Haven't Forgotten My Way Home (Camren)

Chapter Twelve

The first thing a body will require, when it has been worn to its breaking point and is on its way back, is sleep. It was one of the things that Lauren was only just starting to realize: how tired she really was. So many years of her day starting at exactly 4 a.m. had taken its toll, and so when she glanced at the clock and saw that it was only 8 a.m, she thought "Meh," and promptly rolled over and went back to sleep.

She'd washed the sheets and they were really soft now, and the pillows under her head were nice, if not as perfect as the ones at Miss Camila's. So no, there really wasn't any reason for her to get up. Not just yet. Two hours later she was awakened with a start by the ringtone that told her she had a new text message. She tried to blink the sleep out of her eyes, and read Camila's 6 words through a bleary haze.

Good luck with physical therapy today. :)

Lauren furrowed her brow and sat up, her drowsiness erased by a small feeling of panic that began to rise up within her. Quickly her fingers dashed off the response and hit send.

You're not coming?

She waited as long as she could for a response, sitting up in bed and staring at the phone for an hour, before she finally told herself that if she didn't get moving, she'd be late. But it was another twenty minutes before she could actually force herself out of bed and move to her closet to pick out the day's outfit.

It was strange, having options to choose from, rather than just a pair of underwear thrown haphazardly over a chair... or over her, depending on what position morning would find her in. Then there were the days when clothes weren't allowed at all... which was hardest in the winter months. But now she could decide, would it be the red dress with the cardigan, or the leather jacket with a tee and a pair of comfy blue jeans? Since she was going to therapy... she reached in and plucked out the jeans and the tee.

Lauren was surprised to notice that she was smiling. It seemed stupid to smile over something like choosing your own clothes.

But she smiled anyway.

There seemed to be so many things for her to decide now... breakfast was the simplest. Cereal, she thought, rummaging through Emily's cabinets to find what she wanted. Emily had already left for the House, Lauren assumed, and it was nice, just to sit on the couch with her legs sprawled out, relaxed against the pillows as she waited for the Lucky Charms sugar rush to take hold. She giggled, for a split second feeling like a fifteen year old again, before... before everything changed.

The walk to the House was short, but not short enough that Lauren felt comfortable actually walking it. Luckily there was a concrete pathway from Emily's front door to the back door of the House, and Lauren's chair was already sitting outside, with no steps for her to navigate to it. She sat in the chair but didn't move at first; instead, Lauren simply just sat.

It was a pleasant morning, not too cold and not yet too hot; the birds were still singing and flying here and there, their wings bright flashes against the mid-morning sky. Lauren found herself wondering about them, if they were bringing food to their children or perhaps to their "husband" or "wife"; she watched them eagerly, taking in their every movement and listening to their casual back and forth song. She wondered what it would be like, to be one of those birds: free to go wherever, whenever, but every time returning to the same place. And not because they had to, but because they wanted to. The birds were bound by choice, not by birth or decree, and for a moment, Lauren envied them.

She thought about Miss Camila, then, resting the cell phone on her lap as she slowly wheeled herself towards the House, taking her time so she wouldn't miss a minute of everything around her outside: the grass on either side of her; the trees that shaded her with their branches, the apples they dropped as food for the insects, the squirrels, the rabbits. What would it be like, she asked herself, to be free forever? To never have to answer to another person? No rules, no chance to break them. No punishment, no pain.