Chapter Sixteen

2.7K 70 4
                                    

Chapter sixteen

Cameron’s POV

Three hours before

            “Rick? Rick you here?” someone calls, stirring me slightly and I hear a door open. A body under me moves fast and I open my eyes and find Rick throwing on a pair of pants quickly. His head snaps over his shoulder and I follow his gaze to the boy who stands on the other side of the couch looking at us.

“Shit.” I curse before reaching and grabbing my shirt and throwing it over me, finding that I am in my bra and underwear. Tears burn my eyes as I realize what I have done.

“Xander and Marcus are going to love this.” The boy says, smirking as he looks at me, then to the black box on the coffee table, then to Rick. “Little Ms. Cameron is going bad huh? And you’re the one teaching her.” He pulls out his phone and begins taking pictures of the evidence which makes my heart stop.

“Get out.” Rick hisses as I am tugging on my bottoms, tears spilling down my cheeks.

“Hey, I need my keys…” the boy says as I grab mine and hurry to the door, reaching for the door knob but it moves under my hands, playing tag with me.

A sob escapes my throat and finally I am able to grab the door handle.

“Cameron…” Rick says behind me as I throw the door open and hurry outside, the stairs moving under me as I try to walk down them.

“I will tell Xander you said hey!” the boy calls after me and I sprint the rest of the way across the yard. I get inside my car and turn the ignition, not hesitating one second of my time.

I pull out of the driveway quickly, driving onto the road, faster than I should be. The road moves like waves of the ocean and I try my hardest to stay in my lane and on the road. The trees melt like candle wax and flood the streets with their waxing hands that reach for my car. I scream and swerve around them, trying to get away from their grasp.

Finally I get to my house and run inside, running, swerving, trying to escape the hands of the trees and bushes that reach for me as I run through the door. When I get inside I slam the door shut and lock it quickly. I feel something crawling on my feet and I look down, finding thousands of ants crawling on me.

I scream once more and swat at them, shaking my legs and stomping my feet, trying to get them off me. I swat at my face and arms, screaming and clawing at my skin.

Finally I run down the hallway and to her bedroom, shutting the door and looking around, everything was as she left it.

“Mom?” I call weakly, my eyes searching the room. I walk into the bathroom that is conjoined with her room, hoping to find her touching up her makeup or running a bath, but she isn’t there. “Mom?” I call once more, checking her closet, the entire room, even under the bed.

Finally I collapse on the bed, tears running down my cheeks.

“Mom, please come home, please. I need you.” I sob, clutching one of her pillows to my chest, the scent of her shampoo reaching my nose. “Mommy?”

But I knew that I could call for her, cry for her, and ache for her, but my mother wasn’t coming back.

∞        

            Three hours later I sit on the couch, clutching my favorite mug with both hands in a firm grip. I am staring at the TV screen that shows SpongeBob flipping Crappy Patties. I have the sound off as for I am just watching the picture and enjoying the silence.

            The house phone rings and I jump slightly at the sudden noise. I reach t the table beside the couch and grab the house phone before answering.

The Bad Boy or His BrotherWhere stories live. Discover now