Chapter Eight

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Chapter Eight

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Three weeks later

Camila sits on the guard tower, a lit joint between her lips as she tries to forget everything.

She saw Clarke sitting by a fire with her mother. She watched the blonde. The older girl seemed to be drawing in the scratch pad she had given her.

After a moment, Clarke got up and slowly made her way to the guard tower. She got up and handed a picture to Camila. "That's you." Clarke whispered.

"You have an amazing talent." Camila responds, taking another hit of the joint.

Clarke smiled shyly. "Thanks."

Smiling back, Camila shifts and focuses her attention on the stars. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm here." She says, not really paying attention, she was high as a kite and her mind was racing.

Clarke frowned, tilting her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"Why I'm here, I have no purpose except to procreate and I'm a horrible person." Camila takes another hit and wraps an arm around her legs. "What's the point of being somewhere I'm not wanted? What's the point of being alive?"

Clarke didn't know what to say. She didn't like what Camila was saying. All she could really come up with to say was: "Don't talk like that."

"It's the truth, my truth." The brown eyed girl responds, grabbing a hidden flask and drinking from it before taking another hit from the joint.

Clarke shook her head. "Please don't talk like that." She repeated.

Camila doesn't respond, her attention back on the stars.

Clarke knew she wasn't helping Camila. She could barely help herself.

"D'you know that I'm a failure?" Camila asked weakly.

Clarke shook her head. "No, you're not a failure."

"I knocked up four girls during the apocalypse and not a single one of them love me like I love them." The younger girl breathes out, her eyes were dazed and it was like she didn't know she was talking to Clarke anymore.

Clarke shook her head. "I love you." She said sheepishly. She felt like this was her fault.

She doesn't receive a response from Camila, the younger girl having fallen asleep after finishing the joint.

Clarke stood on the tower, sniffing. The only thing she had in her hands was her sketch pad so she threw it at the wall and broke down into tears, falling to the floor.

****

Camila woke up to find six angry women standing above her bed. Groaning, she pulls her covers over her head and attempts to fall back asleep.

Abby pulled the covers away from Camila.

Another groan left the brown eyed girl and she rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in her pillow.

"Camila." Abby said. "Wake up."

"No, go away." Camila responds, her voice muffled by the pillows.

"We aren't going anywhere." Normani stated. "You've got kids on the way and you think it's appropriate to get drunk and high every night."

Sitting up, Camila turns tired eyes on Normani. "Better than acting fine when practically everyone is using you."

"Using you?" Abby frowned. "What are you talking about?"

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