𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑𝟔

trigger warning!

this chapter contains a fairly large amount of destructive behaviour in it, including alcohol abuse and self-harm.

i've put a set of stars around the possibly triggering mention of self-harm, which I advise you to skip over if needed.

for the record, i am not promoting camille's behaviour in the slightest. I simply aim to portray her ways of coping, and i'm very aware that they're harmful. although she is a fictional character, please be aware that i'm trying to convey real struggles that people face. if you are planning to be immature regarding these topics at any time, with all due respect, click off this story.

please read this chapter with caution.

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX what comes around goes around

❊ ❊ ❊

WITH MY LAST liquor bottle in hand, I walked the roads from the Chateau that were all too familiar for my liking. My blurred eyes watched each car slow down past me, taking in the sight of the utter mess that I was. Some part of me even started recognising some of the vehicles, the intoxication in me not being enough to erase the memories of this neighbourhood.

It was a quality that I needed least, especially since I was heading back to my house.

I hadn't stepped foot in that building since the night of May's accident. My mind could only imagine the state I had left it in, and how everything had come full circle. Where I was once innocently hoping my mother had changed, I had now changed into her. I was far too exhausted to care at this point, every bad word I had spoken against her coming back in a hypocritical sense.

'Merrimac Lane' read the sign at the start of the road, followed by a series of run-down homes with equally disturbing stories attached. I wasn't the only person with problems on this island. Each figure had a life of their own; some worth living, and some like mine.

Life was a cruel lottery. Either you were lucky enough to win a set of loving parents who nestled you in a white-picket paradise, or you were stuck on an endless carousel of substance abuse and an absent face in place of a mother.

That was the difference between me and Kiara; she had everything I wanted in life, yet wasted away each opportunity I would've killed for.

It was clear that no one in the group ever fully understood why she'd hang out with us. Whilst we were off working 9-5 shifts and slaving to even get a solid meal on the table, she got to live the 'Pogue life' from the comfort of her Figure 8 estate. I brushed off each questionable quality of hers, all for the sake of preserving the one friendship that wound up destroying me.

The one time I found the slightest shot of happiness away from the group, I was left to fend for myself all over again. Replaying every word that left her mouth clarified just how many signs I had missed around her, blinded by the idea of finally having friends.

Friendship was never something that should've come with a cost. There seemed to be a double standard for us, as every mistake that I made would've easily been forgotten if it came to the boys.

No one mentioned JJ's obvious addictions, or how Pope treated his parents, or the fact that John B was now with the sister of the very same guy I was exiled on behalf of.

It was different for me. It was always different for me. When I drank, I became a liability and an obstruction to them. When I had my problems with May, I was either too hard on myself or on her. And, when I had finally stumbled upon someone who cared for me beyond those things, I no longer served any purpose to them.

The existence of my days was structured around the fact that I felt wanted and, now that it wasn't the case anymore, I had to suffer in a state of confusion until someone else decided I was worthy of their time.

And I knew it was going to be a while before I was a center thought in someone's mind.

I stepped onto the chipped wood of my front porch, pausing to breathe before prying the entrance open. The month old bottles were still scattered across the living room floor, accompanied by the smell of beer that seemed to taint the air for as long as I remembered.

My back collapsed against the closed door as my eyes darted around each aspect of the room, taking in the years worth of memories I left behind- be it for better or for worse. Filling my mouth with the peach flavoured alcohol, I moved my tear-eyed focus onto the wall of framed pictures.

As if it was a plan to torture me further, the first image I laid my gaze upon was one of me and the group. I inspected the youthful smile painted across my face whilst my arms pulled me closer to Kiara and JJ, recognising the setting in a matter of seconds.

The photo was taken at The Wreck, presumably on one of my shifts seeing as I had the same red swimsuit on as I usually did in my times of being a waitress. My photographic grin shifted into one of naivety the longer I stared at the frame, knowing that no less than a year later I would be fired without the defence of those closest to me.

With the floodgates in my eyes not seeming to seal for as long as I continued looking at the frozen moment, I ripped the frame off the wall it was fixed to. The pads of my fingers traced over the glass before throwing it to the ground, watching it shatter into a dozen pieces at the sudden impact.

If only the bitter love I still had for them could be erased as fast as the once treasured moment.

I moved onto the next frame, making out the still of me and May from years back. I could only imagine it to be one of the last of my happy birthdays, the same living room I was in now rather decorated with balloons and other decorations of the sort. The younger version of myself was disguised by her innocence, holding onto my mother as if I wouldn't hate the person she'd become down the line.

Tears kept pouring from my eyes with each longer second spent on the photo, tearing it from the nails on the wall and letting it hit the floor like before. Each feeling of resentment grew into an ache in my chest, my current behaviour mirroring May's identically. An audible cry left my lips, only chased down with progressively more booze.

In my destructive path, I wasted no time in ripping the last image from its fixed placement. The last part of my dad that remained in the house was that very photo, held in between my fingers like fate in the hands of an overseer. His lips were pressed against May's cheek, a picturesque moment of their opposing relationship.

He left no explanation behind for his fatal actions except his empty Fentanyl prescription, which arguably hurt more than any written or typed word ever could. There wasn't a single strand of closure I could grasp onto, the coincidental date of his last breath leading me to the conclusion that it must've been my fault.

In many arguments that May and I had, it was always brought up that they were happier before me. By her drunken words, I was nothing but an accident that pushed them into debt, thereby digging my own father's grave with the simple act of existing. This world was cruel, and I couldn't blame him for wanting to leave.

I just wished my feelings weren't put on the line, as I knew I couldn't be granted the same escape he was- even if I desired it every now and then.

The last picture frame dissipated against the pre-existing pile of glass, leaving holes in the walls where the memories had once been mounted. My chest rose rapidly with every cry that left my lips, throwing me into an abyss of emotions I didn't know how to handle.

Since I had emptied the contents of every last glass bottle into my system, I turned my attention to the next best thing- cigarettes. The first stick of many rested in between my teeth, lit a few seconds later with my trusted white lighter.

Travelling down my throat, the potent smoke amplified the dizziness I was already feeling. I watched the end glow red with every drag I took, flicking the debris into May's ashtray that rested on the coffee table.

I allowed my body to collapse onto the brown leather couch, crossing my legs in front of me. Every tear that painted my skin sucked the emotion out of me, the feeling escaping with any last sign of care.

My eyes stayed glued to the cigarette flame, admiring how it devoured and destroyed the tobacco in its path. I brought it up to my lips one last time, using my free hand to peel back any fabric that covered my ankle.

***

I was met with the sight of various healed burns, every circular print having a tale of its own to tell. Like any other teenage girl who lived an equally insufferable life as mine, I didn't have the proudest methods when it came to coping.

Though drinking was preferred, it was times like these where I needed another form of pain to distract me from the one overwhelmingly looming in my chest.

Screwing my eyes shut, I let the tip pick it's target on my skin, inevitably leaving behind another mark to add to those already there. My teeth dug into my bottom lip, the salted taste of my tears lingering as if to haunt me further. I kept the stick in a fixed position, ensuring my body suffered as much as my mind was.

Even if it was harder to deal with, I knew everything that led to this moment was a result of my actions. Regardless of how much I'd prefer to have someone to pin everything on, it was me and my poor choices that trapped me back into this cycle of mental torture.

***

I sank deeper into the surface beneath me, dropping the burnt-out cigarette out from my fingers' grasp. A blank look possessed my face, completely drained as a result of my sequence of actions. They had worked in the most twisted way possible, halting any further sign of a tear from my eyes. In my mind, I found it better to be exhausted from physical hurt than it's emotional counterpart.

But, at this point, it was known that my thoughts were far from reliable.

My eyes moved to count each tile above my head, finding any distraction from the unbearable days that were bound to follow. I was left with nothing but the contents of these four walls, and it was easier to start finding healthier distractions sooner than later.

If I was able to step out of my body, I'd find myself staring at the person I'd grown into the same way I'd stare at May. I was copying her actions entirely, but it wasn't like I had ever had someone else to show me how to live in the way I was supposed to.

Someone who didn't end up leaving me, for that matter.

Before the thought of him could even graze my mind, I was snapped out of my daze of thoughts by the beep of our house phone. Even though I wasn't close to thinking of getting up, the numbness that overtook my body was quick to prevent any impending movement.

I suffered through countless repeats of the dial tone, letting the call die down on its own. I couldn't imagine the message being of any importance, seeing as I had never given my number to anyone. Whatever lowlife was on the receiving end was probably aiming for their best attempt at roping me into a false insurance claim, reassuring that I could remain glued to the couch for as long as my body wished.

To my dismay, the speaker continued to play the start of a recorded voicemail note, revealing a voice I wished I wouldn't hear for a long time.

"Hey, Cami. It's Rafe." the voice spoke through the machine, my throat closing up at the four spoken letters. "Uh, I know you're probably not thrilled to hear me speak right now, but I didn't know who else to call."

I swallowed stiffly at the phrase he used, thinking back to how I'd used that exact phone to speak the same words to him. If there was even a trace of a cry left in me, I knew that I'd be spilling every last part out by now.

"It's not like I really had anyone else on my mind anyway. I haven't been able to shake the thought of you for ages, and us being apart is only making that worse. I was an idiot, I am an idiot, and I know that. I'm sorry for hurting you, Cami. I keep saying that I won't, and then I do. And I'm sorry."

"Um, my dad kicked me out. I told you I wanted to get clean and, just like with everything else, I fucked up. I'm always fucking things up for us, and honestly I understand that you hate me."

"But, if some part of you misses me like I miss you, I'm staying at the Glisson's place. It's a few houses down from Tannyhill, y'know the dark grey one? I don't blame you if you'd rather stay with your friends, I've torn you away from them enough."

Rafe's mention of the Pogues made my eyes close in discomfort, remembering every vivid part of last night's argument. His voice trailed on inaudibly as I lost myself in the memories, only growing more angry compared to how upset I was previously.

"We both know I shouldn't make promises I can't keep, but I'm only gonna try my hardest to be good to you if you come back. I don't deserve a second chance, if you could even call it that after all the times you've forgiven me when I least deserved it. Call me back if you get this, just the sound of your voice will make me feel better again."

"I'll be waiting day and night for you."

Gathering any last strength I had left in me, I took hold of a pillow from the floor and aimed it at the phone, the soft cushion making little to no impact. Thinking of Rafe would only spark more sadness in me, and I had handled enough of the emotion over the passing hours.

I needed to be alone, even if it would feel better to have his arms around me. After everything I'd induced, it'd be mortifying to have anyone simply look in my direction. His words continued to repeat in my mind, despite the fact they had now been silenced by the act of him hanging up.

No matter if I wanted to or not, I knew I'd be losing sleep over him like he was over me. Except, he was staying up to wait for me, and I was staying up as a consequence of trying to distance myself away from him.

It was bound to be best for both of us, I reassured myself.

Maybe if I repeated the thought enough then I'd learn to believe it eventually.