Chapter Two

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Cameron's POV:


"Cameron." I feel someone lightly shake me. "It's time to get up, sweetie."


I open my eyes, to find my grandmother standing beside me, smiling.


"Five more minutes." I mumble, before closing my eyes again.


"Five more minutes, and that's it. Your breakfast is on the table." She leaves, and shuts the door behind her without saying another word.


Five minutes, feels like five seconds in the morning. I'm sure everyone can relate to that, unless you're a morning person. Gross. I can't stand mornings. That's why on the weekends or during breaks, I usually sleep in past noon.


Just as I start to drift back to sleep, I hear a knock at my door. "Cameron, it's time to get up now dear."


I sigh, and drag my lazy ass out of bed and make my way to the kitchen. At least she made my favorite, pancakes. If it were up to me, I'd skip breakfast and get more sleep. But, my grandmother is always on me about my weight. She insists I eat as much as possible.


I love my grandmother though. If it weren't for her, I'd probably be in foster care. Or dead. She's practically raised me my whole life, and only wants the best for me. She's like the typical grandma. She makes me food, does my laundry, pesters me. She has grey hair that used to be blonde, and glasses. She still has the prettiest green eyes I've ever seen. I've lived with her and my grandfather since I was four, but he passed away two years ago.


I know she misses him deeply, I mean she tells me stories about him all the time. Even though I've heard them about a thousand times already, I still listen. They met when she was fourteen, and he was sixteen. They got married a couple years later. Just like my grandma, he was the typical grandparent. He always bought me candy, toys, basically whatever I wanted. Even if we were short on money, which we usually are. He was skinny, and had grey hair as well. A lot of old people do, but I swear when I get to be that age I'm still going to be dying my hair black. Anyways, they only had one child. My mother.


My mother, had to have been the most beautiful woman ever. She had long brown hair, and just gorgeous brown eyes. She had a nice smile too. I keep a lot of pictures of her in my room, and I wear this heart shaped necklace that belonged to her. I don't remember a lot about my childhood, but I try and remember every moment spent with her. I remember she told me when I got older, she was going to give me this necklace. So no matter where she was, her heart would always be with me. Now I have it, and I know her heart is with me.


She died when I was four. She overdosed on prescription pills, which she was addicted to. She was addicted to various other drugs as well. I know she loved me though, despite everything. It's easy to become addicted to something, I would know. I still remember everything like it was yesterday. She had been in her room for quite awhile, and I just thought she was sleeping. I sat by her side for three days straight, and just held her hand. I just wanted her to wake up, and I had no idea why she was 'sleeping' so long. Eventually after not hearing from us, my grandma called to see if everything was alright. I answered the phone and told her that mommy had been taking a very long nap. A few days later, was her funeral.


I didn't understand what had happened to her, or why she wasn't here anymore. I couldn't even imagine never seeing her again, or never spending another Christmas with her. I don't love many people, but I definitely loved her. I know I was young, but I feel like part of me died with her. Not a day goes by where I don't think about her. I remember a few weeks before she died, she got sober enough to take me to Disneyland for a few days. That was my first time ever going. That had to have been my favorite memory of her. Or maybe when she would read me bedtime stories, or sing to me even though she had a horrible singing voice.


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