Haven't Forgotten My Way Home (Camren)

Chapter Ten

"Five p.m., turn on the oven. Five-ten get everything out of the cupboard. Don't burn anything. Five-fifteen prepare everything; five-thirty put the pan in the oven, set the timer. Watch the timer. Please don't burn, please don't burn... six p.m. take out the pan. Six-fifteen..."

She was talking to herself. Had she gone insane already?

Lauren sat on the unfamiliar bed and glanced at the darkened television in the guest room. Should she watch tv? She picked up the remote from the cluttered bedside table and turned it over in her hands, staring down at it. She didn't know what she could watch. Real Bratty Subs of New Jersey didn't come on until ten, and besides, she didn't want to watch it without Miss Camila... She didn't really like it, but she'd never tell Miss Camila that.

She glanced at the clock again. 5:12. Her hands trembled.

"How do I know what to do, if someone doesn't... tell me what to do?"

Lauren's days... before, had been regimented with almost-military precision. There were two lists, broad pieces of paper hung up in the living room. Her day and evening routines. They were instructed down to the minute, each second of every day filled with the things she needed to do in order to keep him happy. Sir- His favorite thing to do when Lauren missed a detail was to lean her against the wall, her nose pressed to the papers as he whipped her, until the black scrawl that was his handwriting faded into illegibility with her tears.

"You'll learn if I have to beat it into you for the rest of your life."

She lived every day of that life terrified that she would, once again, get something wrong.

And she usually did.

But even with that fear, there was comfort. She could breathe a little easy, when he wasn't there. She knew what was expected of her, even when she was alone. Because she knew how he wanted things – the lists told her. She knew what she had to do, what foods to prepare, how to fold the clothes, how to make the bed, how to clean the bathroom. She knew that every day at 6:15, the front door would open and he would walk in. Sometimes with a grin, which would give her some relief even as she wondered what that grin meant. Other times with a scowl, and she'd begin the mental preparations for the punishment that she knew was coming.

There was no comfort in being by herself now. At Miss Camila's house, she hadn't been alone, because Miss Camila had taken that week off from work. She had vacation time, she'd said when Lauren protested. And then she'd praised Lauren for protesting, which was just... strange. But Miss Camila had been home, and Lauren knew what to expect. Coffee was always brewing by 9:30, and lunch was at 12:10. The television nearly always was flipped on by 8:45 and cuddles...

Well, cuddles had happened once, at exactly 8:57. Lazily, really, without Lauren even realizing she'd inched closer to Miss Camila, and Miss Camila's arm had wrapped around her shoulders during a commercial break. It was only just before they went to bed (11:22) that they both noticed Lauren's arms were around Camila's waist and Camila was rocking her, ever so slightly. That was when Lauren decided that Miss Camila was really cute when she blushed.

Even if she knew what to expect at Miss Camila's, Lauren also knew that the schedule was flexible. It didn't matter if she overslept a few minutes, because Miss Camila didn't get mad. It was okay if lunch was late and didn't happen until 12:45 because she and Miss Camila had been talking. It was all right because Miss Camila had been there.

Here, though... Emily was back at the House. She'd helped Lauren get settled in a little, showing her where her room would be and the adjoining bathroom, where the kitchen was and how to find everything she would need. But then she'd had to go back to contend with an unruly patient, and now...