TWENTY-FOUR

 

S P R I N G   B R E A K, L A S T   Y E A R

 

I WAKE UPjust after seven alone in Cam's bed. I assume he must have gone to the bathroom because the boy would never get up this early if he didn't absolutely have to. I groan inwardly, knowing I'll have to feign sleep until he returns and falls back into a deep slumber - deep enough that I can slip out of bed undetected.

I have it all planned out in my head. I'll drive to the sheriff's station, tell Sheriff Chipley what Robin did, file the complaint, and then come back here. By then Cam should just be waking up, but just in case, I'll leave him a note that says I went to the store to buy "girl stuff", which he will take to mean tampons. He'll give me grief for driving in the rain, but fortunately the storm has already begun to quell. It's still pouring out, but the winds have died down. I'll have to drive extra cautiously, but as long as the roads aren't too bad, I should be able to get to the station okay.

I hate lying to Cam, but it's my only option. Because if he knew where I was really going, he'd insist on coming with me, but not before making me agree to wait until after he has time to go confront Robin.

And that's the last thing I'd ever want. Even though Cam would certainly hold his own in a physical altercation, Robin can do damage, I know that better than anyone, and I couldn't bear it if Cam was to get hurt. Especially because of me. He'd also likely be brought up on assault charges if he went after Robin, and that's the last thing he needs. God, if he did anything to jeopardize his plans to study in New York, I could never forgive myself.

I force myself to keep my eyes closed and regulate my breathing, waiting for Cam to climb back into bed beside me. When five more minutes pass, I risk peeking, and find the room still empty.

Can he really be up already? And where the hell would he have gone?

I roll over to the night table on my side of the bed to get my cell phone.

Where is my phone?

I definitely left it here, I know because I wanted it handy to check the time to make sure I got up early enough, and I didn't want to have to pull out of Cam's arms to see the cable box, for fear my movement might wake him. I slip out of bed and look all over for it - under the night table, under the bed, under my pillow, but it's nowhere.

Great. No Cam and no phone.

I tiptoe into the hall, still in just Cam's football tee shirt, but the bathroom door is wide open, clearly showing the empty room. I pad downstairs and find the kitchen empty, along with the rest of the house. I check the garage, thinking he may be working out - probably beating the sand out of his punching bag again - but it, too, is deserted.

I hurry back upstairs, increasingly unnerved. Where the hell is he?

I grab one of his portable landline phones and dial his cell, but it goes straight to voicemail without even ringing. I pull on my sweatpants, thinking he must have gone next door to my house for some unsurmisable reason. It's strange that he didn't leave me a note, but he probably assumed I'd still be asleep when he returned, just like I did of him.

Then I realize I didn't even look for a note. I walk over to his desk knowing that if Cam did leave one, it would be in his journal, which he would have left open to the appropriate page for me to find. He used to leave notes there for me before we were old enough to have cell phones, and the habit didn't die when the reason for it did.

But his desk is empty. Where the hell is his journal?

I distinctly remember him getting up last night to write, and then abandoning it on his desk when I asked him to come back to bed.

I look around again, my brows pinched together in confusion, and then I see it. Cam's journal is open on the foot of his side of the bed. It's completely out of character for him to just leave it so carelessly around like this. He treats that thing like a priceless treasure.

A quick glance shows me that there is no note, just a long - and judging by his handwriting - rushed and angry, journal entry. I quickly avert my eyes, knowing that he would never want me to read one of his journal entries, and in my hasty glance, I saw my name, so I know it's about me.

Of course it's about you!

I cringe, knowing that Cam got up in the middle of the night to vent because of me. Knowing that he was so preoccupied about me and Robin, and everything I told him last night, that he forwent sleep to unload in his journal. I never wanted to be a burden to my best friend, and now, I fear, that's exactly what I've become.

But where the fuck is he?

I try his cell from the landline once more with the same frustrating result.

I don't know what to do next. I need to get to the sheriff's station soon, or my plan won't work.

I war with myself. I know that Cam's last journal entry might give me a clue as to where he went, but I've never betrayed his trust in the fourteen years we've been best friends, and I really don't want to start now. I change my mind back and forth at least twenty times before I compromise with myself. I decide I will read just the last sentence, because if the information I need is in there, that's likely where it is, and if it's not, then I'll just need to find him some other way.

I sit down, careful not to even touch the journal in case he remembers exactly how he'd left it and catches me in my transgression that way. I'm incredibly anxious - I've never read one of Cam's personal journal entries before, ever; I've only ever read his stories, and only with his express permission.

The last sentence reads:

It's a long run-on sentence, completely unlike Cam, and there's no period, making it look as if he stopped writing abruptly. I sit here for a moment, perplexed, before the panic sets in.

My phone.

Where the fuck is my phone?!

And then I see the corner of it peeking out from beneath the journal, and I realize that Cam did, in fact, look through my phone. Which means he saw Robin's messages. I don't know why this bothers me so much, honestly, they just confirm the story I already described to him. In detail. So he'll see Robin insisting that I belong to him, analyzing my "daddy issues", calling me stupid, so what?

I try to convince myself I believe this - that I'm not suffocating from shame knowing that Cam, my best friend and the person I love and respect most in the world, saw firsthand how I've been letting my boyfriend treat and talk to me, as he said, for months.

And then my heart stops.

My breath catches in my throat and a wave of nausea rolls through me as I finally realize where Cam is. I grab my keys and try his cell again as I rush out of the house, pausing only to pull on one of Cam's hoodies that hangs on the stair rail and shove my feet into a random pair of his mom's shoes before running to my jeep. Cam's phone goes straight to voicemail again so I hit redial as I pull out into the rain.

Damn it's still coming down hard.

I have no idea what time Cam read my text messages and realized Robin was already home - that he's been home since last night. I loathe to think how long Robin and Cam might have already been alone together and what might have happened. I just pray I can catch them before their confrontation unfolds - before it escalates into something terrible. I curse myself when I realize how much time I wasted traipsing around his house looking for him like an idiot when the answer was right in front of me the whole time.

My windshield wipers swipe back and forth over the fogged up glass as fast as the settings will allow, and still I squint and blink in vain, barely able to see more than a few feet in front of me. I dial Cam again as I turn onto Maple Drive, heading into town. I'm stuck at a red light before I can turn onto Main Street and my cell phone rings.

Thank God!

But when I look at the caller ID, I see it isn't Cam. I press "reject" when I see it's Chip calling me, knowing I don't have time to bullshit with him right now. My jeep progresses down Main Street at little more than a crawl.

Chip calls again, and I press "reject" before the first ring has even finished. I bet he's looking for Cam, too, and decided to try me when he got his voicemail.

As I creep down Main, I start to make out lights in the distance. As I approach, I recognize the flashes of red and blue through the fog, and finally, I'm stopped by a police officer in full storm gear flagging me down. I pull over and roll my window as little as I can get away with to avoid getting completely soaked like he is. He's a young officer, and I don't recognize him, which is strange since I know most of them here in Linton. But I guess most isn't all.

"You gotta go around, road's closed," he shouts to be heard over the loud rain.

Damn. There must be a power line down - it always happens when there's a bad storm. I can go around, of course, instead of straight through town, but it will add at least twenty minutes to the trip in this weather and I'm not sure I have twenty minutes. God only knows what's already happening between Cam and Robin at this very moment.

"It's kinda an emergency. There's no way I can just drive through?" I plead, but he shakes his head.

"Sorry, sweetheart. And you should get on home, shouldn't be drivin' in this," he admonishes.

I scowl. "Don't call me that," I mutter and hastily close my window, reverse, and head back to Maple to go around the park. An ambulance flies by me in the opposite direction, and I grumble under my breath that they're not being made to go around the park.

My phone rings again.

Chip, again.

Why is he bugging me anyway, shouldn't he think I'm in Gainesville with Robin?

Although I guess if he spoke to Cam at any point yesterday he might have mentioned I'm not... or Lacey might have mentioned Robin came home early.

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, I arrive on the Forbes' block. My heart races more and more the closer I get to the house in which I'd been hurt so many damn times. Beads of sweat break out all over my body as the it comes into view, and my breaths come short and quick. I don't know what's wrong with me and I park outside the house, not sure if I can even drag myself out of the car.  

I'm overcome with terror at the prospect of seeing Robin again, and as a phantom steel band tightens around my chest, I realize something.

Cam's car isn't even in the driveway. He's not here.

What the fuck? Where the fuck is he?!

My phone rings again. Chip again! Ugh, I do not have time for this!

"What?!" I answer finally. I hear him breathing on the line, but he hesitates.

"Rory?" he asks tentatively. Well who the hell else would it be? He called me!

"Yes, Chip! I'm busy, what's up?"

And then my world is thrown off its axis.

****

 

I sit in the back of the police cruiser doing nothing but counting breaths in a pointless attempt to both calm my breathing and to make the longest car ride of my life go faster.

When Chip asked where I was, something in his voice made me tell him the truth. He insisted I wait right there, but wouldn't tell me anything, and already I knew something was very, very wrong. He came with his dad to pick me up, and now, time stands still as I sit here in the backseat, curled in a pitiful ball, while Chip stares at me in worry, and his father, the sheriff, drives us to the hospital. Their words replay in my mind.

Cam was in an accident.

We don't know anything yet.

It's bad, Rory.

I take wheezing breaths and don't make eye contact with either Chipley man. They've given up on reassuring me or asking if I'm alright. It's more than obvious I'm not alright.

Cam was in an accident. He was the reason Main Street was closed. And I was there! I was right there and I never thought...

I just turned right around and continued on to Robin's house.

No one could tell me anything about Cam's condition, but his car is completely totaled. Michelle, his mom, is already at the hospital, of course, she was on call and has been there since Friday.

I cry silent tears and count, and pray, and count, and pray. I pray to a God I'm not even sure I believe in, because I know Cam does believe, and right now, I would do absolutely anything for him to be okay.

I don't even let myself consider the worst, because I know it isn't possible. I know I couldn't survive without my best friend, not even if I wasn't dealing with my own personal issues, because those don't compare to the prospect of Cam being hurt.

I just sit here in my little ball, replaying Cam's promise over and over in my mind. He said he'd never leave me, and Cam has never lied to me, ever. He wouldn't start now. Not when he knows I need him more than ever.

When we finally arrive at the hospital, I don't wait for the car to fully stop outside the emergency entrance before I try to flee from the back seat. But the door handle won't budge. I yank and push and even kick it as Chip tries to calm me down, reminding me that I can't open the back door of a police cruiser from the inside, but I barely hear him.

I'm screaming my lungs out in desperation when Sheriff Chipley finally opens the door and I practically tumble out of the car. I don't cry anymore, I try desperately to focus, I need to find Cam, he needs me right now. Both Chipleys shout after me as I bolt into the emergency room and ask the first person I see where Cam is, but I'm told to have a seat and wait.

Wait?! I can't fucking wait!

I start shouting at the poor woman stuck at the reception desk, demanding to see Cam, but she just glares at me as if she sees a crazy girl flipping out in the waiting room on a daily basis, which she probably does, and it frustrates me even more.

I throw Cam's mom's name around, and that gets a reaction. Dr. Michelle Foster is a big deal here, but though the reception nurse picks up her phone to make a call on my behalf, she isn't moving fast enough, and I'm jumping out of my skin, looking around in desperation. My eyes dart to the automatic doors that lead past the waiting room, and when Sheriff Chipley asks the receptionist about Cam's status, I take advantage of her distraction and run right through them without looking back, only vaguely aware of my name being called in an attempt to stop me.

Not a chance.

I look up and down the hall in both directions, at a loss for where to go, so I make a choice and turn left, alternately shouting for Dr. Foster and Cam's name. A doctor I don't know tries to stop me but I push past him looking into the patient rooms as I pass, but all I see are a bunch of people I don't know with various injuries. I still don't cry, but I can't get a hold on my breathing, and my lungs are in a constantly unfulfilled state, getting enough air to take short breaths, but not enough to satisfy the burning sensation.

I'm grabbed from behind and I scream and flinch back, trying desperately to wrench myself out of the stranger's grip, but he doesn't relent. I hurt all over - my injuries smarting from his hold and my resistance. Belatedly I realize that it isn't a stranger at all - it's the sheriff - but this realization doesn't stop me from struggling.

I need to find Cam!

"Rory, please calm down!" Sheriff Chipley loud whispers into my ear as Chip looks on in stunned horror. But he's not looking at me like I'm crazy, no. Because even though he is more composed, I know he shares my distress. Cam is one of his best friends, too.

But Cam isn't just my best friend. He's the only person in the world who really knows me, who I trust. And I need him! Especially now - he knows that. He knows that. I finally take a deep breath. Yes, he knows that, and he promised I'd always have him, that he'd never leave me, and Cam would never break a promise.

But I need to find him, to see that he's okay with my own eyes, to tell him I'm sorry he got hurt because of me.

I scream his name as loud as my vocal chords will allow, and out of the corner of my eye, I see a doctor rush out of a door halfway down the hall. I turn toward the white coat and see that it's Michelle. I pull myself away from the sheriff, who finally releases me, and run to her. She throws her arms around me and I cry into her scrubs.

"Come on," she says weakly when I've begun to calm down, and she nods for the sheriff and Chip to follow us as she leads us to the doctors lounge.

There's only one other person in there, a doctor I recognize as a friend of Dr. Foster. Michelle tells me that Cam is in surgery. He's suffered extensive internal injuries and subdural hematoma, which translates to bleeding in his brain. It's touch and go. I don't ask her if he's going to be alright. From the expression on her face, I can feel her fear, and I'm not sure I can handle the answer.

I know I've gone white as a sheet, and I still haven't quite caught my breath. The doctor's lounge is empty save for the five of us, and I sit here, frozen, gripping Cam's mom's hand as time barely seems to pass at all.

I couldn't begin to guess how long it's been when the landline in the doctor's lounge rings and we all jump. I release Dr. Foster's hand as she gets up to answer. I can only hear her side of the short conversation.

"Okay... sure... show them to the lounge," she murmurs, her voice weak and shaky, nothing like the Dr. Michelle Foster I've known almost my whole life. She's scared, really scared, and that knowledge terrifies me all the more.

God, please let Cam be okay! I'll do anything! I silently plead, bargain, negotiate, and beg.

Michelle is back on the phone asking someone about Cam's status in surgery, but judging from her face she isn't getting any useful information, so I just sit there trying to breathe.

And then the door to the lounge opens and my eyes widen in horror. Robin is here.

God, no!

I stare in shock as he rushes over to me and wraps his arms around me in attempted comfort. Lacey hangs back, her eyes glistening with tears as Cindy Forbes rubs her back in consolation.

And suddenly, I can take no more.

"Don't touch me! Don't you fuckin' touch me!" I screech, wriggling from Robin's arms and shoving at his chest to get him away from me. I shoot out of my chair as soon as I'm free of that monster's hold and back away from him.

I'm vaguely aware that everyone in the room is staring at me like I've lost my mind, but I don't care. I can't let him touch me - never again. Robin looks stunned, and I resent him all the more. He approaches me cautiously, and I retreat until my back hits the wall, but still he stalks toward me.

"Sweetheart, it's okay," he coos.

I hold out my hand to stop him. "Don't you 'sweetheart' me! Don't you come near me! This is your fault!" I rant, and I know I sound insane, blaming Robin for Cam's car accident, but it is his fault! He's the reason Cam was driving in the storm - the reason he was distracted.

Robin doesn't relent, he takes two slow steps so he's right in front of me, and when he reaches out to touch me again, I lose it.

Screams rip from my throat, my hands swatting at him in hatred as he tries to placate me, telling me everything is okay and that I don't know what I'm saying. But I know exactly what I'm saying.

"No! Don't touch me! Why are you even here?! You hate Cam!"

Sheriff Chipley, suspicious of the entire exchange, sets his hand on Robin's shoulder in warning, and when Chip grabs my arms from behind me, I realize I haven't stopped hitting Robin. I try to wrench from Chip's grip, but my friend whispers for me to calm down and tightens his hold, and I wince as my injuries are aggravated.

"I'm here for you, sweetheart! Why are you actin' like this? I love you!" From Robin's expression one might believe that he is truly innocent - genuinely confused at my outburst.

"You love me?! You don't love me! Cam loves me! He would never hurt me! I hate you! This is your fuckin' fault! I told him what you did to me and he was comin' to confront you! He's hurt because of you!" I scream, and continue to rant, and Chip releases my arms and steps in front of me, his face hard and inquisitive as he grabs one of the sleeves of Cam's hoodie, and shoves it up my forearm.

There is a collective gasp as my wrist is revealed, but my glare never leaves Robin, pummeling him with bitterness and rage.

This is all his fault!

Sheriff Chipley takes hold of Robin's shoulders.  

"You need to come with me, son," he mutters, his voice is deceptively calm, professional, and though I don't move my eyes from Robin's even for a moment, I can sense the sheriff's hostility.

Robin, the fool, resists. "She's lyin'! I never hurt her!"

He actually has the nerve to deny it! Fury rushes through my veins, compromising my air, and I breathe so hard my injuries smart with every rise and fall of my chest. Slowly and purposefully, I unzip Cam's hoodie, just enough to reveal my neck, never once taking my eyes off Robin's.

I watch as his expression morphs from anger at my accusation, to fear that he's actually going to be exposed for what he's done. Everyone will know what a monster he is, and I know I'm striking him where it will hurt him most - his reputation.

Dr. Foster is instantly at my side, examining my bruised neck, though I didn't even notice her move toward me. Her lovely features, so much like Cam's, are etched in grief and worry,

"Fuck, Rory," Chip breathes, his eyes wide.

I know they're all shocked. I know no one ever thought that hometown hero and all around golden boy, Robin Forbes, would hurt any girl, and certainly not me, whom he's claimed to love so fiercely. But the marks on my skin tell a different story, and though they've faded a bit since Friday, they still speak volumes. Especially the dark shape of Robin's huge open palm around my throat.

I don't reveal the rest of my injuries - not now, when Cam is fighting for his life. I just need Robin away from me or I wouldn't have caused this distraction at all.

"Robin," Sheriff Chipley says more sternly, "You need to come with me. Now."

Robin huffs indignantly, still glaring at me murderously, but puts his hands up, palms forward, and lets the sheriff lead him out of the room. His mother and sister, eyes wide with shock, follow him without so much as looking back.

"Rory," Chip starts, but I shake my head.

"Not now." My voice is barely a whisper, and my friend nods in understanding.

I stand there, in the back of the doctors' lounge, trying to force my breathing to slow back to normal, or as close to normal as it's been today, as Michelle, her doctor friend, and Chip stand there gaping at me, at a loss for what to do right now.

And then the door opens again, and my heart races in fear that Robin has returned.

But it's not Robin. It's a surgeon, still in his sullied medical scrubs. And as Michelle grips my hand tightly, I immediately wish that it was just Robin returning. Because I know, before the surgeon even shakes his head, that Cam didn't make it.

I can feel it. Deep in my soul, I can feel that he's gone. That my anchor to this world has vanished. And I'm already utterly lost when the surgeon I already hate with every fiber of my being makes that small gesture with his head that confirms that I am truly, forever, alone.

I close my eyes, and, finally, the tears I've been holding back flow out like white water. I cling to Michelle, sobbing desperately, and my legs give out as we both slide to the floor, still holding on to each other for dear life.

But there is no dear life. Not anymore. I wail uncontrollably, but there's no stopping it - no relief.

With no Cam, I am completely untethered from a world that I, quite honestly, want nothing to do with. My shoulders heave and I hold Cam's mom even tighter, only vaguely aware that her grip on me is just as strong. I don't know what else is happening, what anyone else is doing, because my eyes remain clenched shut. I don't want to see a world that doesn't have Cam in it. I don't want to exist in that world.