TW
Lauren's POV:
Camila's been gone for two days and I really have no idea where she went. I tried asking Dinah and management, but Dinah has no idea and management won't tell me anything. I just want to know where the love of my life has gone and why she won't answer her calls and if she's ok.
She's definitely not ok. Her father's dying.
Her father's dying..
Her father's dying...
Camila's POV:
My father's dying...
When I was pulled off stage two days ago, management had received a phone call from my mom in the Mayo Clinic in Arizona. I'm not sure what she said to them, all I know is that one of those staff members whispered in my ear,
"You're father is in a..very bad state right now. Him and your mother would like you to fly out to Arizona as soon as possible."
That's all I needed to be sent into a giant anxiety attack and rush off stage. Now, I'm in Arizona, sitting next to my father's hospital bed with Sofi on my lap. It's a lot calmer than when I arrived.
Flashback:
I rushed through the doors of the hospital only to be met with my mothers worried face.
"Oh, mija. Thank you for coming, I know you were in the middle of a performance but–"
"It's fine, Mami. I'm just glad I'm here now," I gave her a small smile. She gently pushed me in the direction she has managed to memorize. She's been here so many times she knows this hospital, inside and out. When we got to his room I saw Sofi, crying next to our dad who looked so weak and sick.
He is weak and sick, are you fucking stupid?
I sigh. Not now please. There's too much going on right now.
I stare at his almost lifeless body for a moment. It's all too much. I break down in tears and hide my face in my hands. My mother runs to my side and holds me tight. She brings Sofi into our hug and all we do is cry and cry..
and cry.
End of Flashback:
Yeah, all we've been doing is crying basically. When I got here I was 100% certain my dad was going to die that night. I'm so glad he hasn't...yet.
No, I gotta have hope. Gotta stay strong, think positive.
Stay strong..think positive.
Stay strong,
...
Think positive.
....
Be weak,
Think negative.
The next day:
All of the problems he was having are now taken care of. They said he had a few months, maybe a year to live. Boy, am I just looking forward for that. Note the sarcasm. So, when I was rushed here, I had no idea what to expect. All I know is I felt really weak and I thought he was dying. Now that I'm leaving, they say he's stable. Well, as stable as he can be right now. I guess that's a good thing. And I shouldn't be feeling this way, I mean, I'm not even the sick one. Still, I just feel..I feel so–so lost and, and sick, even though I'm not sick. I don't think I am anyway. Though my mom did tell me I look like a ghost. That I'm not taking care of myself. I am thought..aren't I? I guess I got paler..and skinnier. I mean, so what if I lost a little weight, people have told me how fat and ugly I look before. Now maybe they'll shut up.
You're still a fat, ugly bi–
"Mija? What are you still doing here? You're gonna be late for your flight," she breaks me out of my thoughts. Thank you. Being alone with my thoughts have definitely proven to be dangerous for me..
"Oh, I just wanted to say bye to you one more time," I smile. Always a fake smile now.
"Well, I don't doubt you'll be back here not too long from now," she gives me a sad smile back. I know I'm coming back here, I just don't know when. I really don't want to anyway.
I think I'd rather di–
She pulls me into a tight hug before she walks me out of the building and waves as the driver drives off to the airport.
Lauren's POV:
I found out where she is. Don't ask how, it took a lot of arguing. She went back to Arizona and now I'm really freaking out. What if he's dead? What if she's sick too now? I really need to stop thinking about it....
What if she sat there, crying, watching her father die in front of her eyes?
Ok, that's it. I'm calling her again.
Ring...
Ring...
Ring...
Hey, it's Camila. Or Mila. Or–ugh, whatever. Camz what are you doing? Lauren, shh, I'm recording my voicemail message–AH!—Beeeep
I smile, recalling that day. After I had interrupted her, I attacked her with a bunch of kisses all over her face and told her to use that instead of re-recording it.
"Hey, Camz. Just wanted to check up on you..again, heh. I know you're in Arizona. Just wanted to say, I hope everything's ok. I hope you're ok..I really hope you're ok. I love you, so so much. Bye.
Beep
I sigh, sitting back on the couch in the bus. I wonder when she's gonna be back. Maybe she's on the plane right now? No, there's a small chance she is. Just..don't think about it...Ok?
Don't think about it.
Don't think about it.
Don't
Don't think
about it.
Do
Not
Think
About
It
As I'm trying not to think about it, I start overthinking about it.
Before I even realize, It's 10:45 pm and I've sat here on this couch crying for two hours. I hear someone outside the bus door punching in the code. When the door opens I see the subject of my thoughts.
"Camz! I was so worried," I pull her into a hug. Something's not right. She feels so small and stiff. I can practically feel her ribs stabbing me. I pull away and look at her body.
"Camz, why aren't you eating?" I hear her mumble something, but I couldn't quite hear her.
"What?"
"..Nothing."
"No, it's not nothing. You need to eat, why aren't you?"
"I'm al–enough."
"You're what enough?"
"I said I'm already fat enough ok?!" she pulls out of my grin and runs to her bunk. Before I could get to her, I heard a loud
Thump
I ran over just to see Camila, on the floor, passed out.
Fuck, she fainted.
I feel her forehead and it's burning hot. Even more than last time. She's really sick. In hopes of making her feel slightly better, I take off her long sleeve hoodie to replace it with a thin t-shirt. Why the hell is she wearing all these longs sleeves in this heat?
TW: self harm
When her hoodie is off, all I can do is gasp and stare.
Holy shit.
No, no, no, no, no
Why, Camila, why?
There are rows of cuts all along both her arms. They go from her wrists all the way to the end of her forearms. The words fat, fuck up, worthless, ugly, and die are carved into her perfect skin.
Why, Camila, why?
How did I not know? How? How could she do this to herself?
She's not fucking eating, she's as skinny as a fucking twig, she's got anxiety, she's got OCD, and now she's fucking cutting herself.
How much more can one fragile, innocent, perfect girl take?
I start sobbing violently, but I quickly put a shirt on her, pick her up, and rush to the nearest hospital. Which luckily, is barely even a mile away. Wow am I lucky. Note the sarcasm.
Why, Camila, why...
