Roommates with the Party Boy

Chapter 16

Chapter sixteen

"Buckle up, honey, we need to get some dinner home for your mother."

There was a crash as my mother threw a lamp out the window.

"Please, Camilla," he begs as he looks at me in the rear view mirror. He had sweat gathering on his forehead and his lip was cut and bleeding, but he still gave me a ghost of a smile.

"Is mama upset?"

"Just a little upset, but it's okay."

I hadn't noticed the suitcases he put in the trunk. He starts the car and hastily backs out of the driveway as my disheveled mother storms out of the house and begins cursing at my father.

He was stealing me away.

We only got a few blocks away before my mothers car came into view behind us. It sped up and bumped the back of my dad's car. It didn't take long to lose her before there was a flash and she somehow caught up and pulled out in front of us. My father jerked his car to the side and my head slammed into the roof of the car. I hadn't buckled myself up as he had asked.

The next thing I feel is my mother dragging me through the fiery window.

Her fingernails dug into my arms like razor blades as I fought to press myself into the side of the car, screaming for my father. Through the tinted window I could barely make him out. He wasn't moving.

"Camilla!"

My mother shook me, but I fought back to stay by the car. Another man, a civilian, pulls me away entirely as the car goes up in flames, but not before it licks across my leg.

"Camilla, fucking wake up!"

My eyes snap open and I can only see Gianni's outline with the occasional flash of lightning, thunder following moments later.

I cover my mouth to muffle the ugly cries that choke me.

"Hey, breathe," he coos, his hand brushing through the tangled hair on the side of my head. I shudder and feel myself sit down on the ground. He kneels in front of me, one hand holding my cheek and the other still petting my hair.

"You were dreaming. It was just a dream."

"It wasn't just a dream," I whisper, voice hoarse from screaming. "It really happened."

His lamp lays on the floor. I must have bumped it as I flew out of the bed.

"Are you okay?" he asks after allowing me to find my breath again.

Tiredly, I lean my head back against the wall. "Depends on what your definition of okay is.... I will be okay."

He nods and extends his arm to the dresser next to me, grabbing a box of tissues. I try to reach for one, but my shaky hands only make it so far before he swats them away. He plucks a tissue out of the box and I stare him down as he gently dabs off my cheek. But there weren't just tears he would have to contend with. Tears, boogers, and sweat caked my skin.

"Easy, I got you," he says, wiping away what he could.

I would need to splash some water on my face.

I got you.

My chin wobbles against my will and I lean my cheek into the palm of his hand.

"You're so sweaty. Why don't you take this off?" he says about my sweatpants and shirt, to which I scowl and he sighs. "Or, at least change. Get more comfortable."