Habit

Chapter 6

Camila walked into school this morning feeling something she hadn't felt in years-inner peace. There was something comforting in knowing the priest had felt something in her that could be changed for the better.

Camila had told him everything, everything under the sun she had refused to talk about with anyone else before now. And the best part was that through the whole thing, the priest never looked disappointed, mad, repulsed, anything. He was almost sympathetic.

He patted Camila on the shoulder, told her with God on her side, forgiveness was unstoppable. It all seemed like with that one visit to the church, everything could be okay again.

She walked into school feeling unstoppable, feeling tranquil in knowing that everything could get better.

But that was before the first guy came up to her, grabbed her hand rather roughly, pulling her in the direction of the nearby locker room, whispering pleas of necessity, promises of money into her ear.

She tried to push him off, tried to tell him she was done with this shit, but he wouldn't listen.

He opened the large, black door in front of them, pushed her through it, shut it behind him, and started to pull off Camila's shirt. He threw it roughly on the ground, and grabbed Camila's face with his hand.

She leaned down without a second doubt, and did everything she couldn't find the strength to do the first time something like this happened. She bit him hard on the forearm.

He released her immediately, screamed "Crazy BITCH" her way, and stormed out of the locker room, pulling his zipper back up in the process. Camila didn't remember him pulling it down.

Camila pulled her knees to her chest on the cold, hard tiles on the ground below her, felt the chill around her, freezing now. She let tears held in roll down her cheeks, realizing how little things had changed, but how suddenly, everything had changed.

She grabbed her shirt in her fist, recognizing the shakiness that had come upon her. She felt something warm fall out of her mouth and saw it was red; she'd bit him hard enough to draw blood. She wiped the blood away tenderly from her lips, rid her cheek of the tears they held.

She put her head solidly on her knees, prayed. She prayed for the things she could not change.

She prayed for the things she wished she could see, but couldn't.
She prayed for a way out.

oooo

After Camila had mustered up the strength to remove herself from the floor and put her shirt back on, she went to whatever class she was supposed to attend at that time.

She could be worried about seeing that guy again, but truthfully, she hadn't even seen his face. She walked solemnly into the classroom, apologizing to her teacher, realizing her body had led her to English class.

Miss Lovato stopped teaching, looked to Camila, who was avoiding her eye contact. Miss Lovato turned back to the board she was writing on, and Camila wondered if she'd given up on her.

Class went on for some time before Camila looked up and realized she was the only one left in the classroom. She had lost track of time; it was nearly time for lunch. Camila looked around and saw Miss Lovato staring at her, concern bright like stars in her eyes.

Camila stood unevenly from the desk she sat in and walked to Miss Lovato's desk, prepared to make an excuse for everything. But before she could open her mouth, Miss Lovato held up a hand.

"I know you're going to lie about what really happened. I know you're going to give me a somewhat valid excuse for where you were, but you're going to have to give me the truth, because I'm about five seconds away from calling the guidance counselor and telling her I have a student who I believe may be severely depressed. Your grades are slipping, Camila. You're late every day, and if you're not late, you're not in class at all. And when you are in class, you're either staring into space or doodling in your notebook. You are never spiritually present, and this can't go on any longer." Miss Lovato patted a seat next to her desk with a freshly manicured hand.

"It's time to tell me what's really got you so held up." Camila looked down at the chair once, briefly considering sitting before ultimately deciding making a run for it would be the most viable option. Miss Lovato must have seen this in Camila's features because before she could run, Miss Lovato said, "You don't have a choice anymore. Sit down, Camila."

And with that, Camila sat. Camila sat and told Miss Lovato everything she could possibly say. She told her she was raped, something she'd never told anyone. She told her she didn't fight back, she needed to compensate for it, she was screwing every guy in school, she was a whore in the eyes of the student body, a sinner in the eyes of God, she was trying to be better, she was trying to get rid of her habit, tried to save herself, that didn't work, but God could save her, that's what the priest said last night, but why would what happened this morning happen if she was sorry, if she really wanted to change?

Why would that happen?

Why could God let that happen?

And she couldn't say anymore after that because she was crying too hard for words to escape her lips.

Camila brought her hands to her eyes, feeling nothing but shame. There was no relief. Miss Lovato reached over and grabbed Camila's hand, enfolding it in her own, and Camila held on for dear life. She could sink in the waters surrounding her, but she wouldn't without a fight. This much was already proven.

Miss Lovato picked a hand up and grabbed Camila's chin softly in her fingers. Camila's eyes found hers, and she started talking. "You're not alone. You're never alone. You're beautiful, wonderful, and this lifestyle you've led yourself to isn't what you're worth. You are more than you give yourself credit to be. You degrade yourself because of what your past is, and that's not okay. You'll never be okay until you realize that your pastdoes not define you."
Camila scoffed. "But that's the point, Miss L. It does define me. You wouldn't get it. You don't know what it's like to hate yourself this much." Another tear slid down Camila's face, and she realized soon that one had also fallen down the face of the grown English teacher across from her.

"But, Camila, that's the thing. I do know what it's like. It's why I know how much you hate yourself. You're where I was three years ago." Miss Lovato released Camila's chin, and lifted up the sleeves on her arms, revealing two words written horizontally across her wrists. Stay strong. "I got these to remind me that when I'm alone, when I'm worth nothing, I'm not either of those things. I just think I am. They remind me that I'm safe, I'm fine, and that I'm worth something. You're worth something, Camila. More than you know now. But you're worth more than what you do to yourself. You don't deserve the torture. What happened this morning was not your fault, and I'mproud of you for fighting back. That shows just how strong your fighting heart is. You're a warrior." Miss Lovato smiled, pulled down her sleeves, and patted Camila on the back before pulling her into a hug. "You're a warrior."