Haven't Forgotten My Way Home (Camren)

Chapter Four

Sometimes, there's advance warning. A scratchy feeling in the throat, waking up sniffling because your nose isn't quite clear. An achy feeling in the muscles, an unsettling of the stomach.

But sometimes, there is no warning at all. Sometimes, you wake up at 2 the morning before you're supposed to visit an important person at Lakeview House, and you barely make it to the bathroom.

And for Camila Cabello, the flu lasted a week. One long, miserable week of barely being able to keep anything down, being near dehydration. She was hardly able to make it up even to feed Jasper, and if it hadn't been for Normani and Dinah coming in to check on her every day, she was thoroughly convinced she would die alone and the authorities would find her tragically gorgeous corpse on the floor.

"You're so melodramatic," Normani had rolled her eyes that first day, seizing up her cell phone and switching it off, tossing it into a drawer underneath her coffee table.

"It would make a good obituary," Camila had croaked, rolling over on her side on the couch, clutching her stomach. "Beautiful, Talented Woman Struck Down Before Her Prime; Thousands Mourn."

But thankfully, she hadn't died, there was no need for thousands to mourn, and she could tuck her newly-created Funeral Playlist into a notebook on her desk. It had taken her two days to find her cell phone from where Normani had tossed it, and Camila furrowed her brow that Monday morning when she switched it on and found five voicemails. She dialed quickly.

Each successive message made her stomach churn, but this time, it wasn't the flu.

"Miss Cabello? This is Director Fields, just trying to get in touch with you."

"Ma'am? Emily Fields again, are you all right? I need you to call me as soon as possible please."

"I don't know where you are, but please call; I'm not sure what... just call."

"Miss Cabello, Fields here. Please excuse me, but what the heck do you think you're doing? Where are you?"

"Okay well I guess you're not coming back until your next inspection. See you then. ... She'll probably still be here, though I doubt you care."

The car squealed out of the driveway of her home, and ten minutes later, into the parking lot of Lakeview House.

"No."

Camila stared at her. "Excuse me?"

The orderly folded her arms over her chest and looked down at her. She didn't look like much of a Domme, she thought. Tiny and thin, even if her legs did seem to stretch for miles clad in blue jeans, topped with a simple blue blouse. But who could she dominate, a midget?

"I've been instructed not to let you in."

"Oh really." Camila took a deep breath, and drew herself up to her full height. Which, okay, yes, five foot two wasn't much, but she could make it work. She stepped forward with a smirk and felt a twinge of triumph when the orderly actually stepped back.

"I am Karla Camila Cabello Estrabao, employed by the Miami government, in the agency that is the Department for Rehabilitation Services. Do you see this badge?" She held it up, shoving it into her face so that she could well see her identification picture on the front. "This badge guarantees that no one will be 'instructed' not to let me in. Now you will step aside, or I will bring the full force of the government down on this House, on Director Fields, and you."

Camila tilted her head and then smoothed her blouse, smiling pleasantly at the orderly and softening her voice.

"And I'll call your Dom."