"No, I don't want to go in there again!" Lauren whisper hisses to Normani, who held the pizza money in one fist while the other pushed Lauren towards the door. She argues back how were they supposed to know what she liked on her pizza to which Lauren would assure that everyone liked plain pepperoni.

But there she was, knocking on her door again and just like before, there was no response. She debates knocking again but decided against it and pushed open her door while folding her lips into her mouth. Camila was sitting criss-cross on the bed with a large book in her lap and her hair tucked behind her ears.

"I was just wondering what you like on your pizza?" Lauren holds the money up as proof and Camila glances down the novel that was laying in her lap.

"Anything is fine, really," her sentence was rushed as she eagerly tried to get the girl to leave. Lauren nods, closing the door while repeating the words in her head. It was the first time she'd spoken and she noticed how small she sounded, matching perfectly with how small she looked. Behind the door, Camila couldn't seem to focus on her book, mindlessly turning pages without actually retaining any of the plot causing her to flip a page or two back. This was all new to her. She'd been alone for what seemed forever and now suddenly someone she doesn't know at all gives her a place to sleep and eat and, well, live.

No one in her life had ever done that for her and she cut her thoughts short as to not cry. Crying made her feel weak and she had done too much of it in her short life. The doorbell rang, startling her and she didn't realize how long she was actually thinking until the noise echoed through her ears. There was the sound of a door being thrown open before the thudding of several footsteps races past her door and bounded down the stairs towards what she was assuming the pizza delivery boy.

Camila rub the goosebumps on her arms in an attempt to warm her skin, wondering if it was her room, the whole house, or even just herself that was cold. Then again she tended to get chilly easily and the temperature probably wasn't even that bad. Her eyes wander around the room, recalling the fact that her jacket was basically of no use, and her brown orbs land on the navy blue sweatshirt still hanging from the back of the desk chair. Sliding off of the mattress, her footsteps are soundless as she grabs the hoodie and folds it neatly.

As Lauren and Normani made their way back upstairs, a slice of pizza already hanging out of Normani's mouth, they notice Camila's door barely closing. Both girls stop immediately upon entering Lauren's room again because there, laying on the end of her bed, was her softball hoodie.

"She's so goddamn quiet," Lauren mumbles, taking hold of the jacket before placing it on top of her dresser.

"How long is she staying?" Normani asks, taking a seat on top of the desk while Lauren opts for the actual chair.

She shrugs. "Dunno. Could be a few weeks, months. We've never done anything like this before."

The conversation stops immediately upon hearing the squeak of her bedroom door, the floorboards creaking slightly on the stairs as Camila goes downstairs for food.

"Not gonna lie, this is some horror movie type shit," the ebony skinned girl greedily bites into her second pizza slice.

-

"Hey, dad- woah, what the hell is that?" Lauren was downstairs for half a minute when her father walked in with a large box full of lord knows what.

"People have been donating stuff like crazy for Camila. Half the weight in this box is books," Mr. Jauregui groans, setting the box down on the counter as his daughter opens the fridge.

"Good luck getting that to her. She doesn't willingly open the door unless there's pizza downstairs or if she knows we're in our rooms," his daughter informs.

The sheriff sighs, "This isn't new information you're telling me. The girl has social anxiety and hasn't exactly lived with anyone since she was fourteen."

Almost automatically Lauren's brain started giving her all the information about social anxiety she knew, spitting out words to the front of her mind like 'fear of being judged' or 'rapid heartbeat' and other synonyms she could recall.

Wow Dad, Lauren thought, thanks for making me feel like a jackass.

"Hey kiddo," the man grabs her attention. "If you're uncomfortable with all this, just say the word and we'll figure something else out. It's going to take some adjusting but at least give it a couple days."

Lauren nods, understanding that her father just wanted to help as much as possible. Honestly the girl didn't mind; Camila was quiet and in the four hours she'd been here, she had only seen her twice, plus minimal word exchange.

After asking where Normani was and Lauren explaining that she had gone home thirty minutes ago, Lauren bounds up the stairs to her room. Passing by a specific closed door made her flinch. It's like shifting all the furniture half a centimeter to the left; you know something is off but you can't particularly place it. In this case, the closed door was the something off.

Lauren was just thankful that her father hadn't set Camila's stuff in-

She shakes her head to rid herself of the thought but as she closed her door, she glanced directly across the hall to the third room on the second floor, a place Lauren was glad Camila hadn't discovered yet. Sometimes she went in there, mostly when her dad wasn't home or when she was desperate for a memory but other than those few moments, she seldom ventured to the room whose paint color was slowly fading from her mind.

-

[ edited on June 4, 2019 ]