Because favours are priced...
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"You have an insatiable desire for trouble Camille Sanders. You'll never just be satisfied. You're like me, too wild for the world."
I laugh at the outrageousness. "You're dramatic I'll give you that Michae...
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Warning: Multiple triggers
I don't bother with dinner when I get back, shaken and wary of everything. Martha tells me Belinda had come back a few minutes after I had left and had dinner soon after too. I thank her and head to bed.
Sleep however eludes me completely.
I watch a few episodes of Gossip Girl and wonder if I should make a show about my own life. By the time I'm on the episode of the plane crash in the last season, it's already one o'clock.
Jesus, would he really kill his own son? Can you rig a plan to crash?
I wince remembering my instructions to rig that damn boat to stall. So I hit pause, and slide out of bed. I slip into my slides and go down for water, hoping the walk will tire me. Walking back up the staircase, I finally let out a yawn.
As I shut the door and sit on my bed, my phone rings from the bedside table.
It was Isaac. I curse myself for not calling him back and pick up the phone. "Hey, why the odd hour?"
"You're awake." He sounded surprised.
"Yeah, I couldn't sleep. I'm sorry I couldn't answer earlier. There was a lot going on...I wish I could tell you, but I don't want to put you in trouble."
"Ah. Well I'm actually glad you didn't pick up then."
"Why?" I ask suspicious.
"Because I'd rather no one see me right now. Funny because, here I am ringing you up for attention."
"What do you mean?" Instantly my mind flashes with Oliver's face. "Did something happen with-"
"No." Despite his seemingly honest answer, relief doesn't come. "He didn't do anything out of the blue. His usual accusations, his usual need to control. But that was yesterday."
Frowning, I ask, "What happened yes-"
"The usual Camille. You don't need to know any more than you already do." I flinch at his harsh tone. "Sorry...you just know too much. I'm sorry you do. No one supposed to know." He voice was low, drifting off.
Worry replaces suspicion and a panic builds in my chest. "I'm not sorry I know. If I don't who else does?" I respond with a loud shaky voice.
"I don't want them to know. But they are going to soon enough. You don't have to bear this burden anymore. I'll tell them myself." He pauses, "Sort of. I won't be able to tell them face to face. I'll be-"
No.
The sinking feeling enters my stomach and I feel like I'm falling. I get off the bed and head to my closet. "Where are you?" I ask while pulling on pants.
"Not at home. Don't bother the people I had to call my parents. They would barely notice if my corpse started stinking up the house." He laughs but it's hollow.
