Caught (Camren)

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3 Months Later

"Why are you so nervous?" Sam laughed from her bunk.

I stared into the mirror on our vanity in the corner of the room, trying to decide if I should make any last minute touches on my wardrobe or makeup before we headed out for the holidays.

"It's been a long time since I've seen my dad," I reminded her. "I'm lucky he even forgave me for walking out without telling him three months ago."

"You had your reasons," she assured me.

I leaned forward and rested my palms on the edge of the desk, hanging my head so that Sam couldn't see my reflection in the mirror as I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to stop the images of Lauren before I saw them. For a while, her mother was kind enough to send me discreet updates informing me of Lauren's state, and for a while, I thought that she'd be just fine and she would be able to follow through on her promise of, "Just a little time," sooner than I thought. Then, about three weeks into our split, the calls stopped. The updates ended for three days. At first I thought Lauren had discovered that her mother was still communicating with me and forced her to stop, but when the phone finally rang again, all my hopes were shattered. Lauren had been admitted to the hospital three days earlier for an attempted suicide. No one knew how she did it. They didn't know if she used pills or a sneakier way out, one that would leave no clues behind, but they knew she tried to end her life after having it handed back to her just a few months earlier. Her mother called me and told me, and every inch of me wanted so desperately to find the first flight back to Florida, but the words, "She can't see you right now," were all it took to stop me. Apparently on the night of her arrival, after she'd been revived and was back on her feet- well, the one that worked, anyway- she had some sort of tantrum- a break down- and had to be confined. Her mother told me that she sat outside the room all night and heard Lauren yelling and sobbing, "I need...I need...," but no one ever found out what it was that she needed so desperately. Then the updates stopped completely. I was cut off once again. I had no way of knowing when or if Lauren was dead or alive. Now, three months after the initial split, I was on my way to moving on, but I was not over her. I still saw flashes of her every time I closed my eyes, but instead of imagining her lying in her hospital bed or trapped in confinement all alone, I saw the parts of her that were happy and smiling when we were together, and it hurt. It hurt to see her so happy in my mind and know that wasn't actually the case.

I heard Sam shuffle behind me and felt her arms wrap around my waist seconds later. She rested her chin on my shoulder and sighed. She knew. Of course she knew that I missed Lauren, and of course she knew that if Lauren hadn't ended it all, I would be at home rather than eight hundred miles away in school, but she didn't seem to care. She thought I was mourning. She thought I was only holding on because I was worried Lauren would pass from one reason or another, but that was okay. I had support. I had long nights sharing a bunk and early mornings waking up next to someone at least. I had a distraction, and even though Sam couldn't stop the thoughts of Lauren completely, sometimes was enough. At least it was something.

"We're going to have a good time," she assured me. "It's just the two of us and your dad. It'll be good for you."

"Yeah," I nodded.

With a deep breath, she broke away, placing one hand on her hip and one on my shoulder.

"And hey," she added. "You look beautiful. Stop freaking out. You're bumming me out."

She picked up her bags and headed for the door, but I was glued to my spot in front of the mirror. We were heading back to Florida to spend Christmas with my father, and that would have been fine with me had I not dreaded returning to that town in the first place. I knew the second I arrived I would be consumed by an overwhelming sadness. We would pass the hospital on the way in. Maybe Lauren would be in there, maybe she wouldn't. The point was, I had no way of telling where she was, but in a town so small, we could have been a mile away from each other and I never would have known the difference.