Trainwreck (Camren)

6. Purging

a/n: trigger warning

*

There is a bizarre sense of comfort that comes from being in my parents' car again after such a long time, underneath all of the anxiety I'm trying desperately to choke back.

I watch my fist clench and unclench on my lap between my thighs and then I let go when I feel my hand protesting; the other blindly knocking against the side of the door in some type of rhythm I only just realize.

One.

One, two.

One.
One, two.

I try my hardest not to look at the empty seat next to me as I sit behind my mother, chatting away to no one in particular while my father does his best to act like everything is fine again.

Every word she says goes in one ear and out the other as I look pathetically out the window for any sign of a familiar face. I mumble every now and then to give off the impression I'm not in a world of my own. But I always am.

"...and it'll just be for a few days. You know, until you find yourself a place of-"

"I have a house, mom," I try and tell her with little to no emotion in my voice. I know she means well. But I also know she's concerned. I can hear her sighing quietly in the passenger seat.

"Oh Lauren, no, you shouldn't go back to your old place."

Her trepidation would be endearing if I wasn't dead set on everything returning to normal. Granted, I know that it's probably a bad idea.

I mean, it is where I killed my wife after all. But it's my home.

I shake my head. She seems uneasy.

"Can we not talk about it right now, please? And I told you that you guys don't have to take me in while I sort the housing stuff out," I remind them and I can already see my father shaking his head.

"It's only temporary."

"It doesn't matter. I'm supposed to-"

"Lauren, honey, please," my mom interjects and I know it's pointless to argue when they're probably afraid of me even raising my voice in the slightest. I sigh this time and slump lower in my seat, my hand over my eyes, shielding out the blinding sun shining brilliantly over the hills speeding by.

When I was finally let out of the hospital, as painfully long as that took, I was hoping—praying—that I wouldn't actually have to see my family. I know Dr. Collins would find it suspicious if I never did but I cannot imagine how he can possibly see this as a good idea.

It's not like there is going to be some huge welcome party waiting for a murderer that got out on a technicality.

One.
One, two.

One.
One, two.

"And would you stop with that noise?" my dad drawls tiredly as he takes the familiar exit off the highway. "I can feel a headache coming on already." I stop my now slightly red knuckles in their tracks. I resume more softly. "Just breathe, Lauren. Relax. I don't want you getting yourself worked up."

"Why? Afraid I might do something?"

"That's not what your father meant," my mother quickly intervenes.

I know my parents are both wary—any idiot could tell. Their psycho daughter just got released and they have to act like it doesn't freak them out to be in the same car as her let alone have her under their roof.