the case study ~ camren

Cloudy

I'm so used to dealing with inmates in prison and the effects that lifestyle has on them, but I'm glaringly inexperienced in the inverse. Of course, I never expected Camila to adjust perfectly to life outside her cell—a sudden, drastic change can be upsetting for even the healthiest of minds—but I feel helpless when I hear her sniffles at night, only for her to claim that she's okay the next morning. The tears which well in her eyes in frustration at the smallest things, like not knowing how to use my oven, serve as further evidence to the contrary.

I sigh softly as I find her staring out of the window once more, a habit she picked up almost immediately after I brought her home. Her eyes search the streets below, though I'm yet to understand what it is she's looking for. Ensuring that I don't sneak up on her, I slip my hand into hers, looking out the window with her. The sky is overcast, causing her eyes to seem cloudy and distant with its greyish reflection. She doesn't look over to me, even when I squeeze her hand and lean over to press a kiss to her shoulder. 

She's wearing my clothes, as we haven't gone out to buy her any yet. While I love watching her saunter around in my old band t-shirts and skinny jeans, I think it might help her feel more at home if she has her own. Yesterday, she'd seemed a little better, a little happier, so I thought we could go this afternoon. Something must have happened last night, though, because she hasn't said a word yet today.

Slowly, she turns to face me. There's an odd look in her eyes, something extremely uncertain, yet knowing, too.

"Hartley got fired." I share the news I'd received this morning, hoping it might cheer her up to know that the god-awful woman won't be tormenting anyone else. 

Instead, her eyes widen ever so slightly, brows tipping up in a way that is so subtle, I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't memorised her face. She turns back to the streets, sighing silently.

"Hey," I say softly, letting go of her hand to wrap my arm around her shoulders. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours, hmm?"

Her cheeks and ears tint pink, and she reaches up to move some of her hair, still damp from her bath last night, around from behind her ear to hide her face. I press my lips against her warm temple. 

Something small taps against my back, and I turn to see Sofi standing behind me, her lip pulled between her teeth, just like her sister does. I smile softly, letting go of Camila to face her fully. I think this is the first time she's sought out my attention, always opting to instead whisper her requests to Camila, who then relays the message to me.

"I'm hungry," she murmurs, taking my hand and pulling me into the kitchen on the other side of the room. 

I chuckle as I let her lead the way, watching as she hops up onto the counter. I open my mouth to ask what she'd like to eat, but she quickly shushes me, looking over her shoulder at the silhouette of her sister. Silently, she beckons me closer until she can whisper directly into my ear. 

"Is it true?"

I frown slightly, leaning back to regard her face only to be pulled closer again.

"Is it true that Kaki killed Mami and Papi?"

I bite my lip, unsure of how to respond. I worry that if I lie, Camila will feel hurt that I felt the need to disguise her doings, while I've no idea if she wants Sofi to know the truth.

Sofi herself clarifies this by continuing, "She told me last night, but is it true?"

Finally, I nod. "Yeah. Yeah, it is, but she—"

"She saved us." There's some sort of awe in Sofi's voice. After a moment, she gently pushes me back. "Cereal, please."

I glance at the clock on the oven. "It's lunchtime. Don't you want something more?"