It has the same rich kid décor as most of my ex friend’s places, and the upside is the closeness to the
nightlife and the bustling stores. Even though I told myself I wouldn’t be like before, I still want to be
somewhere that gives me a choice, near the buzz of New York’s constant energy should I feel like
going out sometime.
“Who owns this place, anyway?” I nosey at the bedrooms, smiling when Camilla tells me to pick one. I
wander into the most feminine and chuck my backpack on the bed haphazardly, eyeing up its clean
décor and the hints that this is a male’s place. It reeks of bachelor pad rather than a couple, or even a
woman.
“Just some guy I sometimes fuck. He’s very generous with his houses.” She winks at me and wanders
in to flop on the bed in front of me, carrying two glasses and a bottle of wine. “Celebratory tipple?” She
waves it my way, but I only shake my head. Sighing heavily.
“I’m still recovering from whatever rocket fuel you poured down my throat last night.” It isn’t just the
hangover, something in my gut tells me Camilla did something to my drink last night and I can’t shake
it. I know she will deny it if I ask, and I just cannot be bothered with any drama. I’m exhausted, still
hungover and in need of some rest. The journey was cramped, noisy, and the creep watching me
across the aisle on the whole trip made me uptight and tense. I sat with my bag in my lap, aware of his
eyes on me.
“Come on, Sophs, don’t be a spoilsport. You can’t bunk with me and not enjoy the occasional booze
fest. What’s the point of being young, beautiful, and loaded if we can’t have some fun?” She sits up,
placing the glasses on the nightstand while fighting with the cork, screaming in delight when it pops off
and wine spills everywhere.
I frown; a huge internal pang sending off warnings, telling me to get my bag and go, but I’m tired, dead
on my feet, and I really am too exhausted to leave. I want nothing more than to relax for one night and
stop stressing about how my family are right this second. I know, without a doubt they’ll have realized
I’m gone by now, and the guilt is tearing me up inside. I have major regrets at how I reacted, nothing I
can do about it now though, and I just need to make the best out of the worst.
I pull my phone out of my bag, regarding it for a second before sliding it into the drawer hesitantly,
adamant I won’t turn it on this time. I have to do this on my own before I can let them back in. Whether
I’m making a huge mistake, it’s something I have to do on my own, and prove to them I can be trusted.
If I am to avoid being locked up in rehab hell, I have to show them I can survive out here and get my life
back on track myself.
I was thinking while on the bus, about what I’m going to do, plan to search; I can Google on my phone
for information and have figured an action plan of sorts already. I just need a little time to put it all into
action before I grovel with my tail between my legs for their forgiveness.
“If I’m going to stay then I’m setting some ground rules here. I’m trying to get my act together, Cam,
and that means no booze, not for a while anyway. I have stuff that I intend to sort out, and I want to
start looking for a job or something, to support myself when I get my shit together.” I shoo the glass
away and set about pulling a tank and panties out to wear to bed, even though it’s early I intend to get
in and just stay there. I have so much more reading to do on a fashion school I know is located in New
York, about entry requirements if I get brave enough to fire up my cell.
“Your family is loaded; you don’t need a job.” Camilla laughs at the ridiculousness of it. Downing her
booze and making a mess with spillages as she waves it around.
“I can’t live off their money forever, especially now when I literally ran off again. I need something more
in my life than this. I need a focus and something to drive me so that I feel like my life is my own.” My
head is a mass of thoughts and feelings about everything, and I realize I have to make some changes.
I’m not a kid anymore, and if I want them all to see it, I need to stop acting like one. I maybe did a really
stupid and immature thing by running off again, but I don’t intend to stay away forever, just long enough
to prove to everyone I’m not some hopeless drunk who needs rehab. At the route of it all, I just want all
of them to have a little pride and faith in me.
“Well I could sort you out something to keep money flowing, I have my ways.” Camilla takes a serious
turn, her normally grinning red lips looking decidedly more calculated, with a raised brow and
penetrating gaze. A sudden aura of danger around her.
“What do you mean? I thought your father kept you in expensive clothes and cars.” I regard her warily,
pulling off my clothes to change into bed wear as Camilla shifts over to the other side to deposit the
extra wine glass.
“Another time, little one, when you’re less stubborn minded and more open to my gentle persuasions.
We’ll talk over dinner and drinks tomorrow night at my favorite little hangout.” Camilla gets up to move,
flashing a look that I don’t understand at all. It gives me an odd feeling, but I push it down and shake it
away as she saunters to the door.
“We’ll see.” My gut doing its crazy dive bomb thing again, trying to tell me something is most definitely
not right when it comes to Camilla. I get an underlying sense of something ‘off’ whenever she has that
look in her eye. I vaguely remember the same look when I told her at that bar that I started to feel too
out of whack for only a couple of drinks, but I push it away.
“Toodles, I am off to find a party if you’re going to be boring and go to bed. I have a hunger for some
rough and ready men tonight, so don’t be alarmed if you hear copious amounts of moaning and
screaming later. Oh, and you may get someone popping by tonight with a present for me, just leave it in
my room.” Camilla’s old familiar smile overtakes her face and she sweeps out in a blaze of scent, finally
leaving me alone. Glad that she’s leaving me to just relax without any hassle, and I watch her depart
for a second, turning back to scan the room before carrying on once more.
I finish dressing and slide into bed, discarding all of my things onto the floor next to me. I reach out to
open the nightstand and retrieve my phone, torn between switching it on and putting it back. The last
leg of my journey had seen my guilt eating away at me and I know I owe my family some sort of
message to say I am at least safe. I’m not completely selfish. I know my parents will be beside
themselves by now, and it is gnawing away inside me. My resolve is waning, over staying, completely
silent, and the good child inside of me is worrying about my decision.
My fingers hesitate over the screen, so many doubts and fears as nerves get the better of me, but my
stubborn mind kicks in and switches it on. I need to use google anyway. It only takes seconds for the
beeps of incoming notifications, texts, and missed calls to send my phone crazy and my heart into
erratic pounding. I can’t bear to open any of them, as I scan the list of names piling up in my inbox.
Everyone from Jake, and Emma, to Leila, my parents, and even my brothers.
I sigh heavily, skimming the list of missed calls and stop on Emma, she is the one person who won’t go
mad at me on the phone and reassure everyone else that I’m okay. She is the one person who will be
able to put everyone’s mind at ease, and talk my parents around the rehab idea, with a little time.
Taking a steady deep breath, I press call and slide it to my ear. Sitting propped in bed with bent knees
and fiddling with the bedspread nervously.
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