all-too-well:

5 years pass. Camilla Belle hasn’t moved, hasn’t showered. Her eyes remain glazed over the window, waiting. Waiting for the moment. A herd of one hundred horses are approaching in the distance. A smile creeps over Camilla Belle’s face. “It’s time,” she whispers to herself, with tears welling up in her eyes. Camilla Belle grabs her iPhone 3GS with shaking hands. “@katyperry Couldn’t have said it better…” And that was it. On the twenty third of the seventh month of the year two thousand fifteen, Camilla Belle rose from the dead.