Pov Lauren She did not know anything. I had no idea what had happened to me, but I could not blame her. Nor could I blame her if she hated me now, if she had been so disgusted and angry with me that she wanted to stay away. In the end, I asked for it, because I acted like a bastard. I could accept almost anything, but I would have to make her believe that this time we were apart was much harder for me than she imagined. Not because I wanted to have my moment of martyrdom, but because she needed to know the evil that her lack made me. Flashback on As I left The Hills the day I last saw Camila, I tried to convince myself that I would keep away from her for my own sake. "Obviously, it turned out to be such an idiotic idea, that without any exaggeration, it almost killed me. The first thing I did when I got home was to open two of my best Whiskey bottles and just wipe them out. The guilt of having done what I had just done and the pain I felt as a result of my decisions was what convinced me to fill my face almost to the point of going into an alcoholic coma might be a good way out. The task of coping with the despair my attitudes had shown proved difficult, then, as the perfect coward I've always been, I took refuge in several doses. It was only the next day, a victim of a fucking hangover that bordered on the sensation of death, that I realized that the brilliant idea of using alcohol to forget my troubles had not been so good. Ally called me a few times to my cell phone, perhaps wondering why the head of a company did not go to work in full sunny Tuesday. I did not care about the calls and I allowed myself to sink into the sadness of an ex-drunk with headaches all day. In order to escape the regrets, forgetting the stupidity of my decision to use two bottles of Whiskey as a remedy for sentimental problems, I repeated the mistake again, causing the end of that day to become forgotten in the excess alcohol content circulating in my blood once more. It was not totally stupid. In fact, I did not care what I was doing. So, knowing that it made me forget the problems, even if I punished myself later, I allowed myself to use this medicine more often. Day by day, until one week. Ally called me every day, perhaps wondering if I had finally died. I took a call from you on Wednesday, just saying something like '' I'm not going to work, personal problems '' and then hanging up. That must have been the reason she decided not to come after me to my house, and I did not know if that was good or bad. It would be nice because I would not have to put up with anyone. Not that I had to 'put up with' Ally, of course, she was my friend and almost always very welcome, but at that moment I was not headed for anyone. I knew she would ask me what happened, and I knew she would demand the smallest detail from me, as all women do when they listen. But talking about it would hurt a lot, because just thinking was painful. I would have to deal with that alone, since I had made that decision without the help of anyone. I needed to be strong and not fill the heads of others with my problems.Still, I missed her, because although I did not want to talk about what was happening to me, she was possibly my only escape valve, the only person I could share a little with. Even if it meant telling her that story from the beginning, and even though I was pretty sure she would hate me for not following her advice, it might be good to talk to someone. To vent everything I felt. All that mix of things that were already making me sick. The urge to run back to Camila and hug her unceremoniously, apologizing for everything I had said. A pounding pain of knowing I'd probably hurt her. The longing now growing in not seeing her as the days went by, not knowing if she was well. We were on Saturday I got another call from Ally. After a few seconds thinking about whether or not to answer, I finally picked up the phone and answered. "Hello." "Thank you so much, I know you still have arms. What the fuck is going on with you? "I told you, personal problems. - I understood that part. I want to know what specifically. "Nothing you can help me with." "Tell me, and I decide whether or not I can help you." "I do not want to tell you. "Why not?" I'm your fucking friend! - It's nothing important. "Lauren, I would not insist if I did not know it was something important, and you know it. Whatever it is, it's important because it can get you drunk at 10:00 in the morning. "Why do you think I'm ..." His voice is already drawn. Please tell me. I can try to help you. "Give me some time, Allyson. I just need to be alone. - Until when? You have not been working for a week. How many more do you need? I wanted to respond that the number of weeks I needed to recover was directly proportional to the number of weeks I would need to forget Camila. But that would only bring in arguments that I was trying to avoid. - I do not know until when. I've never made much difference in this company, you can take my place in a heartbeat. Why are you so worried about that? Ban the boss and be happy. "Do not be stupid, I'm worried about you, not your job!" - It's not what it looks like. You want to boss me around all the time, even if you're just my secretary! If you want the boss job, just get it. He is at his disposal. Just do not come yelling anymore, because I can not stand it anymore. I did not wait for her to answer, and then she hung up. She would be annoyed with me, I knew, but that was my decision. Removing her from me seemed prudent, preventing her from worrying too much about me. Unfortunately I was not thinking straight, and I did not understand that I was taking away from me the only person I could count on, leaving me completely alone. As I imagined, she did not call anymore. Another week had passed without my leaving my apartment. Luckily, my kitchen was well equipped, and I did not have to go out for emergency shopping, even though I did not feel hungry. The porter had already come to visit me, probably wanting to make sure my corpse was not rotting on the bathroom floor. I did not get calls, except for some of my parents. Listening to their voice made a knot in my throat almost tear up, because I was too emotional and too drunk. I missed the time when I could run to my mother and cling to her legs, shielding myself from anything that would do me harm or make me afraid. It was a pity that I had to grow up, and with that, I had to take responsibility and make decisions. I always made decisions, but ironically they all seemed to be wrong. Now, lying on the living room sofa crying like an abandoned child, I was beginning to imagine that decision would be one more to my collection of dumb decisions. It hurt, but the worst of it all was that this decision in particular seemed to be the most wrong of them all. If I were right, it would not make sense for me to be suffering so much. It would not make sense to regret every minute for the words I had said, for my actions. It would make no sense for me to want to go back in time and erase that part, as if it had never existed, so that now I could be with her again. It would be for my own good to get away from her, so why did it hurt so much? There was something very wrong, and my drunken mind could not understand what it was. *** Three more weeks had gone by without me contacting anyone. It was funny how a person could become a vegetable in such a short time. Well, it would be funny if it was not tragic. Now the guilt of having spoken to Ally that way also helped in my depressed state. I knew she was upset with me, I was an asshole.In fact, I was so incredibly capable of being an asshole so often. She was simply bigger than I was, and usually when I noticed what I had done, people already wanted to see me dead. I've always been a bit slow on this, which was a bit annoying. "Maybe I should call and apologize." I babbled to myself, and hearing the sound of my voice made me notice the ambiguity in that phrase. I should call and apologize. Excuses for Ally. Sorry for Camila. Two of the seemingly most important people in my life were hurting me. And it was my fault. I was a motherfucker. I was ripped from my reverie by the soft intercom. If I remember correctly, my orders to inform anyone who was not at home was very clear to the doorman and to all the other people walking through the porch. All right, I would not answer. And I would understand Austin later. To my utter surprise, a few minutes later the bell rang louder than usual, and it was then that I could hear voices arguing outside my apartment. Still confused, I rushed to the door and opened the door, facing Ally and the porter behind her, speaking something I could not understand. They stared at me for a moment, as if they were seeing a giant slug. Finally Austin said. "Lady, I tried to stop her from going up, but she threatened me with death!" - Do not be dramatic. She said mockingly. - You said! '' Get out of my way, or stab you while you sleep! '' That's a threat! Ally rolled her eyes and for the first time in a long, long time, I smiled. This was one of the involuntary reactions she had aroused in me, and then I noticed her longing for her. "All right, Austin. Can go. And do not worry about Ally, she's just a little overdone from time to time. - Excuse me lady. He said, taking one last suspicious look at her and entering the elevator. When I noticed, Ally was already inside my apartment, leaving her bag and coat on one of the chairs near the entrance. As she turned and faced me, I felt the shame of taking me completely. I was going to apologize, I was going to have the initiative to start a civilized conversation, but she was faster than me. "How long have you been looking in the mirror?" - Hmm? Because? "Because you're thin, with dark circles under your eyes, your face is paler than it already is, and your hair can be more rebellious than normal." I had not looked at myself in the mirror for some time. Maybe three days. And even with that dismal description of my appearance, she stood there, staring at me, not seeming to be afraid of my disturbed state. "Well, it's not like somebody's noticing that. "Of course, you locked yourself in." You do not seem to want to have more contact with other humans. That was not the case. I was not purposely moving away from any human company. The fact was, the others were too unimportant for me to even care about keeping my distance. This departure came naturally, along with my desire to beat myself to death. "Sorry to talk to you that way." I started, pulling on the subject that was bothering me in her presence. "I'm an idiot. "I've known that for some time, Lauren. I do not care about your ADP, I know that everything you said was out of your mouth. I did not come here for this, but to talk about your problem. Ally's ability to be so objective frightened me sometimes. There I was, looking like a homeless hippie in my navy blue pajamas, and she debated about my '' problem '' as if it were something probably idiot. "You do not know what's happening to me-" "Of course I do. You are in love. I was taken by surprise to hear her answer spoken in such a banal voice. Should she be so sure about that? "How the hell do you know that?""I know your family is fine, so your current state can only be because of a woman." It's actually quite intuitive, not to say obvious. I kept staring at her as if she'd just made a real magic in front of me. When she got tired of my surprise and my lack of response, she sat down on the couch behind her. - It's all right. What is the problem? Did not she surrender to your charms? This was the time to decide. I could not lie anymore saying that his assumptions were wrong, since he had confirmed at the same time. I had only two options left: Or I would have agreed, saying that after all I was abandoned with an unrequited passion, or else I would speak the whole truth. The first option seemed unbelievably easier, but it was enough that I thought of considering the second option that my mouth began to pour everything. - Is not it. It may be too, but I think that's the least of it, however ironic it may seem. I just can not stay with her, because ... We are very different, our lives are almost opposite. She- "" What do you feel is reciprocated? " "No." "Have you made it clear to her that you have feelings for her?" "No ..." "Then how do you know she does not like you?" Is she committed? "I can not keep her." "Why are you so sure about that?" - She's a program girl. Silence. A deep and embarrassing silence. "The girl you're in love with?" - IS. "The girl you're in love with is a prostitute?" - IS. More silence. I could count on the fingers the situations in which I saw Ally without reaction. So seeing her that way now only made a growing desperation seize me slowly. I knew my situation was not trivial, but its silence was automatically captured by my brain as an indication of gravity. It was more serious than I imagined, because if she had nothing to tell me, if she had no advice or word to comfort ... Well, then I was really into the shit. After a long and unbearable silence, she spoke again. "That's ... unexpected. I did not know what kind of answer to expect from her, but I knew what kind of answer I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear that maybe I should indulge myself in that feeling. Maybe she should give me a chance, and Camila, too, so that this could work. Maybe the next thing I really wanted to hear was Ally giggling like a teenager with the animation of the newly discovered acute crush of which her best friend was suffering. But besides being an adult, serious and intelligent, she was a mother of a family. It was simply out of the question to hear her say that maybe a program girl was a good choice, because they were diametrically opposed positions: Ally was the kind of woman who built a family and was based on trust, love, and integrity to keep it. Camila was exactly the kind of woman who helped destroy all this."I thought you had stopped going there ... I thought I had convinced you ..." "I had stopped ... But one night I went ..." Ally continued to stare at me, as if giving me the permission to proceed. "I saw her for the first time that night. She seemed to be just another girl from that place, and only the slightly different way got my attention. Actually, that's what I thought, but since that day I had noticed something else in her. Even if I did not realize it, she stirred me up, and at the time I did not know that. Today I can see the damage she has done in my life. Ally, I did not want to like her. I swear to God I tried so hard not to feel what I feel, I swear I tried to pull away, but the longer I stayed away from her and denied what was happening, the more I found myself bound to her. I know I should have taken the initiative to disappear once I noticed something different in what I felt for her. He thought it was just some kind of protective feeling, but he did not think it would become that. I know I was wrong to let myself go, but I enjoyed her company. I should have noticed that from the moment it turned out to be not just horny, there was something very wrong. I know I was stupid again, but ... She's lovely. She's different, she's beautiful, she's sweet ... She does not seem to be what she is. And I know I'm deluding myself with it all, I know she was just playing the part of it, but I think she likes my company too. She told me she liked ... "" She's a prostitute, Lauren. What makes you think that all this time she was not after your money? I knew she was thinking that, just like me. If it had already happened to a woman in the past, a woman who apparently fit into the same 'position' as Ally, not Camila, the chances of that same strategy being used as a form of seduction and later coup by a girl of could be even greater. And while my rational side insisted on keeping that pertinent doubt alive within me, my romantic side, long forgotten, insisted on making me think that perhaps, perhaps she had spoken the truth when she said she wanted me around. When you said that I had been the best thing that had ever happened in her life. I was failing again. I was surrendering the innocence, the stupidity, and again made the mistake that made me so bad a while ago. I was not strong enough to fall again, so I knew I had to resist any tempting idea. But there was no denying that she was equally weak to be able to keep that situation as she was: I could not forget her, I could not stop wanting her, I could not get her out of me. I allowed her to enter my life with an unknown force, and only now, trying to push her away, did I know the intensity of that force. "Allyson ..." I began, feeling myself being invaded by that familiar sadness that kept me company for all this time. "I do not know what else to do. I just do not know.I tried not to like her, but there's no way ... There's no way she does not like it ... She kept looking at me, now with an unmistakable trace of pity in her expression, and I knew she would not give me advice which I wanted to listen. I knew she thought just like me, I knew she thought the best thing for me at the moment was to stay away from Camila. But it was not. "I do not know what to say, Lauren .... I just can not help you." I did not expect she could. In fact, the only reason I wanted Ally around was to finally be able to vent all these things that tormented me with someone. As I imagined, I felt lightened by all the confessions made, although I was a little more hurt than before, both for touching on this subject and for making sure Ally had nothing to tell me. Not being able to rely on her advice left me a little wandering, because there was no difficult situation in my life that she was not attached to, giving me advice or giving me sermons. The difference was that now the subject was a little more delicate. At the same time I knew that she also thought I should move away from Camila, I knew she would not say it in all letters because she knew it would hurt me. So there was nothing left but to take sides, which only made my despair take on greater proportions. I looked at her, not knowing what to say, hoping, by a miracle, that Ally would change her mind and tell me to go after her. But she would not do that. - Go back to the office. I know it's the last thing you want, but maybe it will help. Mind yourself. My mother used to say that an empty head is the devil's workshop. - I can not ... - You can. You've been a much better director in recent times. I know you can take that role again. "I can not, Ally. I can not focus on anything. I've never felt so lost ... "" Not with Beatrice? " I knew what she was doing. She was using the shock tactic, where, reminding me of all the shit from my past and the sorrows that I went through, would make me immediately notice that what I was going through now was not that bad. But she did not understand. "No. Not even her." Ally changed her posture immediately, staring at me with a look of surprise as she looked for something to say. Only now did she seem to begin to understand that this was not all my exaggeration, and I might even be serious enough. "I did not think it was such a strong thing. I never thought anyone could hurt you more than Beatrice. "" Camz did not hurt me. "The Camz of your dream?" I remembered the day when, asleep, I'd let her nickname slip from my dreams, arousing Ally's curiosity. - IS. "How long have you been ... interested in her?" "I do not know ..." I started, hiding my face in my hands. "I do not know how long I hid all this shit from myself ... I do not know if it was the first day or the last ... I was about to start crying. Again. And having Ally by my side, serving as a lap, was almost irresistible. Still, I tried to maintain the little strength I still had in myself and kept my posture, looking nothing more than a worried woman. Inside, I was desperate, almost going crazy. Even far, even after three weeks, she could still have that kind of power over me. A power I could not deny, and it was enough to remind her that suddenly nothing else seemed so important. It was killing me, perhaps in the literal sense of the word. I no longer knew how long I had not had a decent meal. My appearance should be remembering some sort of cave woman, and my nights were extremely badly asleep. When I could sleep, all the dreams that tormented me had her presence, and it was frustrating to know that even if it did me harm, I would still lie night after night hoping to dream about her again. Having her with me, even if only within my dreams, was comforting.Mornings became sad when I realized that it was all just a dream, but still the few minutes I could enjoy their unreal companionship were worth it. The problem was that I was beginning to get used to his memory, which went directly against my main objective: to survive without it. And as time went by, that task seemed to be making it more difficult. Ally had persuaded me to try to return to the office. Not because I was lacking, since she was much more competent than I was to run the business, but for my own good. After a conversation that could be considered only as an outburst of regrets and regrets, I finally agreed with her that maybe I should have to deal with more things - as much as possible - so that my head would not find free time that I could fill with memories and worries about her being well and happy. Now it had been over a month since I was away from Camila. I felt the sensation of pain, of loss and emptiness try to subdue me slowly, and I was almost giving in. There was no more strength to ward off all that absence of life, because she was not with me. Still, there I was, attending meetings with Ally at my side, while pretending to pay attention to the graphics and numbers of something. Usually, I did not know what clothes I was wearing. I had already forgotten my craze to wiggle my hair in my hair. She left the house without any perfume, and only went through her makeup in the face of Ally's death threats. I did not care about many things, because practically nothing made sense. Virtually nothing was important. I could not forget her. It was hopeless, it was maddening, but I could not forget it. Not even a day. One minute. She was always, always with me. It was in meetings, at lunchtime, when I was going to lie down, drive or shower. I was alone or accompanied, drunk or not. It was not like any memory, which I could choose whether I thought or not. Her presence inside my head had already become a small part of me. It was like breathing. A small part of me that kept me alive, that kept me on my feet. Two months without seeing her. I was crumbling. It was already unbearable, intolerable. It was impossible to live like that, and somehow getting there seemed to be lucky. Getting to live without her was a miracle. Ally pretended that everything was going according to plan, but I knew her well enough to know that she was worried about me. Maybe my state had shown such a deep depression that she feared to see me going crazy or committing suicide after all. So I was not surprised when I was presented with it with a week off, to '' distract myself and forget the problems. "Having more free time, it was clear that things would get worse. So that week was the beginning of the worst phase of that breakup. Taking advantage of my weakness, I allowed myself to go down to save and simply think of it without guilt when his memory came to me. The first few days were easier because I did not have to struggle with myself to try to rip her image out of my head. But at the end of the week, my thoughts were so taken by her presence that I felt exhausted, and now that I had allowed her to invade my mind so often and so easily, there was no longer any way to try to push her away again . At the end of a week, I could not get back to work. Ally called me again, and did not insist when I confessed that I could not leave the house and do anything. Maybe because I begged her to leave me alone, but still, I kept getting daily calls from her. When I started not answering them, she was content to talk to me three or four times a week. The days passed slowly. I had nothing to do, and if I had, I would not. My lack of will in anything now would be taking on worrying proportions if I cared. My stock of miojo and ready-made soups was coming to an end, since they were quick and practical things to prepare when I was ready to eat something. Five more bottles of Whiskey from my collection had been consumed in a short time. My TV had not been tied for decades, and the only reason it took me to charge the battery of my cell phone, seeing that it was over, was to know that if Ally did not have more to communicate with me, she would probably find a way to break into door of my apartment and would call me names with inappropriate names.Three months. It had been three months since she'd seen Camila for the last time. Three months since he'd felt that perfume, he'd said those things, that he'd humiliated her in front of all the customers in that place. That was the last image she could keep from me, an insensitive, stupid, selfish, cowardly idiot. I was a coward. I was killing myself, and all because I did not have the courage to assume I needed her so much. I did not dare to assume she simply had me in my hands, I was afraid she could do anything to me. Anything. My thoughts were hers. My joy belonged to her. My willingness to do anything was gone with her. She ruled my whole life, and I did not even know it. She had no idea. - Lauren? I looked around a little in surprise and realized that I was in the living room of my apartment while Ally stared at me in front of me. By his expression, that call had not been the first. Nor the second. - Yes? - The door was open. So I went in. How many days had my door been unlocked? - Ah. She kept staring at me, full of doubt. "I came to pay you a visit, since I can not talk to you." I had long since disconnected the phone, and I had no idea where my cell phone was at that moment. Maybe thrown in some corner, off, while probably arching about ninety links from Ally. "Oh ... Hi." "Hi," she said, analyzing my expression as if trying to convince herself that I was still alive. I did not answer, staring back at her without worrying about looking healthy or conscious. Ally sighed, looking at me with such pity that it was humiliating. "Where's your head?" My head is with her. - I was just a little distracted. She looked at me deeply as she studied me. "You were thinking of her, were not you?" Of course I was thinking of her. I always thought of her. There was not even a minute when I was not thinking about her. - What do you want here? - I want to talk about it. I stared at her lifelessly as I waited for her to explain herself. "Lauren ... You're ... dead. I was dead. There was not even a drop of life in me. - I know how I am. - I've never seen you like this. Why do not you react? - Because I can not. She kept staring at me, but now she was wearing her serious, determined stance, as if about to give an order. "Listen to me, and do not you dare interrupt me." "Ally ..." "You wanted to be with her, did not you? Was there any doubt yet? - I did not want? She tightened her voice, making it clear that this was not a rhetorical question. - Yeah. - All right. You know that if you stayed with her, you would have to hide the truth from your family and your friends. To save both yourself and her. It is not? "Yes." "And you know that you would always have to be afraid that she could find an old client in the middle of the street at any moment. And you, standing next to her, would have to make the commitment. "I know ..." "Besides, you'd have to get over the fact that she belonged to so many other people, and sold herself to them all. "I ... I know that ..." I closed my eyes, trying to forget the urge to cry that was almost overwhelming me. Why was she doing that? Why were you torturing me like that? "And in the end, she might be interested only in your money." From the moment you trusted her and gave her what she wanted, there would be a chance you would never see her again. Just like it was with Beatrice. I opened my eyes again and stared at her, saying nothing.She was numbering all the shit I would spend if I stayed with Camila. I knew all of that, so why was she reinforcing each of these points? "Now, tell me one thing: All this said, all the suffering you could go through ..." At some point you were no longer certain that this was what you wanted? "No." My immediate reply came out with such conviction that I scared myself. "If that were the price to be paid to have her, I would pay. So I get it. I understood what that was, why she was talking about it. It was not torture, it was not cruelty. Ally was not trying to make me suffer, she just wanted me to see the obvious. There was no way to be without her. It was no use to torture me trying to forget her, it was no use pretending to myself that I could live without her. It was no use getting away from her, because sooner or later I'd have to go back to her again, just like the other times she'd tried to push me away. It was that simple. I had to be with her. I would not forget her. I pictured myself beside her, going through every possible hardship, and at no time while Ally asked me those questions I thought it would be even better to be without her. Would not be better. It would be as it was. It would be hell. These thoughts lasted less than a second to pop into my head, but Ally's response was equally immediate. "So, Lauren, I suggest you go after her." It was suddenly, but the breath of life I felt could not be described. It was as if my semi-vegetative state had never existed. It was as if I could get out of there immediately, going against her. It was such a great hope to seize me that the first wish I had was to laugh hysterically and uncontrollably. My body began to shake, unable to cope with that strong discharge of emotions that I was taking, and maybe I could have some serious heart problem. - Yeah ... I'll ... I'll ... - First, you'll calm down. - I'm calm ... I have to go ... - Lauren! She spoke in a slightly louder voice, but did not frighten me. I looked at her because she was confused, and did not know what to do first. "You have to calm down. She repeated, looking me in the eye. - I am fine! - You are not well! It's all red! Shit. My pressure must have gone very fast. "I'm not going to stay here and play your nanny, my daughter has a fever at home, waiting for me. I just came here because if you killed yourself, I would have to live with that guilt forever. Do what you have to do to try to get better. I hope from the bottom of my heart that you will not be disappointed. I know you're anxious, but please try to control your nerves before you walk out that door. I do not want you to have an accident. "Okay." Ally headed for the door, and I could feel her reluctance to leave me alone, as if she were afraid I would do something stupid. "I hope your daughter is well." I said as she opened the door. "It must be just a virus." She's going to be all right. - Ally ... - I started, before she left - Thank you. She looked at me with that angelic look, and then I was sure that her visit had been some kind of divine mission. She had opened my eyes, even though I was completely against the situation, and I owed my life to her again. Without noticing, I had walked the short distance between us, and now, I was hugging her. She returned the hug, as if it were a mother comforting a daughter.."Do not thank me yet. I do not know if this is going to end well. Ally came out of our embrace and gave me a kiss on the face, leaving soon after and closing the door behind her, leaving me completely alone again, the same way I've been all this time. But now it was different. I had a clear goal: to find Camilla and not allow her to leave my life again. *** Maybe it would be wise if I had stayed a little longer in the car, testing my breath and hoping the urge to vomit would improve a little. Unfortunately, the desperation to find Camila again and talk to her made me park the Porsche in the back street, already deserted at that hour, and walk already in a hurry to the main entrance of The Hills. Maybe I should have given myself a little more time to think of something to talk about. To be face to face with her again, after more than three months, would not be trivial. I knew I would have no reaction, so I would have to wait for her to start hitting me to move and finally to address her. I was proud of myself for being able to stay home for over 30 minutes before running to find her. I took a shower and changed, finally ceasing to act on a type of autopilot. I was quite aware of my appearance when I looked in the mirror, showing a much leaner, dark-eyed Lauren. So I took my makeup case and did my best to hide my extreme pallor and my dark circles. Now, walking nervously along the empty sidewalk, I could feel my heartbeat faster with every step. I did not know what to expect, but only the feeling of approaching her made me ill and well at the same time. Hardly because I remembered what I had done to her, and now I would have to face her. Well, regardless of being stoned, being with her would heal a lot of my wounds. As I entered the room, my seasickness intensified even more, because I had not been there for some time, and being there now brought me many memories. My nervousness, even though it was doing me harm, was not enough to make me give up what I had in mind. I simply needed to find her as soon as possible. The place was already full by then. From what I could remember, nothing had changed there. The music still played softly in the background, the lighting was still faint and warm. Some of the girls were still among the men serving drinks, and others were having fun in their laps. But none of them was the person I was looking for. I walked without trying to hide in the corners, as I searched for her in the middle of the hall. I could not tell if anyone had noticed my presence there, but I did not care either. She was not there, and when I realized that, I concentrated on looking for someone else: Chloe. It was not difficult to find her. She was, as always, being flattered by old customers, who always surrounded her while they were alone. She, as usual, tried to laugh at her jokes and look friendly and receptive, while discreetly choosing the next company of each. So I noticed that I caught her by surprise when I reached her, clearing the way and interrupting, without any education. - Where is she? Chloe stared at me a little surprised at my sudden appearance, and I saw the false smile she kept on her face fading away. - Where is she? I repeated, not wanting to waste any more time. Finally, she excused herself from the men around her and headed for the kitchen, not bothering to call me to accompany her, since she knew I would. When we arrived in the place a little quieter, she faced me and spoke. - She left. I stood motionless, unresponsive, as that information entered my head. Was she gone? Simply broken? Where? It's because? - She ... - I started.- Left. Chloe said objectively. "She has not worked here for a month or so. I was silent for a long time, trying to deal with that fact. I did not expect that. I expected to find her angry at me, perhaps indifferent or sad. Maybe locked in her room with some client, but not that. I really did not expect that. - To where? "I finally said, feeling a growing desperation overwhelm me quickly. - Do not know. She did not warn. He just packed up and left. She had left, and I did not know where. She was anywhere now, anywhere in the world. "How come you do not know where she went?" How did you let her leave without knowing where she was going? Despair made my voice sound a little louder and more authoritative than usual. "She's not a child anymore, Lauren. You do not need a babysitter. "But you should know ..." I cried, already completely desperate. She continued to stare at me with a calm countenance, which made me even more irritated. It was not possible that she did not understand the gravity of the situation! There was no way she could not feel the fear I was feeling right now. She could be anywhere in the world! Where would I find her? - Her cell phone! - I said, with a snap of brilliance suddenly - The number, give me her number! - It's no use. After she left, I and the other girls tried to talk to her to find out where she was, but we were never able to complete a call. It is always off. - I do not care! Give me her cell phone! I needed to find her. Try to talk to her, somehow. Chloe seemed to begin to understand my state of panic now, so she quickly took the phone out of her pocket and passed me, with her number on the display. As she had said, the phone was off, which made my heart race with sadness when I heard her message box. Moved by a growing panic, I repeated the call four more times, even though I knew it would not help. I did not know what to do, and I kept trying to think of some plan-anybody-to help me find it. I was taken from my reverie by the sudden crash of the door closing behind me. I turned and faced Samantha, who was looking at me with an expression of disgust. - What are you doing here? - You! I exploded, feeling a little hope to see her before me - She was your friend! She told you where she was going! - She did not tell me anything. She spoke very calmly, still looking completely unhappy with my presence there. "And if I had said it, I would not tell you. - It's a lie! Where is she? "It's no lie, you idiot. She disappeared. God only knows where she is, and I just hope she's okay. Because if she is not, it's all her fault. I felt exactly that. Although I could not understand why she blamed me for leaving, something told me that Camila's guilt was not there, it was all mine. And if she was suffering now, if she was in trouble, wherever she was, I would have to live with that fact. This certainty greatly increased my despair. I only noticed that Samantha was close to me when I heard her voice very close to my ear, speaking in a soft and faint way, but at the same time, it carried a tone of accusation that made my heart ache. "You do not know what you did to her." You have no idea how you hurt her. Those words broke up with me.The pain of spending three months without her was almost weak, compared to the pain I felt now. I had hurt her in a way I did not know, my rude behavior was the last thing she could have of me, and to think that she suffered because of me - as far as Samantha hinted - was so horrible that I wished for a moment , cease to exist. I stood still for a long time, feeling all the force of those words, of that confession, knocking me out. After a long time, God only knew how much, I realized that Samantha was no longer in the kitchen. I laid my cell phone down slowly on the table and turned to leave. It was then that I noticed that I was not alone: Chloe stood there, staring at me. I glanced back, almost bowed by the weight of guilt on my back and the pounding pain that ripped through my chest. I wanted to cry, but I could not. The growing hopelessness of finding her again overwhelmed me, and made me feel every second more hatred of my cowardly, selfish attitude. Chloe looked at me with a pity I did not deserve. I was a motherfucker, the most people should feel for me was anger or disgust. But she did not seem to think so. When he finally walked toward the table, picking up a paper from a small pad with pen and scribbling something, I did not care. It was only when she handed me the paper that I paid some attention to her attitude. - You know? She asked, pointing to the written name. "No," I replied, lower than usual. "It's the neighborhood where I met you before you came here." She was on a street, but I can not remember the name. That's all I can do for you. It was discreet, but the sense of hope that came through me again made me feel slightly more alive. I rushed out of The Hills, diverting from some girls who wanted to keep me inside, while desperately grabbing the single clue written on the piece of paper that could lead me to it. I drove fast, with very little care, and it was only when I remembered Ally's recommendations - which was a miracle under the circumstances - that I tried to be a little more responsible in the direction. I stopped several times in distant places, asking pedestrians for information. Slowly, I moved toward the place Chloe had given me, and an hour later I had arrived. The streets were very dark and the old buildings. It was obvious that the neighborhood was home to low-income people, and just thinking of the dangers that inhabited every corner, I shuddered to think of Camila alone at night walking through them. I went into smaller streets, not knowing where to go, and it was then that I came across a personal dilemma. I wanted to find her, desperately. But it was simple: I could not find her if she was in some apartment, safe and sound, while watching TV. She had to be on the street, and if that happened, I knew what she was doing. She would be offering herself to anyone, on any corner, for any amount. It aroused so many sensations in me that I had to press my fingers on the steering wheel to steady myself. I was irritated. Irada. Bitch. With such hate that it made my body tremble. At the same time, she was desperate to find her at once. And scared that some son of a bitch had already .... "" For God's sake, where are you? "I passed several streets more than once, because I knew nothing there, and everywhere I went were dark and deserted. After a while I came to a street a little wider than the others, with wide and tall pilasters holding the old buildings, very long, with little movement, dark. On the sidewalks, many women spread out along the street, wearing overly short, vulgar jumps and clothes.That was awful. In all the time I paid for program girls, I made a point of attending only small nightclubs. '' I had never caught street prostitutes, so being in that situation was making me sick. First because I was not passing by casually. I was in that place purposely, staring and analyzing each of the women through the window of my car. Second because now I saw exactly what that reality was, and how demeaning and humiliating it could be. And third, because it was in that disgusting situation that I expected to find the woman who would not leave my head. I did not want to see her there, in that humiliating way, lending herself to it. But at the same time, I needed to find her. I touched the accelerator gently, letting the vehicle move very slowly, giving me time to search each of those women for some trace that made me think it might be Camilla. Then I saw her. The last silhouette before the corner, leaning against one of the pilasters as her hair covered her face. That body seemed to be hers. That way of not seeming to belong to that place seemed to be hers. But she did not dress in that vulgar way ... Finally I stopped the car immediately in front of her, and waited. The mysterious woman seemed to decide whether to come to me or not, and I tried to fight my shortness of breath and the violent hammering of my heart against my chest. As if it had been dominated by some kind of sixth sense, my body reacted strangely, shaking so hard that it took almost all the concentration in me to keep me still. I knew that feeling, that nervousness, that weakness and total surrender. They were sensations that only the presence of a certain person could awaken in me. So, before the silhouette was lowered into the passenger window to face me, I knew it was her. There they were. Underneath a heavy makeup on an indifferent face, those familiar chocolate-colored eyes that I just could not forget. That did not seem to be the girl I was looking so desperately for, the girl who had lately inhabited all my dreams and memories. It did not seem to be the girl I had accidentally fallen in love with, because there were no traces of Camilla I met there. There were no remnants of her, except for one exception: those eyes. I would recognize them anywhere, in any situation. Was her. With a few pounds less, a dark makeup extremely inappropriate for his skin tone, which took away much of its natural beauty. Besides, she wore an incredibly short and fair dress, following the pattern of all the women in that street, and high heels that left her many inches too long. Her expression seemed to be empty as she lowered herself into the passenger window, but when she actually saw me there, her mask of indifference seemed to break right away. I was speechless and motionless because I did not know how to act. Seeing her like that, in that situation, aroused in me an inexplicable fury, so I had to force myself to remain calm. It was somehow irrational, but there was no getting around the anger I felt now. Anger at everything and everyone. Anger of her. Still, it was difficult to reconcile this anger with the sense of relief that had plagued me. I really had managed to find her against all odds. Whether it was by miracle or by luck, she was there, a few inches from me, and if it had not been for the rage that jumped inside me, I might even smile.- One hundred U.S. dollars. My surprise at hearing the sound of his voice, making sure it was not part of yet another of my many dreams with her, was immediately replaced by the shock of the meaning of that phrase. She was charging a hundred dollars for the program. Hundred dollars to sell me, or worse, to anyone who was in my place. That was the price she charged to let anyone touch her and have her the way she wanted: A hundred dollars. I do not know the size of the shock that I showed in my face, but I did not care. Those two words had hurt me with an intensity I had not imagined, and I felt even worse when I thought I saw an almost imperceptible smile on the corner of her mouth, as if she really wanted to hurt me with it. I did not know what to answer. I wanted to yell at her, shake her and ask her what the hell she was doing, and when I opened my mouth to say something, I was interrupted by another voice, which sounded next to me, in the driver's window. I did not know who the woman next to me was, because I did not bother checking to see if I knew her or not, but it seemed as though she was now speaking directly to me. Whatever it was, I could not tell for sure, because the shock of Camila's words were still hurting me. When I finally noticed that the person would not leave us alone again, I forced myself to look away from her, afraid that she would simply evaporate, and I turned to the woman next to me. - You, shut up! She seemed to be indignant at my words, but I did not give a damn about it, because there was someone else there - the only person who mattered - then I immediately turned to her again, and still with the same tone in her voice, I said again. - And you, get in the car! I immediately regretted talking to her that way, but at that moment the only thing I thought was to get her out of there as soon as possible, and keep her close to me anywhere away from the others. So I could do nothing but stepping on the accelerator as soon as I saw Camila hit the hitchhiker door beside me. Flashback off. ***
