Professor C (camren)

3 - Different

"Have a seat." Lauren offered, extending her arm towards the comfortable fabric chair on the other side of her desk.

Of all the things that Lauren finds both interesting and uncanny, it's how people manage to fake emotions that fascinated her the most. Faking a smile or forcing a laugh seem to have been rather elementary but misery was difficult to manufacture. A person cannot simply will their eyes to reflect a disastrous inner torment of a broken person. And it didn't need a Psychology educated eye to spot Camila's deceptive grins that was too painful to watch, and Lauren's guilt was skyrocketing, squeezing her heart dry.

Camila had a reputation to uphold; one that she established over the years which was relatively easy with her heart of stone. The problem with it was that, like most things, she was not invincible and if there was anyone capable of crushing her strength to finer sediments, that person was Lauren.

Camila's smile was different. It was forced; fabricated with the intention of concealing a persistent agony and residual torment that was exacerbated, triggered by the sight of her ever enthralling ex-girlfriend. Without Lauren, going about her new life was generally a breeze; a slightly stronger one that wouldn't quantify to a wild gust. The green-eyed brunette only existed in her dreams, haunted her when her consciousness could not forcefully fight her off. In essence, Lauren would only exist in a point of weakness which were in great numbers a year or two since Lauren left.

Gone were the days when she would cry herself to sleep and the throbbing ache in the confines of her skull was the only reason she surrendered to the clutches of slumber. But the pain was still there, lurking about, waiting for the perfect opportunity to lunge and never giving a break long enough to let her happiness linger.

It was only then, in all of her 27 years of living and breathing did Camila realize nightmares come alive and she was instantly overwhelmed.

During the eight years of their break-up, the Professor thrived to succeed, to be the best that there is and to take what she can, possibly away from a previous owner to make up for the void in her chest. She had become a tormentor who despised the sight of smiles, of a mere speck of glee. Camila thought it disgusted her but in reality, she was simply incomplete. She morphed into a selfish being of apathy that she had often forgotten her closest friends, her family, assuming they would turn their backs on her, too. She relished the feeling of the hair-raising fear her students and colleagues felt towards her. It was invigorating. But in the process, she was unable to feel love; she shunned it.

Camila's resentments were seething and filling her being up, if not, overflowing. But the professor was doing an awfully astounding job pretending to be just...peachy during that seemingly compulsory meeting. Upon descending on the seat before the counselor's desk, she crossed her legs and set a hand over the other while sitting in a particularly rigid, straight posture; her back did not even touch the back rest of the chair.

"What is this about?" Camila queried in a face that exuded curiosity; narrowed eyes and a slightly cocked head.

"Protocol." Lauren breathed apologetically coupled by a small sympathetic smile; surprised that her words were still and in its normal casual tenor amid her incredibly inhumane anxious pulse. It was even more fascinating that she was surviving considering Camila had taken her breath away, as well. "I know this is inconvenient. Ideally, I have to meet with new employees on their first day, although I would have understood if we rescheduled. But from what I've heard, you wouldn't offend anyone if you never did, especially not the chairman."

The professor waved a hand in dismissal, still wearing her strange grin and was successful in fighting off the proud smirk that had colonized her lips through the years.