel the rush, to feel life: the difference between the living and dead, for a moment.  So that brings me happiness, for a small time that is.  Then it all comes crashing down.  As the blood runs out of my body, I feel the emptiness of my emotions returning.

I took the blade in my right hand and hovered over my left arm.  With one final deep breath I pressed the blade harshly into my skin.  I drug the blade across my arm.  It tugged on the skin creating a long deep gash.  Pain rushed through me and I felt light headed, but I pressed on.  I created 5 more deep cuts on my arm then moved the blade to my stomach creating one long deep lash across my lower stomach by my waistline.  Lastly I took the blade and slash it across my thighs making more punctures than I can count.  As I watch streams of red swirl down the drain, I decided I had nothing to live for.  With my free hand I reached out of the shower grabbing a bottle of my anxiety meds and another bottles of my antidepressants that I haven't taken in weeks.  I poured both bottles into my hands.  I sharply inhaled.  Throwing my head back, I threw the pills into my mouth and swallowed.

After a few minutes my head began to spin and I had to sit down on the shower floor to keep stable.  My body still bled out and down the drain.  My eyelids felt heavy.  I fought to keep them open, but I just couldn't.  The last thing I remember was the bathroom lights brightening to a blinding hue and a blood curdling scream before everything went black.

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Heeyyooo!  I know this is kind of short but I like this cliffhanger. (:

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