The Silly Girl (A 1D FanFic) [COMPLETED]

Chapter 17

PUBLISHED 4/9/15

Cameron's POV

"You heard all of that?" asks Clyde.

"Why are you even involved with this guy in the first place?" I ask. "Isn't it clear that he's dangerous? When police-"

"They're called Bobbies in London," corrects Clyde.

"When the 'Bobbies' catch him," I say, using the correction, annoyed. "He's going to turn in each of his little cronies, too. You know how much jail time you'll get?"

"At least twenty years?" he says, jokingly.

"It's not a joke, Clyde!" I yell. "This is some serious shit!"

"Why can't you just stay out of it?" he yells, more than asks.

"Because," I say. "It's involving me, too, now."

"No it's not," he says. "Mike is all talk."

"Obviously not enough talk," I say, trying to calm down. "If he's a murderer, rapist, and drug dealer."

"Cameron," says Clyde. "Just go far away from here, and never come back. It's safer."

"For who?" I yell at him. "It's definitely not safer for me. He fucking knows where I live. And he's always following you."

"So what if he's always following me?" Clyde asks. "I'd rather your safety."

"I'm not safe!" I basically scream. "Are you not listening? Neither of us are safe from this guy! No matter what you do, you're not safe. No matter what I do I'm not safe!"

I start to sob. "Are we still talking about Mike?" asks Clyde. "Because I'm not completely sure we are."

"Either am I," I say, doubtfully, choking back sobs.

"Then..." Clyde trails off. "What are you talking about?"

 "Don't you see, Clyde?" I nearly yell. "All of our lives! I've always been hurt! Mentally and physically. You're hurting yourself, too! You put yourself in this position, and you're hurting yourself."

"How am I hurting myself?" he asks. 

"How clueless are you?" I ask, chuckling sarcastically at this whole mess.

"I don't know," he says losing his patients. "Just go back home, before you dig yourself into a deeper hole."

"You're right," I say sarcastically. "I better get myself out of this 'hole'." I turn around, away from Clyde. I turn back towards him. "Just come back with me tonight. James is there, and the boys are really nice. Please?"

"Fine." He sighs in defeat. "Only because it's late."

I start walking towards the house, and see all the lights are off. I'm assuming all the boys were asleep.

I climbed up my ladder, and Clyde followed. "Stay here," I order.

I creep into the kitchen, and see Liam sitting there, watching TV. "Hey, Liam?" I ask.

"Hmm?" he muses.

"Do you have clothes for Clyde to borrow?" I ask. "He's spending the night."

He gets up, and starts walking towards his room. But before I could go follow him, the TV catches my eye.

"Surveillance cameras caught Mike Sampson, wanted criminal, talking to a younger boy earlier this morning. The cameras noticed a hooded figure arguing with a teenager. The hooded figures hood fell off, but he immediately put it back on. There was no audio, so we're not sure what they were arguing about. The boy had his back to the cameras, so authorities can't identify him. They were able to track down Sampson, and he is now in police custody. More to come on this story."

I literally jump for joy. Everything is going to be alright. Clyde isn't going to get twenty years, I don't have to constantly watch my back, and everything is starting to fall into place.

I run upstairs, as fast as I can. I hear Clyde and Liam talking in the guest room. I knock once, to let them know I'm coming in, I open the door, and walk in. They stop talking, and they both look at me. I jump onto Clyde, and whisper to him. 

"He was arrested," I whisper, happiness lacing my voice. 

He pulls back from me, and his smile grows wide. "Really?" he beams. "When? Why? How?"

"There was a video of you two arguing, and they were able to track him down."

"They had me on tape?" he asks, frowning. "Fuck."

"It's not a big deal," I say, still smiling. "They couldn't identify you."

He takes a few deep breathes, and he doesn't seem as tense. He's in Liam's clothes, and I never noticed how toned he was. 

"How many pounds can you bench press?" I ask, chuckling.

"About... 300," he says.

"How much do you weigh?" I ask, looking at him like he's crazy.

"About... 135," he says.

"You can bench double the amount you weigh?" I ask. "You must be solid."

"I am," he says. He thinks for a minute. "Are you tired?" 

"Not at all," I answer honestly.

"Wanna go somewhere?" he asks.

"Now?" I ask. He nods, and I shrug. "Why not?"

I go off to my room, and notice it's nearly 3:00 in the morning. I go over to my closet, and pt on a crop top, and jumper, instead of my baggy shirt. I put on black Converse. I leave my black yoga pants on, and open my door. 

Clyde walks in. He climbs out my window, and I follow. "Where are we going, anyway?" I ask.

"A fight club," he says, smirking, and continuing to climb down. 

We get onto the ground, and he starts walking. In a few minutes, we show up infront of a warehouse. He opens the door, and I go in. There's a few sweaty guys, and the rest of them are just watching the other guys go at it in the rink.

The ages vary, but it's all guys. I have a lot of anger I need to get out, so I have a funny feeling I'm going to like this place.

I squeeze into the front, and watch the current fight. Clyde's right behind me. It's basically all kinds of fighting, rolled into one.

The fight in front of me finishes up, as the weaker looking guy jumps out of the rink, definitely looking defeated. "Anyone else?" asks the thirty-something year-old, with lots of tattoos. 

(Picture him as Adam Levine.)

I raised my hand, wanting to punch something. He looked at me, a smirk growing on his face. "You?" he asks me. "A girl?" he teases.

"A girl?" I mimic, pulling myself in. "What?" I taunt back. "Do you guys have a policy against girls, so when you're beat, it won't hurt your precious little egos?"

"Cameron," warns Clyde. "Get down here now."

I ignore Clyde's pleads, slip off my shoes and beanie, and turn to look at the guy. He smirks at me, and nods his head. 

"Fine," says the man. "But don't expect me to go easy on you."

"That's funny," I say. "I was going to say the same thing to you," I grunt, throwing my bare fist at his face.

He doesn't see it coming, and once my fist comes in contact with his face, his head flies back. I kick my leg behind the back of his knees, and he falls, flat on his back. I straddle him, and get in a few more punches, just as police sirens wail outside, and I notice the alarmed looks on everyone face.

Oh, shit. This is one of those illegal fight clubs you see in movies, isn't it?