Obsessed | Camila x Reader

twentytwo

Trigger Warning
(If you find something that might need a warning in this chapter and nobody else has commented it yet, comment it here! But keep it as vague as you can bc spoilers and all that...)
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"Enough!" She yelled, almost making me drop the syringe I held up my sleeve. Almost. "Where's the rest of it?"

"I don't have an'more." I slurred, "P'omise."

"Bullshit." Her words came out twisted and snarling, and for a moment I got lost in watching them swirl about in the air. Before they could reach the ceiling, she threw everything off of my desk, causing a loud ringing to pick up in my ears.

"For crying out loud, Y/n." She sighed, planting her hands on the desk and hanging her head, "What happened to you?"

"'m fine, Mom." I frowned, stumbling towards her and laying my head between her shoulder blades, "'m fine."

"No, you're not." She retorted, "I told you that kid wasn't good for you. I fucking told you."

"Baby?" Camila's voice questions. I look over my shoulder to find concern written across her face.

"Oh." I whisper, shaking my head in an attempt to rid myself of that memory, "Sorry."

"Are you alright?" She frowns, shifting in her place in the doorway.

"Yeah." I nod, looking back down to the carpet I hadn't realised I'm clenching tightly.

"Mkay." She nods sceptically, "Do you want dinner? I've got soup or sandwiches."

I only shrug, turning back towards the window and wondering just how long I've been spaced out. She said it's dinner time, but I've no idea what time it was when I woke up, thanks to the lack of a clock in this room. After a moment, I hear a soft exhale before she closes the door. I'm too distracted with drawing shapes in the carpet to care whether it's locked or not.

Before long, she returns, quietly making her way into the room with a rolling trolley with bent legs and squeaky wheels. I don't look up until she sets a tray down before me, a bowl of tomato soup sat carefully on top. I reach out to lift the bowl, but she quickly tugs my hand away and places a spoon in my grasp. Frowning, I look up in confusion only to find her solemn eyes staring back at mine. She looks pretty, I notice, with her brown hair in a messy bun, her face makeup-free, and clad in a baggy white t-shirt and grey gym shorts, the sunlight just barely brushing the side of her face, dimmed by a set of lacy white curtains with odd discoloured stains at the bottom. Beautiful, even.

"Thanks," I mutter, pulling the bowl into my lap before carefully bringing a spoonful to my lips. As I taste the warm liquid, savouring it before swallowing it down, I look up through the window at a particularly tall pine tree swaying in the wind.

"You're... not you." She whispers as I go back for more, "I'm sorry."

I don't respond, and she lets out a small sigh. I freeze when she shuffles to sit behind me, a leg on either side of my own until she's pressed fully against my back. Slowly, she runs a warm palm over my arms and legs, gently massaging here and there.

"I miss you." She confesses almost hopefully, "I miss your smile. I miss your attitude. I even miss when you'd fight, y'know?"

Another spoonful. She lets me go back for a third before she continues.

"Maybe I just have to do something to bring you back, hmm?"

Silence, despite how refusals want so badly to slip from my tongue. Instead, I bite down on the muscle in hopes she'll give up.

"Zach." She states out of nowhere. My grip on the spoon tightens. "Who is he?"

"Nobody." I retort, letting the spoon rest against the edge of the bowl.

"Oh, I think he is." She chuckles, "He's the one in the video. He's the one that got arrested, isn't he?"

How does she know?

"Remind me again why he was sentenced to 20 years in prison?"

Memories hit me in flashes. The packet; the metal; the clarity of the sound paired with the pain it brought.

"Stop." I plead, feeble in comparison to the scream that tore through my throat that night.

"Why?" She questions, almost sounding genuine, "I think it'd be good for you to-"

"I'm not going to give you a reaction, Camila." I interrupt, quickly bringing another load of soup to my lips. "Zach's just someone I used to know, that's all."

She hums, resting her forehead on my shoulder. For a moment, all is still and quiet. I finish off half the bowl before she gets another idea. Lips connecting to my neck, she snakes her right hand around my hip, barely dipping into my waistband. Determined to stand my ground, I ignore her wandering left hand as it heads up to my chest, her mouth sucking and nipping at my neck, and her right hand as it lay still, teasing, on my lower stomach. The rest of the bowl is drained, but neither of us moves.

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Oop