[Kamila stood in the doorway, the light in her eyes fading slowly. The room, which use to occupy several of Sherlock’s experiments and instruments, was empty. Their cages that they worked so hard to make, his violin, everything…Everything had left. Sherlock had left. He wasn’t here anymore.]
[She hated crying. Stubbornly, but the tears dripped down from her eyes and to the floor anyways. The little lady begins to tremble, putting in little effort to hold herself together.]
….So you had to leave me too?
[Kamila asked the empty room.]
But why? I-It’ s not fair…I…
[A sob escapes her lips before she continues.]
Sherlock…I loved you! I loved you so much! Y-You were…You were…
[She falls onto her knees, her arms wrapped around her trembling body.]
You were one of the greatest friends I ever had. Why did you leave me?
[There’s a quiver to her voice now, and every other word is cracked. She dully noted her dry throat or the immense trembling her body was doing—-the thing that weighed the little lady down the most was her aching heart.
This always happened. Why did she expect it to be any different now? So many people have left her. and they would only continue to leave.]
…Are you happy?
[Kamila swallows a few of her tears.]
Are you happy now, Ringmaster? Is this what you wanted? Is this part of your game!?
[She stumbles to her feet, lifting her face up. She glares intensely at the naked wall in front of her.]
Please…please I just want to go home! I can’t do anything for you! Please, you’ve done enough! Just let me go home! Please!
[She begged, perhaps pathetically. Kamila was tired of being strong. It was too much. She never asked for this. She never wanted to meet anyone if this was the result..never ending lonely-ness. It was suffocating and eating her alive.
The only sound in the trailer is Kamila’s soft sobs and tears hitting the floor. She’s cried a lot within these few months, but never this much. It was all too overwhelming of a concept, people leaving, being taken away from home, not even being allowed a goodbye.
She would never see anyone ever again. Not a single person. This situation was not fit for an eight year old to handle.]
..If I can’t go home, just…end my time here…
[She whispers, her tears drying away. The ache was gone, but now Kamila felt completely numb. Her once natural smiles felt like a chore. She walked in a zombie like manner to the same couch Sherlock use to occupy before plopping herself on it.]
I’ll just lay here…
[She mumbles to herself, nuzzling a pillow and clinging onto it for affection.]
I’ll just lay here until I get to go home or the ringmaster just…
[Kamila whimpers, unable to finish her own sentence. She takes little note of her trailer door that was slightly open. Really, Kamila didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything anymore. It hurt too much to care, and she had learned that the hardest way an eight year old could.]