"In a sick way, I prefer nightmares. I hate good dreams because I know when I wake up, you won't be there," I whispered, willing her to stay. Don't go, don't leave. But she was already turning around. "I wish I could have told you that you've owned me from the very start. It was always you. It's always been you," I continued, desperate now. Her eyes turned to me, studying my face. "It's too late," she said, giving me a sad smile before disappearing in my life. *** Rule Number One: Keep your șhit together. I am Cameron St. Laurent. Lies. I am filled with them. Self-destruction. That's my middle name. Love of my life: Cammilla Hawthorne. I need her as much as I need air to breathe. Last words I've said to her: "Don't justify your love for me when you know it's all sorts of wrong." Current Status: About to blow my șhit apart. *** WARNING: This story contains mature language/swearing. Enter at your own risk. *hands you a waiver, pencil & a chocolate bar* *** Spitfire in Love. Copyright © August 2014. All Rights Reserved.