Someone Like You; Camren

seven

Lauren sat on one of the uncomfortably hard wooden benches in the small Bocan police station as Office Trisko made call after call. She was hurt to say the least. Never in the ten plus years that she'd known her, had Camila ever pushed her. She hadn't pushed her when she was afraid to kiss her at night. Instead, she waited patiently with a reassuring arm on her looped around waist as they lay together, lost in each other's eyes. She hadn't pushed her to say it back when she declared that she loved her. Instead, she gave her space when she walked away. She hadn't pushed her to come out, despite the kisses they shared and the many times they spent in each other's bed. Instead, she accepted her rash decisions and angry words. She hadn't pushed her. Ever. But now, for the first time, she did. And it hurt like hell.

The older woman knew how powerful words were to the younger. She had always said if her career didn't work out, she was going to be a writer. She knew how strongly a few words, when strung together, could affect a person.

What she didn't say, was how strongly a silence could have the same affect. Was this how Camila felt when Lauren pushed her away? Duh, moron. 

Words. She kept trying to tell herself. They were just words. But they kept coming. Attack after attack.

You killed Camren. Go kill yourself.

Lauren's a bitch.

She can't even sing.

They should've been Fourth Harmony.

Jauregui? More like Whoregui.

Her mentions were blowing up after yet another incident of the hipster letting her emotions get the best of her. She had taken to twitter to address a Camren gossip that said she should either stop leading Camila on or just come out already. Angry tears made their way to her eyes and she struggled to read as they slipped onto her phone, blurring her vision and the words on the screen. Unable to hold back anymore, she let them fall freely, a sob escaping her lips.

"Lo?" The younger girl stepped cautiously into the Lauren's hotel room.

"What Camila?!" She shouted. "What could you possibly fucking want right now?"

"I umm..." The darker haired girl stumbled back a few steps. "I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"Do I look okay?" She spat, wiping the tears with the back of her hand. "Do I?" She glared.

"No." Camila whispered. She was shaking under the green-eyed girl's intense gaze. It was like she wasn't even human anymore, just a fuming ball of fury. She was a volcano, ready to explode, and Camila was right in her path.

"Then I'm not." She huffed, rolling her eyes. "There's your answer. Now get out."

"But, Lo..." her band mate tried again, gently. The softness in her voice only infuriated her further.

"I said, get out!" She yelled, taking a pillow off the bed and throwing it in the younger girl's direction.

She knew her reaction was harsh. Camila was just as much a part of this as she was. But she was just a girl. A regular teenage girl who wanted to make her dreams come true. But at this point, the hatred was starting to take its toll on her and she wondered if it was ever even worth it. Everything she did was scrutinized to no end. People made assumptions and put words into her mouth. It came with the territory and she thought she could handle it. But management was now getting on her case, telling her that her reactions were immature and that she needed to sort herself out because she was losing it and it was hurting not only her image, but the entire group's.