((god i am the worst partner ever anyway i love these two so much and have literally like, not stopped thinking about them))
The first memories that showed in Cammy's mind were happy.
Images of the beach, warm golden sands and the ocean, kids running around in brightly colored bathing suits and her mother, a kind looking woman with earth-brown hair and tanned skin, calling after them to be careful. Slowly, the memories changed, the children growing with them. There was one, of a small-ish kitchen packed full of kids all clambering over one another to mix things, crack eggs and pull pans out of the oven, all overseen by their mother.
And then, a tombstone. Ironically, it had rained the day they buried their mother. The skies were overcast and seemed almost projected, by the kids surrounding the grave, hands clasped. Dressed in black, with accents of bright color.
Then began the meeting rooms, police cars and men and women dressed in business casual, Cammy and her siblings fighting tooth and nail to keep with each other before suddenly, Cammy was all alone.
The first foster home was fine, if a little cold. Maybe that had been her fault.
The second one was full of arguing, slammed doors and Cammy ushering kids into bedrooms and telling them stories, to distract from the sounds of unhappiness downstairs.
And then-