When Laura was a little kid, she had a yellow pillow.
When Laura turned four, she got a Big Girl Bed and Big Girl Pillows, which she fiercely despised. Her parents, in order to placate her as she screamed and banged her tiny fists against the floor, explained that she could still have the yellow pillow in her big bed. She appreciated that, but she didn't stop crying, mostly on principle.
The pillow was truly baby-sized, and by the time she was twelve, the fabric had worn through. Her mom told her it was "time to retire it," and twelve-year-old Laura cried like she was still four.
Her dad bought a yellow pillow case as a gesture of good faith. At first, it seemed phony and unsatisfactory, but she got used to it.
Now, six years later, it lived in her dorm room. On her bed. Where it never ever was.
"You took my pillow."
Carmilla didn't even glance up. "No, I didn't."
"Seriously?" Laura said, snatching the pillow off Carmilla's bed and tossing it back onto her own.
"Oops," Carmilla said, thoroughly half-heartedly, "didn't even realize." Laura rolled her eyes.
It wasn't even 24 hours later when Laura reentered the dorm to find the pillow once more missing from its spot.
"Where's my-" Laura looked over to Carmilla's unmade bed. "Not again." Carmilla was nowhere to be found.
Laura rewound her camera footage from the past several days. Of course, her primary purpose was to look for evidence of criminal or supernatural wrongdoings. But she also wanted to see when and how her roommate-possibly-girlfriend was so determinedly stealing her bedding.
Three days ago, while Laura was at class, Carmilla laid sprawled out on her own bed. She had a piece of wire and was knotting it into itself repeatedly. She chewed at the inside of her cheek.
Laura watched as Carmilla set down the wire and covered herself in the blankets, shielding her eyes from the daylight pouring in through the window. She slept for an hour's worth of footage before her whole bed started shaking.
Carmilla thrashed under the covers, clawed at her bedsheets, her neck jerked violently back and forth. She sat up in one rapid movement, her eyes snapping open. Her rigid body shook and shivered. Her lip was bleeding. She blinked and tears fell from her eyes.
Laura watched with a hand over her mouth. Carmilla glanced at Laura's bed, at the door, back to the bed. She stood up, shakily extricating herself from the covers, and pulled the yellow pillow off of Laura's bed. It hung limply at her side, as though she could hardly bear its weight as she made her way back to her own bed.
Carmilla wrapped her whole body around the pillow, curled in on herself like a cat, buried her face in the fabric.
She hardly moved as she drifted back off.
Two days later, Laura opened the door to find Carmilla reading in bed with her back against the yellow pillow.
"Hey, Carm?"
"What?"
"The pillow?"
"What pillow?"
"Seriously?"
Carmilla sighed. "Fine." She pulled it out from behind her back and tossed it towards Laura's bed. It tumbled onto the floor instead.
"Okay, no." Laura picked it up again. "Don't treat the pillow like that."
"Like what?"
"Like, all throwing it everywhere." Laura glared. "You know what."
"Sorry." Carmilla rolled her eyes, lent sarcasm to her words, but she sounded sorry.
"Look, I don't know why you keep taking it-"
"I don't."
"Carmilla, really? Just listen to me."
Carmilla looked away.
"I don't know why you keep taking it," Laura said, "But if you, you know, if you need it…"
"What?"
Laura sat down on Carmilla's bed, but Carmilla moved away from her, still averting her eyes.
"If you need it. For nightmares or whatever."
"What are you talking about?"
Laura took a deep breath. "Cut the act, Carm. I watched the footage of you freaking out."
Carmilla was silent for several long moments before she said, "Which time?"
Laura swallowed. "Just one time. A couple days ago. You were… crying."
Carmilla closed her eyes.
"And you took my pillow," Laura said, "and then you slept." Laura pushed the pillow towards Carmilla. "Here."
"It's not about the stupid pillow," Carmilla muttered.
"What's it about?"
Carmilla didn't respond, so Laura continued. "If I can help… in any way… just ask, okay?"
"It smells like you."
"What?"
"The pillow," Carmilla said, clenching her eyes shut and covering her face with one hand. "It smells like you."
"Carm…"
"I'm such a child."
"Carm, look at me."
"No."
"C'mon."
Carmilla opened her eyes slowly to find Laura just inches away from her.
"It's okay."
"Leave me alone, Laura."
"No. Not right now." Laura pulled Carmilla into a tight hug and Carmilla hesitantly buried her face in Laura's neck.
"It's okay." A tear wet Laura's shoulder. Together, they leaned back into the mattress.
Laura pulled the yellow pillow beneath their heads and held Carmilla close to her.
"I'm such an embarrassment."
"Shhh, Carm," Laura whispered. "Sleep now."
