Page 104 of Fractured Souls
I need to get out.
The flashes come like they always do. Each crash above this building is like a camera flash showing me a brief image before it fades away.
Boom.
My mother on the floor.
Boom.
Me walking in from school sopping wet.
Boom.
Her lifeless eyes staring up at me.
Boom.
I ran. I ran so fucking fast, right to Bo’s house. I remember crashing into their front door.
Boom.
Mrs. Zhao shouting something, at first I thought at me, but then I realized she was yelling to Bo’s dad. I was covered in puke and didn’t even realize I’d done it while running from our apartment.
Boom.
Police sirens and paramedics.
Boom.
The stretcher that carried her body out. A large crack split through the sky. I flinched, falling to the floor, huddling in onmyself. Squeezing my arms around my body. There’s is too much noise, too many hands touching me.
Then there was one.
My eyes blinked open, and Bo was holding my shaking body on his kitchen floor. His arms held me steady. I’m shocked to this day that I didn’t squeeze him to death. I held him so tight until the thunder stopped and people stopped asking me questions. I didn’t go home that night. My father showed up hours later to take me home, but Mrs. Zhao somehow talked him into letting me stay. I think she saved my life that night, because as violent as he’d been before, it was nothing compared to what followed.
That night he might have killed me.
I went home three days later to get ready for her funeral that weekend, and the house was trashed. To this day I don’t understand it. He treated her like shit, beat on her if I wasn’t there to take it for her, and yet he acted like his world was ending.
It’s the same with me, though, and it’s sick how trapped I feel. He hurts me—verbally, physically. He hurts my body and my brain. Yet he acts as if I’m his greatest gift on earth. It eats away at me. It’s why I don’t let go, and it’s why I put up with it when I know I shouldn’t. When I start to pull away I feel bad because yeah, he hurts me, but he loves me just as much. He’s my dad, how can I just walk away? It’s sick, but I can’t stop. I let the guilt grip me.
Darkness slices into the shop. “Shit. The power. Good thing the tattoo’s done.” Everything stops with a hum. Then silence. Cold, dead silence.
Fuck. I can’t . . . I can’t do this.BANG. I flinch, and hands grip me. I open my eyes, expecting Bo like every other single time I’ve been locked inside my trauma, but instead I see Jamie. Hishands are larger, rougher than Bo’s, his grip a lot less loving, but just as steady. “Look at me, Camden!” he snaps.
My chest rises and falls rapidly. “Where—where—where—” I can’t stop hiccuping. My breaths come in sharp painful bursts.
“Look at me. You’re going to pass out. You’re having a panic attack.”
“I need—Bo. I need—”
“No you don’t.” He grips me harder. “Just look at me.” Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I can’t. The tightness in my chest grows. I try, though. I try and I don’t stop watching his eyes. They’re so dark they’re nearly black. A lot harsher than the warm brown of Bo’s. “That’s it. That’s it. Just breathe. Try to focus on me, okay?”
I swallow, looking around. Ian and Julian both wear concerned looks as they watch me. Jamie grabs my jaw, holding my gaze to his.
“Don’t look at them. Just me.” My eyes flick up to the window. The light isn’t anything substantial, but I can make out Jamie’s face—his hard-set eyes, the brow that’s pierced. He has an unfinished tattoo on the side of his neck. “My best friend.”
“What?”
