End of the Day

6:54 am (day 623)

Three days.

Lauren didn't realize later had meant three days.

Camila had tucked food and water in Lauren's pack before leaving; she'd known she was going to be gone for a considerable amount of time, and she hadn't thought to warn Lauren. Or—just a random thought—she could've let her go.

But there was nothing she could do, at this point. Her wrist had swollen up to the point that it throbbed against the cuff, though the pain had died down by now. She was sure she hadn't moved other than to take care of the basic necessities Camila had provided. And any time she hadn't dedicated to that was spent staring at the ceiling, sleepless and alone, with nothing but her stuffed tiger and her thoughts.

And waiting. Lots of waiting.

Lauren finds herself going mad in the silence. She shifts every now and then to clear her mind with the clink of the cuffs on the metal leg of the chair, otherwise relying on her mumbled counting as she tries to remain calm. The third day is starting to get dark, and she can't tell if she's worried for Camila or worried someone else would find her and she wouldn't be able to escape.

What feels like hours passes. The darkness surrounding her grows.

Then, as if her prayers have been answered, the welcome sound of the door slamming shut fills Lauren's ears. She sits up sharply, staring at the spot Camila had entered through before. Lauren feels her throat close up in anxious anticipation.

It isn't until a bloody and panting Camila appears that she lets out a sigh of relief, her muscles relaxing.

"Where the hell have you been?" Lauren pushes the concern for Camila's state down, not wanting to have it seem as if she actually cares, "I thought you were dead and I'd have to saw my arm off to survive."

"You don't... have... the medical supplies to survive the... removal of your arm," Camila pants, dropping aggressively onto her bed. She searches frantically for a bottle of water, consuming the entirely of it in (practically) less than a second.

"What happened?" Lauren asks carefully.

Camila glances up at her briefly, grabbing a towel and using some water to dampen it. She tears a portion of her pants away from the wound, lifting the rag and wiping the blood from her body. To Lauren's relief, most of it doesn't appear to be Camila's blood, save for the cut on her calf, "An animal attacked me. Then I got lost."

"Lost? How the hell did you get lost?" Lauren asks, though most of her attention is focused on the way Camila is treating her wound... she winces, her hands itching to help.

"I'm not from around here, okay?" Camila grunts, "My family lived outside the city—" The end of her sentence cuts off with a sudden hiss.

Lauren sighs, knowing she can't let her captor die from infection or she'll be stuck here for the rest of her already shortened life, "You're... come here. You're not treating that correctly," She voices her thoughts, noting the skepticism in Camila's eyes as she slowly lowers the towel, "I'm not going to kill you or anything, idiot. I just don't want you to die. Someone's gotta feed me."

Lauren lifts her cuffed hand for emphasis, raising her brows at the other girl.

Camila begrudgingly hands Lauren the towel, moving to sit beside her. Lauren examines the wound up close, dabbing at it gently and asking Camila for any alcohol she may have available. Camila pulls a bottle from her first aid kit, handing it to Lauren and letting her get to work.

"So, why'd you come to the city?" Lauren makes small talk to distract her as she pours the alcohol over the wound.

Camila squeezes her eyes shut, her reply coming out a beat later, "I got into an accident. They had to fly me to the hospital here in a helicopter."