Over the Edge

Chapter 5

David awoke fully alert and grabbed the Glock he had stashed under the cushions when Cam turned her back. Silently, he raised off the couch and slipped down the hallway. It was 1am. The noise reached his ears once more. A slight flutter followed by a shuffling sound. A whimper than a cry for help. It was Camielle. 

David raced to the bedroom, swinging the door open. Except for Camielle's writhing body, the room was empty. Slivers off moonlight crept through the cracked open blinds. A stray strand lit up her sleeping face. She slept in a simple tank top and shorts. The pale pink covers had been kicked to the edge of the bed and twisted around. Her sleep seemed troubled, her beautiful face haunted by demons only she could see. Cam tossed and turned violently; the occasional terrified whimper escaped her soft lips and echoed in David's ears. Malone placed the Glock on a dresser close to the bed and grabbed at the covers.

As he pulled them over her troubled body, Camielle's eyes shot open. Blindly, her hands shot out into the air. One managed to catch David in the jaw. 

"Damn!" David grabbed her wrists. "Cam, quit! It's me!"

Cam stared at him and in the dim light, he could see the fear in her honey eyes.

"David..."

She sat up and pulled her wrists from his loosing grip, only to throw her toned arms around his neck. David sat down on the bed beside her. David brought the poor woman's quivering body closer. What could possibly scare her so bad that she'd have these nightmares? Then he remembered. Shane Davis... Camielle rested her face against his bare, warm and marble-smooth chest. The tears flowed out before she could stop them. David held and consoled her and when the tears stopped, he pulled away. 

"You okay?"

Cam shrugged and wiped her wet face. Then, she pushed down the covers and slid over. Understanding, Malone slid in, wrapping her in the warming comfort of his arms. Feeling her tremble, he mindlessly pulled the covers over them. Just like that, they slept.

++++++++++++

 The next morning, Camielle Erikson rolled over to find the bed empty and heard noise in the kitchen. Tip-toeing to investigate, Camielle found David making coffee. Cam absent-minded noted that David had remembered where everything was. Silently, she sunk into one of the oak wood chairs at the table and drew her legs to her chest. At that moment, a scene flashed into her head. A younger version of herself hid in the corner; her drunken father holding her mother by the hair... Beating her... She shook her head hard in order to banish the memory.

"Hey. Want me to make something to eat?" Perhaps by the look she gave him, David knew something was wrong.

"Hey... What is it?" Cam fought back the tears that welled in her eyes.

"Nothing," she whispered harshly, "It was fourteen years ago."

The timer on the coffee maker beeped. Behind her, there was a clinking of glass on porcelain as David filled the mugs. He sat down a mug of fresh, black coffee on the place mat then sat across from her.

"Tell me anyways."

"My mother... She was beaten by my father... Sometimes several times a day. Only when he was drunk; never sober. Which was almost all the time. He'd practically rip her apart, then come home the next day with roses, chocolate, and what-do-you-know, more booze." 

Cam slid her shaking hands around the cup for warmth, comfort. Finding none, she placed her hands palm down, fingers splayed out on the table. David watched, silent.

"He always made sure I was watching. Not in the sense that he'd call me saying: 'I'm beating your mother, get in here'. But he'd wait to throw the first punch until he knew I was there..."

David's hand snaked over the tabletop and caught hers in its grasp. For a moment,  Camielle stared at his hand covering hers. It was warm and gentle. She found herself wishing he'd hold her close and whisper in her ear that everything would be alright.

"I am so sorry Cam."

Slowly Camielle raised her chin off her bare knees and looked David straight in those blue eyes she secretly loved so much. 

"Don't you dare." she snatched her hand from under his and stood fiercely. "Don't give me that bullshit. I've heard that line my entire life... I really don't need it from you."

Camielle stormed away and David let her go. After a moment, he got up, took the still full mugs to the sink and dumped them. From the window, he noticed something... About a half block down, a dark green Toyota was parked facing the house. David squinted and leaned closer trying to get a better look.

"DAVID!!!" 

Cam's scream came from the back of the one story ranch house. Surprised, David turned quickly, hitting his head on the cabinet beside the sink. 

"Dammit!"

Ignoring the throbbing pain at his left temple, he rushed to the back hall. Cam was huddled on the floor outside the bedroom, head in hands and shaking. She looked up when he approached. 

"He... He was in the window. Just staring."

David stared at her for a bit, then glanced into the bedroom. The window was empty as far as he could tell. The shades half drawn and crooked, creating a diagonal line that cut through the bit sunshine. 

"There's no one there." Camielle said nothing.

"Look," David sighed, "I gotta go. I''ll come back and check on you after my shift."

Camielle scoffed, getting to her her feet. She walked to the doorway of the bedroom and turned, he hand unmoving on the door itself. 

"Don't bother."

The door slammed fiercely but still gently for the bottom caught on the off-white carpeting. David Malone sighed heavily and took his leave.