11.
Carmilla
You actually thought you escaped her. You thought you were done with her manipulative bullshit. You thought you were free.
You thought. And that was the problem.
As if she'd let you go that easily.
Somewhere, somehow, word got back to your mother that you were in California.
When Laf found you on the roof (because you hadn't stepped foot in the attic since that day), and they told you there was an extremely terrifying woman in respectable business wear and heels, with freshly manicured nails and a stare that could make a pride of lions cower, asking for you at the front door, your stomach sank, your breathing picked up, and you're pretty sure your heart stopped.
You knew instantly it was your mother they were referring to.
With more effort than necessary, you managed to make it back through the window in your bedroom. Before descending the stairs, however, you made sure to tell Laf that if, for any reason, you didn't make it back before morning, they were to call the police.
They laughed.
You were serious.
Turns out, your mother wanted to go out for lunch. To talk.
That was normal for her. She enjoyed belittling her children in public so you couldn't retaliate without making a scene.
What you didn't expect was Ell, waiting in the back of the black SUV, when your mother's driver opened the door for the two of you.
And, as if it was even possible, your stomach sank further.
Dealing with your mother was one thing. Your ex-fiancee? She was a whole other thing entirely.
Your steps faltered the second your eyes met Ell's cold blue orbs. You only managed to force yourself to climb into the seat next to her after your mother placed her hand on the small of your back and forcefully pushed you forward.
As if your week wasn't already bad, with Laura avoiding you like the plague, it had just gotten a whole lot worse.
Lunch, surprisingly, went by without incident. Albeit, you nearly sweated through your flannel and you jumped every time your mother acknowledged you or that one time Ell mentioned the fact that you weren't wearing her engagement ring and you muttered something about it probably being washed down the sewer drain. She didn't hear you.
You survived lunch. There was no yelling or berating, or judgement. And that only meant one of two things:
Your mother was beyond livid and her punishment would be too severe to play out in public,
Or
She really didn't give two shits anymore and just wanted to know that you were alive. Like an actual, loving mother.
Somehow, you really doubted it was option number two, but a girl could hope.
Your hope violently flew out the window, when back in the car, your mother asked her driver to raise the partition separating him from the three of you in the back seat. Suddenly, it felt like it was you against two, with the odds highly in their favor.
Your body started trembling before your mother even began to raise her fist. But once she did, your entire being braced itself for the inevitable as her open palm connected with your cheek, the only sound in the car the smack of flesh against flesh and your surprised gasp.
Then came the yelling. The disappointment. The abhor.
You think the driver must have gone around the block a couple times because the ride to the restaurant felt much, much shorter.
Ell didn't say a word the entire time. She just sat there, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her eyes watching the buildings and cars moving past outside her window, her face stoic. You weren't really even sure why she was even there other than to make you feel uncomfortable.
It worked.
As the driver pulled up to the Perry's hostel, your mother ordered you to pack your things at once. She knew you didn't have a lot. She knew it wouldn't take you long. But there was no way in hell you were getting back in that car once your feet touched the sidewalk, after your mother practically threw you out.
You nearly ran up the front walkway, barely acknowledging the wisp of a honey colored pony tail out of the corner of your eye, and busted through the front door. You passed Laf on your way up the stairs and managed to mutter out something along the lines of, "if she doesn't leave, call the cops."
They asked something about your eye. Your only response was the slam of your door in their face.
Mattie called you two hours later. Six times. You ignored every ring.
Will called you too, but you were already on the roof with a journal on your lap and a pen in your hand at that point and didn't see the notification for his missed call until the following morning.
Laura
You had a lot of time to think after your last encounter with Carmilla, especially considering she hadn't once tried to contact you about your little (overdramatic) outburst(s). Which inevitably meant the theoretical ball was on your side of the theoretical court. The thing was, it was a rather large court and Carmilla happened to be on the far end of it. Directly under the net. With obstacle after impossible/potentially deadly obstacle separating you.
But it physically pained you to see her that upset. And because of you.
That night you could hardly sleep. Your mind kept replaying the look of hurt and betrayal in Carmilla's eyes when you walked away from her. Again. After fucking her… Again
It was nearly three o'clock the next morning, when you finally got enough courage to attempt an apology and an explanation. Because she deserved it. You just didn't think she deserved you. She deserved someone who could love her wholeheartedly and wasn't absolutely terrified to.
Carmilla wasn't in her bed when you walked through your shared bathroom and into her bedroom. She wasn't in the attic on the window seat with a book, or in the kitchen scooping deep into a pint of ice cream, or in the mini library upstairs. The house was quiet, the only sound the pad of your feet on the hardwood floors.
She wasn't in the front yard, or the back in one of the hammocks either, but as you were seconds away from giving up your search and attempting sleep you knew wouldn't come, you caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of your eye.
Sitting with her back to you, eyes focused on the stars, tapping the tip of a pen to a familiar journal, was Carmilla. On the roof. One leg dangling over the edge.
You didn't want to scare her, but something in you couldn't stop picturing her falling to her death, so you called out to her. She jumped, but quickly hid it with a snarky, "oh, you're talking to me now?" You just rolled your eyes and told her you were coming up.
She didn't protest. You took that as a good sign.
You were reaquainted with your fear of heights the second you got to the window and stuck one of your legs out. You muttered a remark about how the hell Carmilla even got up there and she must have heard you because seconds later she was climbing down and grumbling the entire time she helped you with the placing of your feet.
As soon as you were safely situated next to her (sat a foot away, at least) she immediately went back to doing whatever it was she was doing before you interrupted her, and ignored you. You cleared your throat, trying to get her attention again, but the pen in her hand kept moving, even as she raised her eyebrow. You rolled your eyes.
"What are you even doing up here? This is like, incredibly unsafe, Carmilla."
She barely acknowledged you as she mumbled, "J'aime le nuit, j'ai les idées plus claires dans le noir."
You huffed out a laugh. "Funny, because it seems to me like you're afraid of it, if last week was any indication."
You watched her head snap up so fast you were surprised she didn't get whiplash from the action alone. "Wait, you understand French?"
You smirked. "I'd hope so, I studied it for eight years."
You figured she wasn't expecting you to know what she was saying. And maybe that was the only way she was willing to talk to you; in languages you couldn't understand. You didn't really blame her.
The two of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity.
When you couldn't handle the eerily deafening silence, in complete Laura Hollis fashion, you spit out everything you wanted to say in one breath and hoped she understood enough to begin to forgive you.
"I miss you and I don't know what the hell I was thinking but I love you I'm so incredibly in love with you and I haven't stopped thinking about that fact since you said it that night and it's driving me insane not being able to just talk to you and touch you like before and I am so so so so sorry Carmilla I was scared and angry at myself and you deserve so much better than that and someone who isn't afraid to love you you deserve the world Carmilla but the word 'love' triggers something in my head and I get all clammy and I feel nauseous and my hands start shaking and I'm scared that if you stay I'm going to fuck everything up and I can't do that to you It hurts to see you in pain and I'm sorry I'm such an idiot and I'm sorry I'm so selfish and-"
"Okay, Laura, you need to breathe before you fucking pass out."
"-oh my god I probably sound insane but I can't even remember the last time I said 'I love you' I don't even say it to my dad not since my mom died and I don't want you to die because I love you-"
"Laura, nobody is dying. I need you to-"
"-and oh god please don't die I'm so sorry please-" "Jesus christ…"
And then you weren't talking anymore and your nose was filled with the addictive, familiar scent of Carmilla's shampoo and your laundry detergent and something resembling a bonfire and you're not really sure how she manages that, but the thought was only flitting as her lips pressed firmly into yours and her hands cupped your jaw as her thumbs brushed away the tears that you had no idea were even there.
And then she was telling you to breathe and you found yourself obeying without much thought.
Her voice was gentle and sincere and if you weren't mistaken, full of an undeniable love. And maybe it was the way she was looking at you, eyes shining with unshed tears in the moonlight, or the gentle way she was leaning slightly into you even though she was the one holding you up, but you felt it deep in your chest when she told you she loved you and that you didn't need to say it back for her to know. Because she knows. And it's okay.
It's okay for you to love her.
She wasn't going anywhere.