Lauren Jauregui imagines - Lauren/You

Last Day

Just so you don't get confused... One of the characters in this imagine was supposed to be a boy, but I changed it, so it's actually Camila instead.

*Slight Warning*

Your POV

She's in the car. I can hear the engine, and it makes the hair raise on my arms and neck. Suddenly I freeze, my hands, feet, even the tip of my nose is ice-cold, as if I stood naked in the middle of the road. I'm imagining myself standing there, spread arms to the side, feeling the cold that sticks to my body and staring sightless in the light, that directs right towards me... But I'm sitting here in the living room, on the couch with a blanket wrapped around me and warm tea in the cup I'm holding – and the car is outside, by the driveway. It trundled closer, it doesn't have enough speed and gases up on the last small steep bit. Then it stops, the engine buzzes a couple of seconds without working, and then it's turned off. And the gravel has stopped crackle under the car. Of course you shake. It's a natural reaction, the psychologist would say. It's just about filling it with words. (A/N: I hope that makes sense)

It's my mom, Ally, that lets her in the house.

"Hello Camila!" She says loudly, as if it was a surprise; as if I didn't know they had arranged this beforehand.

Now they're talking lower, infinitesimal whispering, mumbling; mumbling about me. That is until mom raises her voice again.

"Y/N is sitting and reading in the living room, you can just go in!"

If it's anxiety or fear, I'm shaking of, then it's replaced by anger right when I see her. My hands tremble, and I have a hard time controlling myself. She's standing there in socks, and of course clothes. My mom likes her, probably because she always remembers to take off her shoes, then nothing happens to her shitty, dainty rugs. Or she just says she likes Camila to be positive, because she hopes that it will put an influence on me and cheer me up.

"Hi," She says.

I pull my legs all the way up to my chest and put my arms around the knees, when she sits on the other end of the couch. She has longer hair, and she looks a little more mature. She is older than us others. 19, but I don't remember her from the school. No, that's not true: She turned 20. Time goes, days disappear and it is over a year ago now.

Y/N has just stopped. Do they really think that I don't know what everyone goes around and says? Anything new about Y/N? No, Y/N, she still just sits at home in the living room and stares into space.

"What did you do today?"

She asks to what I've been doing. Oh you know, been on a trip in World Trade Center, you idiot, I feel like answering. Or...: To breakfast I ate a glass of sleeping pills, I got through forenoon by first cutting a little in the right and then the left wrist. At lunch a portion of rat poison, and when you came, I was in full swing on plaiting the rope, that was supposed to hang from the chandelier. I could also tell the truth: that I didn't eat anything for breakfast, that I didn't do anything by forenoon, that I ate an apple for lunch, and that I'm at page 7 in the book, my mom claims, I'm in the middle of. And it was also like that yesterday and the day before... That's how it has been, now, for a year...

Lauren, Lauren Jauregui... My girlfriend, girlfriend Lauren. You were too good, too good for this ridiculous lousy world...

That's true: She was too kind, she was too good, and she was like that to everybody and that was why, she couldn't see that her neighbor was an idiot. When I visited Lauren, the girl always laid down and worked on her red car; sometimes it was only her feet that stuck out, form under the car. She always had a filthy cream colored shirt – Camila. Camila with that long hair and big car.