11:11 | Cameron Boyce Story

Eleven

A/N incase you missed the author's note in the last update, this chapter will contain strong depictions of self-harm! just warning you in advance!

Bonnie

I drive as fast as I can, without crashing, to Cameron's house. I'm actually surprised I haven't had a heart attack yet; what with the shock from finding out about Isabella, and the fact I'm driving far too much over the speed limit.
When I reach Cameron's house, I park my car absolutely awfully next to his and run to the door, hammering my fists against the wood.
"Bonnie? Are you okay?" His mum asks me, taking me inside.
I've never met Cameron's sister before, but she walks out when I come inside, "Bella?" She questions, and I shake my head. No clue what she means.
"Mrs Boyce, I need to speak to Cameron. It's urgent." My tone really worries her but she nods.
"Alright, hon," she points to the stairs, "He's in his room. Make sure he's okay, he's been a little under the weather lately."
Jumping every other step, I leap up the stairs and down the hallway to Cameron's room, bracing myself to ask him about his girlfriend without upsetting him.
Gingerly, I knock on his door.
"Come in!" He says shakily, but he's giggling like a five year old.
I open the door and reveal the most horrific sight I've witnessed in my life.
Cameron is sitting on the edge of his bed, surrounded by empty bottles of alcohol, sliding a razor blade along his wrists and arms.
I run over to him and snatch the blade out of his hand, "Stop! Don't do this!"
Stupidly I put my hands over his many, many cuts which leaves me with blood dripping all over me. At this point, I don't give a shit.
"It needs to be done, Thompson! It's what they want!" He tells me. His speech is so slurred and it's even worse that he's crying.
Pressure, Bonnie. Put pressure on the wounds.
I rip my flannel shirt off of my waist and tie it tightly around his arm, "What do you mean 'it's what they want?"
After rummaging around in his medical cupboard I find some bandages and I wrap up his arm. It looks much better, the bleeding calms down a lot.
"The voices." He sobs.
I start crying just at the sight of him like this, "Cameron, you're drunk as fuck. There are no voices."
He grabs a new bottle of vodka, "You don't understand," he drinks it before I can take it off him, "They've been there since she stopped loving me."
I can't help myself, now that I know what happened to him. I dive towards him and pull him into a hug. It takes him a while to hug back, but soon he puts his arms around my waist and sobs into my neck.
"I'm sorry." I say, pulling away.
He frowns, "Why?"
I take out my phone and dial 911.
"No, Bonnie. Don't do it." He glares.
I press the call button.
"Don't. Please. They'll just lock me up again." He sounds so vulnerable. His voice shakes with every word.
Tears roll one after the other down my cheeks, "I'm so sorry, Cameron. I have to do it."
My phone rings, "Hello? 911, what's your emergency?" The woman asks.
Cameron falls to the floor in heap and screams and cries for Isabella.
"I need an ambulance. Fast. My friend just attempted suicide."