Camila's Pov

I use up all of the effort I can muster, letting out a forced shaky breath, before allowing myself to fall back to the ground. That makes twenty-four. My arms shake with the strain they've been put under, but still, I'm not tired. I feel like pure energy is coursing through my veins, making me restless as I try to shake it all out or, at the very least, use it all up. Twenty-four push-ups, thirty sit-ups, and countless laps of my cell and still, I can't wear myself out enough to sleep. I don't get it. Usually, I can do half of what I've done to get myself to sleep but now, when I'd rather risk the consequences of an afternoon nap than continue to be attacked by what she dug up in that stupid new thing she tried, it's impossible. My whole body is weary, but I could probably lap the prison's halls at least ten times before growing fatigued.

It's no use. I slam the sides of my fists into the ground to push myself back up to sit in the center of the cell with my knees tucked up to my chest. The tears that have burned the backs of my eyes since she took the goddamn cuffs off of me begin to trail down my face, leaving behind them a sweltering trail, but even that is not enough to draw me from my own mind. I'm falling, and I can't put my hands out to catch myself. My vision blurs, and I'm no longer here.

"Karla."

My heart leapt into my throat. I didn't bother trying to hide the evidence of my wrongdoing under the covers. Last time, he'd whipped them away the moment he entered the room. I doubted this time would be any different. I remained silent, even as the door swung open, even as he gave me a snarl seemingly reserved only for his most troublesome daughter. Sofia had yet to disappoint him. I hoped she never would.

"What did I tell you about those juguetes?"

I hung my head, jaw clenching as I let the bear fall from my hand. It had fallen from his crate last week before he left for the border. I knew I should've given her to Mami, but she was just too soft. I wanted to keep her for just a few days before she became a mula; I should've known better.

"Eres una idiota?" He snapped, making me flinch back.

I shook my head, but he stepped closer to me, reaching down to snatch the bear from the ground. He regarded it for a second or so before turning it over and tearing open its back. I winced once more, looking up to his dark eyes, though they were focused on his actions as he rummaged about within the bear. Clumps of white stuffing floated to the ground around our feet. I was old enough to know that teddy bears weren't really alive, but I still felt my chest tighten at the thought that maybe, just maybe, it was in pain. His hand returned to view, clutching a small plastic bag filled with paper scraps, though I knew that wasn't all it contained, a mere cover to hide his most valuable product. My eyes widened. I was in big, big trouble now.

Finally, he met my eyes again, though I kept mine down. "300 American dollars, mija." His voice was calm, too calm. It sent shivers up my back. "No eres más que una molestia inútil. How are you going to pay me back, hmm? No tienes valor."

My heart pounded at the thought of the lesson he might teach me now. "Please, Papi, I didn't know, I-"

"Cállate! I told you not to touch these! You have enough as it is, and yet you are greedy and take what is not yours." He all but growled, throwing the now-limp sack of a bear onto my bed, next to my only comfort in the form of Bella, a small knitted doll. Even she didn't make me feel better anymore. In fact, she scared me. She was all messed up from when Mami used her to teach me how to keep my face straight. "Come with me." He ordered, turning to leave the room. I hesitated, but quickly ran after him when he yelled, "Now!"

"No, no, no, no, no," I chant.

I tighten my hold on my legs until my arms ache again. I look about myself wildly, seeing my cell but only hearing my bedroom, his booming voice.

"No, he's gone," I tell myself with a frown. "He is, right? Yeah, he is, because—"

My body springs up before I can go there again. The room is already blue, but it turns a stranger, deeper shade as it blurs, and I stumble forward. Clenching my fists, I root myself in this feeling, in the pins and needles that consume me now, in the dizziness that makes me feel both like I'm floating and sinking at the same time. My body needs to eat, I know, but I don't have to. I was good at those lessons. I was good at those. They would almost smile when I passed those tests, and they got easier each time, and I passed them more and more. I can get through this one, too.

I find myself smiling now as I head towards the door, chipping away another shard of the rusted corner in order to slide the slot open to see the other side, to gain some attention. They'll take it from me, but they won't fix the door. They haven't made any effort to do so since the first time I tried this. Once the slot is open, I peer out into the hall before slipping my arm through it, aimlessly slamming against the outside of the door. It won't take long until someone comes to restrain me, and then I can sleep, and I can forget about the doctor's tricks.

...

Lauren's POV

"Hello, Camila," I greet her as I enter the room. She doesn't respond, but I didn't really expect her to. I make my way to her seat and lay her file and a pencil upon the table before looking up at her. Once I do, my brows knit together. I've grown so used to the loathsome Camila, the one now occupying her seat seems like a whole other human, sharing only the same basic features. I wouldn't be surprised to find she'd somehow been replaced by an identical twin. "Camila?" I call gently.

She doesn't lift her head, instead opting to look up at me with just her eyes, distant as ever but now even duller than before. A subtle pout causes her cheeks to push out ever so faintly, causing her entire face to seem softer than usual. The slightest of creases sits between her tented eyebrows. She looks... innocent. Childlike, almost. Much too benign to be a Cabello, and yet she is.

I clear my throat, opening her file. "Can you tell me about the memory you visited?" I ask, and she finally scoffs.

I expect some biting remark to follow but, yet again, she shocks me with her tenderness as she speaks, barely above a whisper. "Which one?" When she shakes her head, I figure her words weren't meant for anyone's ears but her own. Before I can question my reasoning, my hand reaches out to squeeze hers gently as a means of reassuring her. She only tenses under my touch, however, so I quickly take it back. She cracks her neck, licking her lips before letting them settle in a more usual position. "What's your next experiment, then?"

I raise a brow, not expecting her to be quite so willing to work with me after just a few sessions, but quickly gather my surprise in case it deters her. "I'd like to get you out of those cuffs again."

She shakes her head, eyes growing wide as she pulls her hands back as far as they're allowed.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Trust—"

"Trust is earned, doctor. No offence, but you haven't done much to earn mine yet, and you should know better than to give me yours."

"What would you rather do, then?" I counter.

She gapes like a fish for a moment, mouth opening and shutting as she debates which witty response to use, no doubt. Finally, she huffs, tossing herself back in her seat. "I'd rather go back to my cell. I've a very busy schedule, y'know. I've got some pacing to catch up on, along with some existentious-whatever bullshit."

"Sounds riveting," I comment sarcastically, turning back down to her file. "How about you let me take those handcuffs off, I'll make the session twice as fast and let you go back to that 'busy schedule'?" Glancing up at her, I catch a small smirk making its way onto her face. Thankfully, she doesn't hold my gaze for very long as she looks over to the opening door. She frowns when Dinah enters the room cautiously but doesn't bring her hands back towards the center of the table. If anything, she strains to pull them even closer to herself.

Dinah taps on my shoulder, resting her hand on the table as she bends down to whisper in my ear, "The warden came 'round. He says she can't be let out today 'cause she went a bit cuckoo last night."

I frown, looking back over at my patient who now seems to be seething as she glares at Dinah's back. When she catches my staring, she juts her chin out before her intimidating expression melts as she begins to draw patterns on the table with her fingertip.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, turning back to Dinah.

"She tried to get out." She shrugs, adding when I remain silent, "She stuck her arm out the door, started looking sick and wouldn't eat dinner. I heard they almost took her down to the nurse this morning but she wolfed her breakfast down like no one's business."

I hum as I consider this. Perhaps it was a result of her earlier attack. I'd have to be a little more careful not to trigger another one. "Okay, thanks for letting me know," I tell Dinah, who nods.

"Is there anything else I can do, or...?" She asks, and I smile at her eagerness but deny her, explaining that we'll be fine as we are for today. She nods, turning to Camila as she stands.

The woman's head whips up immediately, with a wide-eyed expression plastered across her face. "Please don't," She blurts, pulling so harshly on the cuffs that I'm surprised she doesn't break the skin.

Dinah puts her hands up as if in surrender, looking back to me for support.

"Hey," I call, gaining Camila's attention, and shake my head. "She's not going to."

Camila looks between us both before huffing, shoulders dropping as she slowly rests her hands back on the table between us. With one last glance at the inmate, Dinah leaves. The door clicks shut behind her.

"Why can't we take them off, Camila? Why are you so desperate to keep them on?"

She shakes her head softly. "I don't want to hurt anyone," she whispers. "You... you haven't gained my trust yet, but you're not an enemy." Her eyes find mine on the last word, and I can see just how sincere she is. "Neutral..." She frowns, glancing to the side. "Right? That's, like, middle-ish?" I nod, and she gives one in return.

"How might I go about earning your trust?" I then ask, and she snorts, rolling her eyes.

"Un-become a doctor, Doc. Then I might consider it."