Camila remembered very little after that. One minute she was astutely aware of Lauren’s hand in her own, the warmth
emanating from Lauren’s touch providing her comfort, the interlocking of their fingers together giving her some small degree of reassurance. The next, she was sat in a barren interview room down at the local police station, a table and five chairs the only thing occupying the room besides the one way mirror used for viewing of interrogations. There was a large clock fixed onto the wall, its second hand echoing loudly as it ticked in the small space. Camila remembered being at lunch, she remembered David Johnson and his mocking taunts; Dinah’s firm hold around her as she struggled to get free,accidentally striking Miss Lovato. Camila even recalled Principal Michaels approaching and the look of concern on Lauren’s face when he’d asked her to accompany him.
“They think they’ve finally found the driver of the car that hit you.” Those were the last words that Camila distinctly remembered before everything became background noise, audible but not understood or acknowledged. Now, Camila sat in the interview room with no awareness of how she had gotten there, the memories seemingly lost to her, just like all the others
surrounding her accident, sucked into the same oblivion, the same black hole, never to trouble her again. Camila was aware of
very few things as she sat in between her mom and her dad facing two sympathetic looking female police detectives on the other side of the table.
She could still feel the throbbing in her left wrist as she sat there numbly, hearing but not listening, watching but not really seeing what was going on around her. She was vaguely aware of the manila folders on the table in front of her and that the detectives were talking to her parents. She could hear the angry tone in her dad’s voice as he responded to their words, but if someone asked her to repeat the conversation later; she’d not have been able to, her ears seemingly full of cotton wool, the noise strangely muffled and distant.
Camila had a headache, she was very aware of that fact and she raised her right hand to rub at her temple in an attempt to soothe it unsuccessfully. Her head was clammy to touch and she wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand quickly. Camila truly felt like she was
submerged underwater, drowning, her chest was constricted tightly, painfully, as she fought for breath and she feared she
would pass out from lack of adequate oxygen intake any second. Camila could feel her heart pounding furiously and couldn’t rid herself of the idea that any minute it would break free of her rib cage it was beating so loud. Camila felt dizzy and wished more than anything that she could rest her head on the table and close her eyes to sleep, but, in the back of her mind, logic told her she couldn’t, that what was happening around her was important and
she should try to stay awake. Camila’s mouth was almost completely dry and it hurt every time she tried to swallow, her
saliva more or less nonexistent.
“I’m having a panic attack” Camila realised suddenly and she squinted her eyes in an attempt to focus on the detective sat in front of her, making a concerted effort to steady her breathing, to calm down. She heard Lauren’s voice in the back of her head saying, “Just breathe Camz,” and Camila tried to obey the soothing voice, wishing that Lauren were here with her now, to reassure her that everything would be alright, that she’d be fine.
“Camila,” a soft, calming voice addressed her and Camila took a moment to realise it was the female detective who was sat across the table. She was wearing a navy blue pants suit, had long blonde hair and bright piercing blue eyes which were watching Camila closely with evident concern and understanding. “Do you want something to drink?”
Camila took a moment to understand the offer before nodding her head silently in response. The female detective proceeded to pour Camila a glass of cold water from a
jug on the table in front of her which she hadn’t even noticed was there. She held out the glass for Camila, who reached out a shaky hand to take it from her gratefully. Unable to control the movement of bringing her hand to her mouth with just her right hand because it was shaking so violently, Camila used her left to help steady it, wincing slightly as she did so, her wrist still painful from earlier.
