“My problem?”
“Yeah,” I inched farther into the room, crossing my arms around my torso.
“You seriously askin’ me that?”
I stayed silent as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, finding him seated on the bed with his elbows braced on his knees.
“What’s goin’ on with you, Bea?”
“Nothing,” I replied automatically, the word coming out tonelessly. My limbs felt like dead weight as I tried to keep my body upright.
“Bullshit,” he hissed, raising his head to look at me. “You’re not sleepin,’ you’re not eatin,’ you’re barely fuckin’ talkin.’ What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I’m not doing this with you when you’re drunk,” I snapped back, slowly turning toward the door.
“We’re doin’ this now,” Cam argued, surging off the bed so quickly I took a stutter step away from him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“What’s wrong?” his voice grew louder.
“Nothing.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he screamed, leaning forward a little at the waist.
“Fuck you!” I screamed back, my face heating.
“Oh, fuck me? Fuck me?”
“Get the fuck away from me!”
“I’m not anywhere goddamn near you! You don’t let me near you!” He threw his hands up in frustration.
“That’s because I don’t want you near me,” I hissed back, my hands shaking. “I don’t even want to look at you!”
Cam stumbled back a step, his face creased in confusion. I took the opportunity to dart toward the door and I’d barely gotten it open before Cam’s large hand was over my shoulder and slamming it shut again.
“You’re not fuckin’ leavin’!” he shouted.
That was the catalyst. Four small words that sucked me back in time to a place I never wanted to visit again.
Memory after memory filled my head until I was stumbling away from the door, pressing my hands against my ears trying to make the voice stop.
“You’re not going to leave me.”
“You’re not leaving.”
“You won’t go anywhere.”
“You’ve got nowhere to go.”
“What, did you think you would run from me?”
“Cam? Everything okay, bud?” Casper’s voice called, then the door behind me swung open and the overhead light was flipped on.
I didn’t turn toward the door. Instead, I pressed my hands harder against my ears as the memories continued to flood in, even as light filled the room and illuminated the bed I’d been sleeping in for weeks.
“Stupid bitch.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“Come to Daddy, Trix.”
“Don’t,” Cam’s voice slurred as he moved toward me. “Get out.”
“You’re drunk, son. Come on, come back to the party.”
“No. We’re talkin’.”
“Doesn’t look like Trix feels like talkin’.” Casper’s voice was calm, even as Cam seemed to grow more agitated.
I stared at the dark green wool blanket covering Cam’s bed.
“Prospect called me—what’s goin’ on?” my pop’s voice rumbled through the room.
“Get out!” Cam yelled.
I jolted as Cam reached behind him, wrapping his arm around my waist and pressing me into his back.
But still, I was frozen. Stuck between the past and the present.
“Why the fuck are there toys all over the living room, Brenna?”
“You stay home all fucking day, you couldn’t clean the fuck up?”
“Where’s Trix? Trix, Daddy’s home!”
“I’ll see my kid when I want to, bitch. Trix, come on down, sweetheart!”
“You okay, Little Warrior?” my pop called, making Cam’s arm tighten around my waist.
“We’re talkin.’ Get out,” Cam slurred again, his fingers rubbing gently on my belly.
“Trix? Answer me,” my pop ordered.
“Come on, Cameron,” Casper said gently. “Just makin’ sure everything’s okay, boy.”
“Everythin’ was fine till you came busting into my room,” Cam snapped.
“Bellatrix Colleen?” Pop called.
There was movement at the door, and then Casper cursed. “Get the fuck outta here, Ladybug.”
“What’s going on?” Farrah asked accusingly. “Cam?”
“Just tryin’ to talk to Trix,” Cam said softly to his mom. “Just need to talk some shit out.”
“Why’s she standin’ behind you, baby?” Farrah questioned, her voice coming closer.
“Just holdin’ her, Ma,” Cam sighed.
“You okay, Trix?” Farrah called.
I couldn’t answer her. My entire body had begun to shake, and within seconds, my teeth were chattering. I felt like my chest was caving in as I began to tilt to the side.
“Trix?” Cam’s voice was alarmed as he spun toward me. He lifted me up as I raised my hands to my throat.
I was suffocating. I couldn’t breathe.
“Cody, get me a paper bag,” Farrah snapped, striding toward us.
Cam sat on the edge of the bed, settling me in his lap as his hands ran all over me.
“Are you hurt?” he asked frantically, testing my arms and legs and belly. “Where are you hurt?”
“Cameron, stop it.” Farrah’s voice made Cam freeze. “Trix, honey, I think you’re having a panic attack.”
I wheezed and scratched at my throat.
“It’s okay, I promise. Deep breaths, come on. Take a deep breath for me.”
My eyes searched the room frantically until they landed on my pop. Almost instantly, I pulled a huge gulp of air into my lungs.
“That’s it,” Farrah said soothingly. “Now, let it out slowly.”
I kept my eyes on my pop, who was less than four feet away, and took another deep breath. Then I met his eyes, my heart in a thousand pieces.