She wakes up every morning, stretches her arms out, and snuggles into the warm crevice between two bodies. He doesn't love you. She promised not to sneak away as much anymore, and she's kept to her promise, almost every single day. She waits until at least one of them wakes up, before trying to beat them both to the shower. He doesn't care if you're there or not. She always does, because they just want her to be happy, and she's the only one who's making a game of it. She showers first, and she takes her time, but she always leaves the door open in case they want to join her. He never does. Her darker lover always forces her to dry her hair outside of the bathroom, because it takes too long and she'll never leave. He doesn't care what you're doing. She assures it's for a good cause, as is her meticulous makeup regimen. She has to look perfect. He doesn't look at you anymore. Her hair has to be curled at the ends, and combed until it shines. Her lips have to be glossy pink, and sometimes glittery. Her eyes need just the right shade of shadow to make them smoulder. When she looks in the mirror, she feels sorry for anyone who isn't as beautiful as she is. He's not looking. But eventually she's done, and it's time to start the day.

She's never woken up, she tells herself. She's still curled up, safe and sound, between them. She's happy and warm and home and loved, where no one will ever hurt her again. She's there, and this life is just a dream she has to play out until it ends.

But it won't end well.

And he won't be there.

She remembers the last time she cried. She was alone, in her room. She misses it, suddenly. The freedom, the chance to get away before anyone can hurt her, before she goes too far. He's grown tired of you. It was the very first place she'd ever considered just 'hers'. Not her parents. Not her partners. Just hers. It was filled with only her things, and no one elses. You can smell him on your clothes, no matter how many times you wash them. But they promised her they wouldn't hurt her, and she had nothing to be scared of. They promised her.

He promised her.

He touched you when no one else was looking, and you can't forget. You've been trying all your life, haven't you? Has he ever gotten out of your head?

Her hair still looks perfect, even after a whole day of work. She brushes through it anyway, just in case. In the mirror she's smiling, and the reflection smiles back. Love, pure and simple, shines from her face.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall." She can hear Cami laughing. "Who's the fairest of them all?"

You know the answer, her reflection tells her. It's him. It's always him, and not you.

She puts the comb down, and stops smiling.

You didn't stop him when they left you alone with him. You didn't tell anyone. You believed him when he told you he was only doing it because he loved you. You believed him when he told you it wasn't wrong. But it was your fault he got tired of you. It must have been. You should have been prettier. You should have been someone else.

"It's happening again, isn't it?" She asks her reflection, but it's Cami who answers. She picks up her comb, and waves the question away. It wasn't meant for her. It wasn't meant for anyone.

She hears him coming home late, later than they were able to wait up. She listens, as he tries to undress and get ready for bed without waking them up. He doesn't know that she can't sleep anymore until she knows he's sleeping, and can't run away. He doesn't know that she listens, and she waits, every day. He doesn't know because he doesn't care.

She can see the curves of his body outlined by the blanket in the light of the lamp that's always on. She wants to reach out and run her hand along the valley of it, but she knows she'll be discovered, and he'll shy away. She doesn't move, because she needs to pretend he loves her. She listens to him breathing beside her and conjures up the sight of him sleeping while turned towards her, from memory. She can hear his breath slow, and match Cami's in perfect rhythm. She blinks, and forces herself to see the way his body used to lie so relaxed against hers, full of trust and comfort. The way Cami's lies against her back now. She turns her head and forces herself to memorize the way Cami looks, as well, because the inevitable will happen. She's confident of it now.

They sleep, and another day bleeds away. She's awake, busy memorizing the way Cami feels when she still loves her, to use as fuel to survive when she's inevitably left alone in a waking nightmare. But that's all right, she's never really alone.

He loved you, once. Now he doesn't, and you still do. You're alone on that porch again, waiting for something that will never come. And it's all your fault.