Trainwreck (Camren)

7. Relapsing

[a/n: kind of explicit I guess]

*    *    *    *

There have been a number of times that I thought I was dead in the past.

I have opened my eyes thinking I was somewhere else, not awake and not really asleep either—maybe somewhere in between. Everything around me is a sort of fog, pictures and sounds don't really blend well together until suddenly they do.

And I can't tell if the face I'm looking at is really there or not.

I don't really know where I am, looking around and not recognizing anything in the blur. But I feel like I've been here before, not like the other times.

The other times I knew I didn't know where I was. Nothing was familiar except a person if they were there. But I'm completely alone.

Am I finally dead then?

"Lauren?"

I don't want to move. If I don't move then I don't have to deal with anything or anyone. And no one has to deal with me anymore. What was I doing here? Where have I seen this place before?

"Lauren, I know you can hear me." Shit. "Hey..."

"Where are we?"

"You know where we are, silly. We're home."

I take a deep breath. My chest expands, like I have finally gotten some air in my lungs. Maybe this isn't so bad.

"What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"Obviously not, Camila," I say, finally looking at her.

She's standing not too far in front of me. But for the first time since that night she's not in her usual attire I've grown so used to seeing her in.

She's in high-waisted denim shorts and a white flowing tank top. I can't remember how long it's been since she's worn a bow in her hair. I shake my head and try to focus.

"Am I dead?"

"What are you talking about?" she asks, head cocked to the side.

And as she does this my eyes land on her neck and I almost choke on my words before they even come out.

Where I have been dreading those horrible purple bruises—now smooth and pale white. Am I seeing things?

"Why would you be dead?"

"Your neck..." I breathe out.

I reach forward, perhaps the only time I've ever been so quick to try and touch her. My fingers trace over the soft skin and it's warm and inviting as ever.

And I feel everything beneath the surface come to life, pulsating, under my fingertips. I gasp quietly, moving my other hand to the other side of her face.

"Camila..."

"Why do you look so confused? Are you feeling okay, Lauren? Do you need to lay back down or something?"

"What?" I ask, more confused than ever and she grabs a hold of my hands, pulling them from her face, and brings them right in front of her lips, kissing them gently. "What the hell is going on?"

But she says nothing; she just softly squeezes my hands and looks down at them.

And I realize.

They shouldn't be there.

"Hey, don't worry. You're okay."

I hear Camila but everything is coming back, flooding into my memory in bits and pieces so fast I think I need to sit and catch my breath.