Her Light

XXVI

It's been really bad. Camila can't even think of a way to put it besides really bad.

Everyday becomes harder and harder. Even though her mom is in the lighthouse, sleeping only one floor below her, Camila is still so heart-wrenchingly alone. Is it her mind? Her heart? Her hands? Her soul? She can't place it and she feels sick.

Camila has been physically ill, ever since she threw up a couple nights after Lauren and the crew left. Her head pounds and her eyes ache, her body is drenched in nausea and all Camila wants to do is sleep.

Except she can't. Camila hasn't truly sleep since Lauren left... how long ago was it? A few weeks? Two months? A year? No, Camila would definitely realize if it had been longer than two months.

Sitting in her room with all the lights out, Camila rests her back against the wall behind her bed. A candle's flame flickers beside her, illuminating only so much space. Gazing down at her hands, Camila creases her eyebrows trying to figure out how long it has been.

Three weeks. Camila is roughly sure it has been three weeks

Camila's body aches. She could crumble into a coma-like sleep if her brain decided to stop. She wishes there was a plug she could grab and rip out of its socket, spinning her eyes like slot machines and then crashing down.

Since she pinned a blanket up over her port window, Camila has no idea what time it is. It could be two in the afternoon or it could be two in the morning. She's fairly sure it's mid-day, however, because she vaguely remembers her mother requesting her presence in the kitchen after lunch. Needless to say, Camila didn't eat lunch and now she's in here churning and drowning in grief at the remembrance.

Camila's mother has been so helpful in all of this Camila feels terrible. It's been hard to accept the help her mother has been providing, especially with the conflicting emotions Camila already has for her. But without her, where would she be? This is whole reason why her mom stayed back, but Camila feels uncomfortable and overwhelmed.

Another wave of nausea shudders through her body and Camila clutches her stomach. Everything is so hard to handle at once when she has no one to confide in.

Camila realizes she's lived this way for most of her life, but having Lauren was such a blessing. And now she's (temporarily, but still) gone. The harder Camila works toward escaping this place, the faster she will be able to walk out that door and into Lauren's arms.

...and that's part of the problem! Along with wanting to sell the lighthouse, Camila had had such a codependent relationship with this building, it's physically painful to talk about it being someone else's. It will no longer be Camila's problem tangibly, but mentally the scars will forever remain.

Oh, but she fucking hates it here. Shutting her eyes tightly, willing her throbbing headache to subside, Camila forces herself out of bed.

Climbing the stairs at an agonizingly slow rate, Camila winces when the bright light catches up to her. Definitely mid-day; the light streaming down from the seventh level is glowing. Sinu is sat patiently at the table, looking relieved when she sees Camila.

"How are you feeling?" She asks, keeping her eyes on her daughter as she sits in front of her. There's a worried gleam in her gaze.

"I'm okay." Camila replies. Her hazy eyes and sunken in face tell otherwise, but that's a different conversation. Never has there been so much change in her life before.

"Have you decided what you wanted to do yet?"

Camila nods slowly, placing her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. "I want to sell to a private owner since there's a lot of work that needs to be done and I'm not qualified." Camila laughs softly, a fleeting moment of joy glimpsing her expression.