~{ELEVEN}~

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The next day, I helped Camila with some painting around the apartment.

Guess she just wanted to spice up the place? I don't know.

She said that since I was pretty tall, I'd be of good use for it.

Lauren was out at that moment cause she kept going to the NA meetings everyday.

I, however, had made an agreement with Camila that I'd go only once a week, since she was going to be helping me a lot more instead.

Remember when I said that Lauren was a more passionate drug addict than I was?

Well, turns out I miscalculated a tiny bit.

It took me a while to realize just how addicted I was.

"You don't always need medications or therapy to help you become sober again." Camila told me as we were painting. "Simple things like hobbies can help keep your mind off of them, too."

"It's not healthy to constantly think about one thing all of the time, and especially if that one thing is drugs." she explained furthermore.

I sighed. "Painting just makes me incredibly hungry."

She laughed at this. "Pffft. Painting? Really Dinah? What about it makes you hungry, the fact that it smells weird?"

"Hey, some people actually like the smell of paint. You're being very offensive, if you ask me." I teased.

I think that I realized something that other morning, the day after I almost went heroin crazy in the kitchen.

There was in fact something that I constantly thought about.

But it wasn't necessarily drug related.

"Fine, fine." Camila shrugged me off. "Let's just get this done, okay?"

I couldn't agree more with that, so I continued to paint the wall I was currently on.

But of course, after only a minute of silence I could keep my big mouth shut.

"Hey Camila?" I spoke up hesitantly.

She glanced at me only slightly, and turned back to what she had been doing. "Yeah, what's up?"

"If you don't mind me asking, why are you living on your own at nineteen years old? Not trying to be rude or anything, and I can't really be one to talk since I got kicked out of my parents' house." I asked her.

Camila slowly set her brush down in the bucket she was using.

"My parents don't necessarily accept me, that's why." was all she answered with.

I cocked an eyebrow. "Accept you? Why wouldn't they accept you?"

She looked troubled at that point, and her gaze shifted to the floor. "I.. I really don't wanna say. You might be dis-"

"Camila, look at me." I told her, interrupted whatever she was about to say.

Her eyes then met mine, and in that moment I really got a good look at them for the first time.

They were a deep brown, like chocolate. And I felt myself getting lost in them for a moment.

Most common eye color in the world my ass, because those eyes could mesmerize anyone.

"I'm not gonna judge you for anything." I assured her. "That would be pretty hypocritical of me, actually. I, above all people, have no right to judge anyone."

"So you can trust me, okay?"

Camila just nodded, and seemed to contemplate it to herself for a second.

Diseased - {Caminah} ✔️Where stories live. Discover now