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Chapter 1 - Nightmares - Part 3

A/N: Comment as you read, yeah? It makes me happy.

CAMI:

When I finally reached my room, I burst through the door with a happy grin on my face. Annie, my roommate, jumped back in shock, clutching her shirt tightly.

“Dammit, Cami,” she said. “You scared me.”

“Sorry about that,” I said and threw myself on my bed.

Our dorm room was kind of standard. With two single beds on opposite walls and a long desk between the headboards. We had small closets, but I didn’t mind. Annie, however, wasn’t satisfied with the limited space. In that regard, she reminded me a lot of Ludmilla—they were both crazy about fashion.

The thought made me smile.

“You’re in a jolly good mood,” Annie said.

I glanced in her direction, seeing her perfectly shaped eyebrow arch slightly. Her tanned skin made me look likea ghost in comparison. And even now, without makeup and her long black hair styled in a messy bun on top of her head, she still looked like some sort of Indian goddess. It was no wonder that she aspired to be a model.

Shrugging, I looked at the ceiling. “I suppose I am.” A small smile played on my lips. I knew her curiosity would urge her to ask about it. All I had to do was wait.

I could feel her eyes on me, as she tried to guess what had caused my happiness. “Did the therapy go well?” she asked.

“I suppose,” I repeated. The memory of what Dr. Hertz had told me briefly clouded my joy over hearing from Zayn again. After Harry, Zayn had been the person I missed the most. It pained me that I also hurt him with my lies.

Annie, however, didn’t take that response very well. “You still didn’t talk to him, did you? Jesus, Camilla. I don’t know what else we can do to help you. Your nightmares are getting worse every night, and we don’t even know why. I’ve been reading up on PTSD, and I’m almost positive that’s what you’re going through. I mean, who would blame you? It’s not surprising after what happened, but please, for the love of all things holy, please talk to the therapist.”

“You’re wrong,” I said after I’d let her vent on her own. “I did talk to him, Anushka.”

I saw her cringe as I used her full name. She knew that meant serious business. I never called her that, mostly because I’d struggled pronouncing it correctly when she first told me her long name.

“That’s good,” she said and averted her eyes.

Dangit, now I’d ruined everything. I wanted to tell her about Zayn and about what we’d agreed to, but now it would just seem weird. I sighed. “I’m sorry, Annie. It’s just…” I searched for the right word. “Itis difficult to talk about. Talking with him brings back a whole set of memories that I’d rather forget.”

“I know.” Annie met my eyes again. “But in order to properly forget them, you need to deal with them first. They’re not going away on their own.”

Her voice was soothing, and I’d gotten quite used to the faint Indian accent whenever she spoke. I nodded.

“You mean well, I know that,” I said and sat up straight, hugging my knees. “It’s just… My anxiety attacks have followed me through most of my life, and I don’t want to relive those memories ever again.” I looked down at my shoes. “I don’t think I could handle that.”

Of course, Annie knew about everything. Well, at least a watered down version of it all. She knew about my lies, about Harry, and about Max and Jamie kidnapping me. But on top of that, she also knew about my parents’ death and my brief time at the orphanage. When I first told her, she’d made it a priority to check the weather reports every morning, just to prevent a possibly panic attack.