𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨; 𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘦𝘳

curses and graveyards

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

For all of her posturing, Camden still just feels like a child. Small. Unsure. Pushed around.

She had watched as Regulus pulled out a handful of gold coins from the depths of his impossibly deep pockets, watched as he pointed the tip of his wand against them and watched as they transformed into paper bills right before her eyes. A whole fucking stack of them. She tried not to seem impressed.

Regulus held the money out towards Camden, but once she made a move to grab it from him, he yanked his hand back. "Wait," he had said, Camden fixed a glare on him. There shouldn't have been anything to wait for, she was promised payment for the inn. All those nights they had to stay looking for him added up, and Camden was struggling to start off with. But Regulus held up a finger at her like he was dealing with a small, impatient child. "If you want the money, you have to bring me to Lachlan's grave."

He said this as if his words were just words, and not barred teeth that gnawed on her throat, choking her. Camden took a step back from Regulus.

Evan, who, up until this point, had been busying himself with his shoelaces, looked up with a sharp look to his eyes. "Regulus," he said, warning clear in his tone.

He ignored his friend and waved the bills in front of her face. It was the same way Lachlan used to dangle scraps of meat before Bear. There are some people who learn too late not to taunt hungry dogs. "I'll pay for another night at an inn if we need to stop again because of it. But you're not getting anything if we don't go."

Camden locked her jaw and stared up at Regulus. Taller than her, richer than her, better than her. Everything about him reeked of artificial superiority. He was holding a pile of cash above her head and making her dance to earn it.

He could've just asked. Camden would've said no, but it's not like someone like Regulus would have had the decency to even think of asking in the first place. People like him demand. They demand and they expect.

And people like Camden comply, because they have to.

Her tongue was dry and head aching from the sobbing the night before, and Camden wasn't in the mood to argue. She knew that there wasn't really an option either way, and figured it would be better to save her energy for the drive. "Fine," she spit out, hatred and anger overflowing from her tongue and hanging off her chin like drool.

When she grabbed the money from him, it felt hot in her hand, like it was scorching her skin.

Now that burn lingers on her palms as she grips onto the steering wheel, driving with an unbroken focus and rage still brewing like a storm. She hasn't said anything since then. There isn't anything for her to say. Camden just drives and silently rages and thinks of her brother as a stranger.

It's only a four-hour drive back home, to where her family's bones rest. And it's the last place she wants to be, but she presses down a little harder on the gas pedal, eager to get there if only to end this drive.

The roads are empty, the skies dark and heavy. She finds herself continually looking at the clock, keeping careful track of the time. It's slow, passing like cold molasses. Five minutes in, ten minutes in, twenty minutes in and Camden feels as if she has been driving for endless hours, stuck in a loop. If not for Bear next to her, the silence might make Camden snap. It's heavier, uncomfortable, now that Regulus is here. His presence makes her tense. And it almost has her longing for when it was just her and Evan, when her inferiority wasn't shoved down her own throat.

Camden can't tell if she wants to speak with Evan or not. Part of her wants to get him alone and explain away her vulnerabilities and reshape whatever image he now has of her in his head. But the other half is convinced she could only make it worse and would be grateful if she never had to look Evan in the eye again.