she will be loved

3

"Name?"

"K-Karla-Camila Cabello."

"Age?"

"Nine...nineteen."

"Can you remember the names of these ladies here?"

Camila hugged her legs and stuck her chin right between them, mumbling every response to an answer her doctor had asked.

"Uh, L-Lauren, Dinah—I...I can't do this! This isn't even helping!" the small girl grew frustrated and hid her face in between her knees. One of the side effects to syncope was memory loss, and that wasn't the only thing to come. Lauren canes to her side and comforted the helpless girl, holding and caressing her until she calmed down.

"I think we should take a break," Ally told the doctor who soon left the five girls.

"Babe, just breathe," Lauren cooed. "Match my breathing, Camz."

Lauren was her safe haven. She went to Lauren for everything. If something happened, Camila wouldn't know what to do.

"What do you want us to do?"

"I..."

Camila didn't know what she was doing wrong. She was trying her very hardest, yet no one seemed to notice.

She shook her head, tears falling from her cheeks.

"Please talk to me, Camila. We can't help you if you won't tell us what you want!"

Something stirred from the bottom of Camila's heart. Something that she's never experienced before. Didn't Lauren see that she was trying to let them help her? Has she ever felt this kind of way?

Nothing she's ever experienced made her feel this way.

"Can't you see I'm trying, Lauren? Have you ever experienced this kind of shit?" Camila asked her furiously. The Cuban girl tugged at her IV, flinching when it fell out. She stormed out of the room, at the verge of tears. The four were calling after her but she didn't care. She couldn't care. There was too much to care about so there's really no point in caring at all.

She didn't really know her way around Baptist Hospital, so she kept walking until she made it outside to the garden. It was a religious hospital, so a small statue of Mother Mary was planted in front of a small flower garden, along with a bench and some decorative rocks.

Camila sighed, sitting down on the small bench and wiping salty tears from her cheek.

"What did I do to deserve this?" she asked herself, eyeing the statue in front of her.

"That's a really good question," a voice rasped behind her. Camila looked back in curiosity.

A boy. He looked about Camila's age. He wore a blue parka, skinny jeans, a gray beanie, and a slight smile. He leaned onto his crutches, smiling intensely at Camila.

"C-can I sit?" the boy asked, motioning to the bench.

"Sure."

The boy used his crutches to take a seat next to Camila. He set them down, lying them right next to him. "I'm Jesse. You must be the girl on the third floor, right?"

"What?"

Jesse laughed, "My friends call you the girl on the third floor 'cause we never seemed to know your name. Other kids said you were some big pop star but you seem pretty normal."

"Oh," Camila smiled, "that's weird. I'm just Camila. Just Camila."

"What're you in for, just Camila?" Jesse teased.

Something clicked in Camila. She didn't feel weird with Jesse. She felt normal. Yeah, Lauren did make her feel a way that made her heart melt and butterflies flap in her stomach, but Jesse made Camila feel different. Not the weird different where you think everyone is staring at you, but the nice different, where you didn't think something can be as calm and collected as how you felt.

"Eating disorder," Camila plainly stated, hoping Jesse wouldn't treat her any different than before.

"Disorders are a weird thing, Just Camila. But you'll get through it. Just like I got through this weird thing," Jesse lifted his left pant leg to reveal a prosthetic, then removing his beanie to reveal literally nothing. He was a bald robot.

"You can put it like that."

"I-I said that out loud?" Camila went wide-eyed.

Jesse laughed again, "Pretty much. It's all good, though. People think I'm a homeless veteran and give me money, so it's good."

Camila laughed.

She wasn't sure what to feel. She didn't know if she should feel compassion or to feel humor. It didn't really matter, though. They were so caught up in talking about anything and everything that they didn't even care what each other said. They felt as if they knew each other for years, even though it's only been a couple hours.

"So, Just Camila. Do you have a boyfriend?" Jesse asked, winking at her.

"Actually, girlfriend, Mr.Fuckboy," she remarked, making him chuckle. "You're fine with that, right?"

Jesse grinned from ear to ear, "Love is the absence of judgement, one said a wise man. Love is love, Just Camila."

"Thank for understanding, robot guy."

"Y'know," Jesse scooted closer to the Cuban," this world's so fucked up and so shitty that nobody even realizes what love is anymore. They think love is sex, and drugs, and lingerie from a sex shop. That's not love, Just Camila."

"What is it?" Camila said curiously.

"Love is where you can't stand being somewhere else without them. Love is insomnia at 4 A-M because you can't stand being without them. Love is fucking everyone else—not literally, and not giving a damn to what everyone else says and staying true to who you want to be with for the rest of your life."

Was she happy? Was she upset? Camila wanted to cry. She fucked up. She didn't feel the same way with Lauren as she did three years ago. She didn't receive the goodnight texts and the butterfly kisses like she did three years ago. She never got the way Lauren looked at Camila when she got all dressed up for an award show or something. She never got that anymore.

By now, Camila was in a fit of tears.

"Woah, what's wrong? D-did I say something?" Jesse asked her anxiously, putting a comforting hand on her back.

"I-I fucked u-up, Jesse. I really did."