Riptide (a camren fic)

chapter 20: alcohol on an open wound just delays healing.

A/N: yeah it's here wow.
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It's been several days since "prom".

Several days of disheartening silence.

Several days of the listless stillness of her room. The same four walls she had been a voluntary prisoner to all summer long.

Before summer too. If she was really keeping score.

Her head is numb, overwhelmed by the gloom of the dusky light fading through her window. The entire day had gone by. Another day wasted. Withering away in this summer that feels like it's endlessly ready for an expiration date.

She shifts in her bed with a sigh, the sheets twisting at her feet. She stopped keeping track of the time days ago.

None of it mattered anyway. Not when it felt like her heart was breaking the longer she lingered, alone, in her dark room.

Dinah finally comes into view, stepping out from the shadows as if she had magically appeared. She perches on the edge of her bed, and Camila curls away from her.

"You haven't really moved at all," Dinah remarks, stretching like a cat beside her. Camila stiffens upon her space suddenly being encroached. But makes no comment. Instead, she turns away.

"What does it matter?"

Dinah groans exasperatedly. "Drama queen."

The retort is on the tip of her tongue, begging to burst out. But she refrains from it. Something is holding her back, something that suspiciously feels like the knot in her chest. Exhausted seconds flow by and she comes to the realization that she doesn't have the energy for this. Not now.

She wants to wallow. She wants to drown in her own misery, at least for a little longer. The appropriate amount of time.

"You're punishing yourself," Dinah says, reading her thoughts.

Camila grits her teeth, and pulls the covers over herself.

"And, like, yeah, you kind of made the situation worse," she continues, waving a dismissive hand.

"You're taking her side. Of course," Camila mutters sullenly.

"No," Dinah responds slowly. "Just trying to be the voice of reason here."

The voice of reason? She had to laugh.

There wasn't any room left for reasoning. Any sense of it was destroyed the moment Camila fled Lauren's bedroom that night. It crumbled the moment she stepped foot in her own room. Until all that remained was her own misery.

A gentle knock breaks through the silence.

Camila's heart seizes. Her eyes dart towards the window. A moment of hope that gets crushed when her bedroom door creaks open and her mother pokes her head around, before pushing it open fully.

The light switch flicks on and Camila squints at the intrusion. She blinks through the bleariness, raking in the worried frown that graces her mother's tired features. Camila recognizes the fragile, tea cup look without having to hear the patronizing tone.

"I brought you a plate, mija," she says softly, holding it out for her.

Camila spares the dish a brief glance. Spaghetti. Something that would've normally had her mouth watering, just makes her stomach lurch disdainfully.

She brings her phone to her face, finally catching the time. It's late. How long had she just been lying here?

"Thanks." Her voice is gravelly.