let this love die ➸ camren oneshots

Camisado

Warning: Abuse / Violence

Prompt: "Camila is being abused by her dad. Lauren then comes over after he beat her up and helps her and takes her to her house." - Anon

The scent of alcohol filled the small apartment that Camila lived in. She wouldn't dare call it her home. Home was a place where a person was meant to feel safe with their surroundings, a place they lived with their family and loved ones. Camila had no family. Her mother fled with her older sisters when Camila was younger, for the exact reason Camila feared her home so much.

Camila hid in her room, in the corner, where she hoped that he wouldn't be able to find her. She had an arm wrapped around her knees, and her other arm was covering her face, somehow believing that if she couldn't see him, he wouldn't be able to see her. Her headphones were in her ears, almost deafeningly loud so she could drown out her fathers' shouting.

"Camila! Get me a beer!"

She couldn't hear him, she was purposely not listening to him. She wanted to run, and leave the apartment forever so that he couldn't hurt her anymore. Camila wanted to tell her friends, so that they could help her out of this situation. But she never had the courage to do such a thing. She was scared that if people found out, he would hurt her even more than he already did on a daily basis.

"Camila! Did you hear me!?"

Imagine if your friends knew about how you got your bruises and contusions. They'd think you were pathetic for not getting help earlier. And they'll think you're pathetic because you're stuck with a stupid broken family, and an alcoholic father who... Camila's train of thought was interrupted by a loud shatter against her bedroom wall, right in front of her. Shards of a beer bottle scattered across the ground in front of her, some larger shards only just missing her feet.

Camila stayed hidden in her corner, hoping that he wouldn't be able to find her hiding beside her bed. But the strong grip on her hair made her guts drop. She was yanked to the other side of the bed and thrown against the floor. Her head smashed against the ground, and she thanked the lord that there was carpet or else she'd have a terrible concussion later.

"Did you hear me, Camila? I said, get me a beer!" her father growled, kicking her harshly in the shins with his steel-capped boots.

She managed to get on her hands and knees, she shook her head, "No, I'm sorry, papi, I was listening to music. I didn't hear you. I'll get one for you—"

His boot collided with the side of Camila's face, sending her backwards into the corner of the door. She hit her head against the sharp corner and yelped like a dog being kicked, "It's a bit late for that, you useless bitch," he growled. Camila didn't know what was worse. The physical pain, or the fact her father thought she was so damn useless. She let the tears roll down her face, though she hated to let him know that he scared her, "Don't cry like a fucking baby. Get up," he said, kicking her head against the wall again.

"Papi, you're drunk," she mumbled, trying to lift herself up, only to find her fingers crushed by her fathers' feet, "P-please... leave me alone!" She cried, pulling her fingers from beneath his work boots. Her knuckles were slightly grazed after pulling them away from the hard grip. She got up and quickly crawled towards the kitchen, hoping he'd just leave her alone. But he followed her there, "Just go away! I'll get you a beer!" She cried, weakly helping herself to her feet and opening the fridge. She got a beer out and handed it to her father, who smelled awful and a lot like vodka, "Here! Are you happy now?!"

"I'm going out drinking. Take the fucking beer," he muttered, raising his arm and hitting her over the head with the bottle. It only skimmed the top of her head, she was smart enough to duck before he could give her a full blow. He dropped the bottle and it fell onto her knee, causing her to curse and crawl into the corner of the kitchen, "Don't expect me to be home any time soon, useless child," he muttered, exiting the room.