Chapter 8

                                    

                                          
PUBLISHED 3/15/15
                          
Cameron's POV
                          
I see the boys are gone. I walk downstairs. I see them all sitting on the couch, the place cleaned.
                          
"You guys ok?" I ask.
                          
They turn to look at me. They pull something out from their sides. Next thing I know, I'm covered in water, from the water guns.
                          
"Seriously?" I whine. "Now, I'm soaked."
                          
"You soaked us!" yells Louis. "And did a lot more."
                          
"It was hilarious," I say.
                          
"Maybe in your opinion," says Harry. "Anyway, was that you boyfriend?"
                          
"Boyfriend?" I ask. I burst out laughing. "You guys think- You guys think Troy is my- Oh my God! I can't handle it!"
                          
They all look at me like I grew three heads. "Then, what is he?" asks Niall.
                          
"He's my old friend," I say. "I knew him back in America."
                          
"Oh," says Liam. There's a knock on the door. "I'll get it." Liam runs off, leaving the five of us. "Cam, can you come here for a sec?"
                          
I walk towards to the door, to see Liam standing there... with a man...
                          
That son a bitch I called my father.
                          
He looks up at me, his eyes holding evil. "Cameron? Is that you?" he asks innocently.
                          
"How did you find me?" I ask.
                          
"The orphanage has records," he says. "I've missed you so much."
                          
"What about your little prison buddies?" I ask. "You don't miss them?"
                          
"Cameron, I have no clue to what you're talking about," he says.
                          
"Cameron?" asks Liam. "Do you know him?"
                          
"Sadly," I say. "I wish I didn't. Can you get this scum out of the house, and far, far, away from the property?"
                          
"Sir," says Liam, kindly. "You need to leave."
                          
"Why?" he asks. "I just wanted to see my daughter."
                          
"You can not call me that, anymore!" I yell. "You lost that privilege 8 years ago!"
                          
"Cameron, what's gotten into you?" asks my dad.
                          
"Not the bullet that shot when you pulled the trigger!" I yell. "You know, that went into Clyde's leg. Or in Mom's head."
                          
"Sir," says Liam. "If you don't leave, I'm going to have to call the police."
                          
"This isn't over, Cameron," he says, tauntingly. "And, if you continue to act like... this... you'll have the same faith as Clyde."
                          
"You sick, fucking bastard," I say, running towards him. I go to punch him, but he catches my hand, and twists my arm around, I'm surprised it didn't break.
                          
"Hey!" yells Liam. "Get your fucking hands off of her!" Liam kicks that dirtbag, and he releases his grip on me. "Get out," demands Liam.
                          
He smirks at me, then walks out. Liam locks the door behind him. He turns to face me.
                          
"I see you met the sick bastard I used to call my father?" I ask.
                          
"I-I-... You used to live with that?" he asks. I nod. "I think you should tell us your story."
                          
"Or, I could jump three stories," I say. "I mean, I honestly think it's better than telling mine." I see the boys standing in the doorway. "Were you eavesdropping?"
                          
"...Maybe?" says Niall, but it comes out more as a question.
                          
"So you heard and saw everything," I sum up.
                          
"Ya," says Louis.
                          
"What did you say about a bullet in someone's leg... and head?" asks Liam.
                          
"I don't know when that son of a bitch got out if jail, but it was too soon for all of his crimes," I say, sitting on the couch.
                          
"Let's start with little things," says Liam, sitting next to me. "Why were you put into an orphanage in the first place?"
                          
"If I tell you that, I tell you my whole life before," I say. "No thanks."
                          
"Please?" begs Liam. "Just tell us."
                          
"You guys won't understand," I mumble.
                          
"What was that?" asks Niall.
                          
"You guys won't understand," I say, louder.
                          
"Than, explain," says Louis. "Help us understand."
                          
"You can't understand it, unless you went through it," I say.
                          
"Maybe I can help with that," says Niall. "Let's go upstairs."
                          
I walk up to my room, and Niall follows. I sit on my bed. "What?" I ask. "You can't possibly help. There's only one person in the world who can help, but he's dead."
                          
"C'mon," begs Niall. "I went through some stuff, too."
                          
"Like what?" I ask.
                          
(A/NI know Niall didn't go through a lot of this stuff, but for the sake of the story, he did. Some's true, though.)
                          
"I've been abused," he says.
                          
"By who?" I press.
                          
"My Step-Dad," he says. "My parents got a divorce when I was 5, and my mom remarried. He was abusive. He always beat my mother, and back then, I really didn't understand it. I was 6. I though I deserved it, because he told me I did. Then, as I grew older, I started to understand, this dude is a psychopath.
                          
"So, I set up mini cameras around the house. I recorded for two weeks. It was so hard not to do anything before, but, I knew if I didn't have enough solid proof, I couldn't get this dirtbag arrested. So, I waited the two weeks, or, the hardest two weeks of my life. After I got all the info, I anonymously mailed it in, with our address.
                          
"The next day, the police came, and arrested him. I was 15 when that day came. Best day of my life. He got sentenced 7 years. 3 years for my mom, and 4 for me. I have no idea where he is, but I honestly don't care. I'm just happy that he got put away for what he did. The next year I went on the X-Factor, and it never happened."
                          
I see Niall crying. I give him a hug. He looks at me expectantly. "I'm guessing you want me to go, huh?" I ask.
                          
"Ya," he says.
                          
"Fine, just let me go grab us waters," I say. I walk out if my room. I start walking down, until I stop dead in my tracks.
                          
"Who?"
                          
"Cameron! I swear, she's such a pain in the ass," says Harry.
                          
That's when I had it. I walk downstairs.
                          
"You know what? You boys understand anything! You've never been through anything hard! You don't realize life isn't always tickles and butterflies! Try growing up in an orphanage, being adopted for the sixth time, and still not being wanted! I honestly didn't think I was that bad. So, this time, you boys can play with the tickles and butterflies and I'll start packing," I say.
                          
"You heard that? I didn't mean it," says Harry.
                          
"You say what you mean, and mean what you say. Fuck off, Styles. Can someone drive me to the orphanage. I'd rather be physically abused there than mentally and verbally abused here," I say. "Maybe the next person who adopts me will finally kill me. But life isn't that good, is it?"
                          
I storm upstairs, and lock my door. I get the stuff of my desk that I put their when I got here. I put it in the little bag. I get my drawing stuff, too. I still have my money on my pencil case.
                          
I put the bag over my shoulder. I slide my window open. I look down. I could jump two stories.
                          
I put one foot over. I slide the other over. I ease myself down, and grab on to the sill. I put my foot on the sill of the lower level window. I put my other one down. It's about a 6 foot jump. I jump down, and start walking down the road.
                          
I knew they didn't like me. No one does.