Lupine Dreams Pt. 11 Ch. 35-36

Author's note: Thank you for reading (: Remember, there's still one more installment to go after this.

~~~

Chapter 35

[vibe track: ghouls tha new team remix - we are scientists]

The classroom looked pretty much like any other Cameron might've been in -- or not been in -- when she was in high school. Encouraging posters about writing, about books. Little inside jokes written on the corner of the whiteboard -- a cartoon crocodile standing on two legs with a monocle and boxing gloves stood out from the rest.

Must be that one kid.

Henry had gone off to unlock something or other with a smart-looking brunette teacher who'd eyed Cameron like she was a bug floating in her $50 water bottle. That made Cameron smirk a little at least.

She was kind of excited to see this other side of Henry, to meet some of the people he worked with and watch him interact at the staff social. He was quiet with her, but from the little she'd seen of him in front of the buses, he really came alive here. She wanted to wonder to herself which one was the real him...

... but I can't very well do that, can I? He'd gimme that little smile and throw my own words back at me: "They're all the real me."

She smirked at that, too.

A colorful "What We're Reading" display caught her eye against the far wall. Students' names were listed next to, presumably, whatever book they were in the process of reading. Henry's was, too -- "Mr. M." Of Mice and Men.

That rang a vague bell with Cameron. She probably was supposed to have read it for her own English class at some point, but she was certain she hadn't. Really, it was more the poster itself she was fascinated with.

Did he make this himself? Cut out the letters in different colored paper and glue them on there?

She tried to imagine him doing that, hunched over his coffee table or something with some Elmer's glue and construction paper. She supposed she could, although she kind of wanted to see it anyway. Her smirk shifted into a warmer, faint smile.

Every corner of the room was bursting with that kind of personality -- cluttered, but... passionate.

Is this what it's like to be inside his head? Cluttered and passionate?

That sounded about right to her.

Cameron drifted to Henry's desk, which was similarly cluttered. She'd never sat behind a teacher's desk before, so she dropped into the creaky wooden rolling chair with a mischievous grin.

"Today class, please pull out your Chromebooks and go to Pornhub." Boom. See Henry? Not so hard.

She snorted to herself as she looked over the rest of the desk -- her gaze settling on the Oh Yes Wyoming! mug. Now she smiled wider, picking it up and inspecting the faded coffee stain ringing the inside.

He took it to school. And he actually uses it. I wonder how long?

The grin lingered on her face as she replaced the mug next to the only photo on the desk. She recognized his sister, the lawyer. The rest must've been his family, too. The other two around his age most likely the remaining sisters, some kids that probably belonged to them. An older woman that must've been Henry's mom.

The eyes. They've all got those brown eyes.

Must've been a relatively recent photo, because there was no Mal.

Come on, don't start with that now.

But it was too late. Mal always had a way of intruding on these kinds of moments. Cameron eyed the one, long drawer that ran the width of the desk.

Is there a Mal photo hiding in there?

In her mind, there now definitely was. So she figured she might as well open it. She did it carefully, as if Mal herself might be stuffed in there, ready to jump out.

It was supplies, mostly. Post-It notes. Pens. Pencils. And... in the corner, the back of an overturned photo frame.

Cameron's heart sank. Slowly, she took it out and turned it over.

It wasn't Mal, though. It was Henry. Younger, probably around Cameron's age. He was holding one of those cheesy "First Day of School" frames around his head and was making a goofy face.

His first day of teaching maybe?

In the photo, he was standing on a neatly manicured front lawn. She couldn't tell much about the house behind him, but it was definitely not the one he lived in now.

Mal must've taken the photo. That's enough to make you want to turn it over? Mal even haunts the memories she's not fucking in.

Cameron knew the feeling well, although she couldn't understand why he kept them around. She put the photo back and shut the drawer with a little more force than was necessary.

Cut out and mixed in along the side of the desk, little notes -- some handwritten, some printed --attracted her attention next. They appeared to all be from former students.

Mr. M,

I just wanted to let you know that I started my first year teaching high school English in August. Every day, I think to myself, "What would Mr. M do?"... and then I do the opposite!

Lol, jk jk. Seriously, I'm sorry for everything I did as a student. I totally get it now!

More seriously, thank you for always setting an example I try to live up to every day. You're the reason I'm a teacher. So... if I suck at it, I'm forwarding the complaints to you.

Mr. M,

You probably don't remember me. I was in your lit class as a sophomore. So like 2015. I don't know if I said a word all year. I didn't really like your class honestly. But I still re-read some of your comments on my essays on rainy days. You were the first person who made me feel like I could write. And then, that I could write better. I don't really know if it's your thing, but I've enclosed a copy of my first book of poetry.

Thank you for believing in me.

Cameron ran her finger over the notes -- they were all like that. A dozen or so, maybe. Again, she had a hard time squaring in her head that this was the same guy who'd passed out on her mattress wrapped up in his own self-loathing, who'd wanted her to hold him just so he could remember who he really was.

It's not. This is "Mr. M."

She smiled. There was no difficulty in imagining the Henry who'd held her -- a stranger -- when she told him her mother had died. They were all in there -- all the Henrys. And she felt privileged to get to see all of them.

A pang of inadequacy reverberated through her, but she did her best to shake it off.

I just don't know why he'd want me to see them.

Footsteps in the hallway announced his return, and he popped into the dark classroom, grinning immediately when he saw Cameron in his chair.

"Checkin' out life in the big chair, huh. Give anybody detention?"

Cameron smirked at him and got up. She didn't really feel like she fit in here. She was even dressed differently with a T-shirt under her nicest tanktop to cover up most of the tattoo on her chest, and the nicest jeans she had -- all freshly washed. She'd left her hair down and her bracelets at the apartment, too.

All in all, she felt like she was...

... well, sorta like that dream where I'm in school naked.

He hadn't asked her to do any of that. But she wanted to try and fit in as much as she could, to find a place in this part of his life. And she wanted to make that as easy as possible.

As she kissed him softly, those kinds of anxieties didn't dissipate all the way -- but they were muted, at least. She searched his eyes -- bright, alight. That only confirmed to her that however uncomfortable she felt, this was worth it.

"Why'd you wanna become a teacher?" she asked as they separated.

Henry scrunched up his brow and pursed his lips, giving it some thought. "You know, I don't really remember anymore, honestly."

She scoffed. "Come on, you're not really that old -- Mr. M." She nudged him playfully and he snorted, then sighed, looking up at the ceiling for inspiration on how to answer.

"I guess I haven't stopped being a teacher because... I guess I feel like if I were something else -- like an accountant or something -- would I be a better accountant than the next guy?" He looked back to her now, more confident that he'd found what he wanted to say. "Would whoever I'm, like, accounting for or whatever, would they be like, 'damn, Jenkins, we sure are lucky Henry's our accountant!'"

That got a laugh from Cameron.

He shrugged. "I don't think they would. But... I definitely know there are kids -- well, they're not really kids anymore -- but they're different today, hopefully better today, because they were in my class and not somebody else's. So... how could I possibly go do anything else?"

Henry's little half-smile tugged at his lips, and Cameron felt herself grin broadly back at her boyfriend. There was so much to admire in his smile -- in everything about him.

What the fuck could he possibly admire in me?

Cameron kissed him again, shoving the unwelcome thoughts from her mind, and held his hand as they made their way to the cafeteria.

***

Teachers and their spouses were milling around in the cafeteria -- and Cameron was swaying from foot to foot next to Henry, nervously shooting him glances while a few people took turns coming up to talk with him. Almost all of them were, naturally, female teachers without wedding rings.

Do they exclusively hire single women to fucking teach at this school, Jesus Christ.

However Cameron had wanted this evening to go... it had not gone that way. Dinner had been... awkward.

Cameron had done her best. She really had. But it'd started out on the wrong foot when the superintendent greeting everyone at the door consulted whatever cheat sheet he was using and called her "Mallory."

That kind of set the tone, and things only got worse from there. Everybody in the room seemed to know all this shit she had no idea about. They were all natives to this world, and fluent in its own goddamn language. If she heard one more fucking CBEDS, IEP, or GATE, she was G-FLI -- gonna fucking lose it.

They'd sat with Henry's friends -- Heather, Paul, and his wife, LeAnn. Cameron got the impression Heather liked her about as much as every other thirsty bitch in this goddamn place. They all seemed to be staring daggers at her constantly.

As if I need to guess the reason. There's like four dudes who teach at this school apparently, and all the rest are married. Well, Henry is too, but....

It hadn't helped that she'd had to be careful not to call him "Henry." Again, not because he'd asked her to, but just because she wanted to avoid the awkwardness. That would've invited focus on the two of them even more, would've made everyone look at her under an even more powerful microscope -- searching for some explanation about why he was with... her.

She sighed and floated a little closer to Henry while he talked to yet another in the endless procession of smart, effervescent women who shared his interests, values, and profession.

For what felt like the thousandth time tonight, Cameron tried not to look down at what she was wearing.

Everyone had started out by trying to include her in the conversation. But she hadn't had much to say. She couldn't even pretend to focus on her food.

She'd grabbed a plain roll and some kind of weird chicken from the buffet that she didn't finish. And even then, she'd only picked up that much because she didn't want the attention that came with "oH Is tHaT aLL yOu'RE hAvINg??" or more well-meaning fussing over her -- like some kid who was a picky eater. Which... well, she pretty much was. That only made it worse.

They'd tried to sound interested in her... career at the call center, and then tried to sound even more interested when Henry mentioned she was a nightclub DJ. But eventually they gave up and moved on. Frankly, Cameron was relieved they had. She just wanted to disappear around these people.

She'd been happy to do this -- eager, even. She'd volunteered to come because she wanted to be more a part of Henry's life, but--

Someone put a hand on her shoulder, and she did her best to be polite as she reflexively jerked it away.

All these fucking teachers just love to fucking touch. To try and make a connection or whatever. Probably all think I just need to find a good book that "speaks to me" or discover my latent love for algebra or some shit.

This time the offender was Heather, who motioned to step away from Henry with her. That was about the last thing Cameron wanted to do, but she forced her feet to move and for her face to avoid a deeper scowl -- which took all her concentration to do at the same time.

Heather pointed surreptitiously at some of the women who seemed to alternate between not noticing Cameron existed and being resentful that she actually did.

"Don't worry," Heather said. "It's not you. They all just thought they'd be first in line." She winked and nudged Cameron lightly.

"Huh?"

Heather was patient. "All the teachers who've been looking at you like you told them Chris Hemsworth wouldn't give a shit how their day was? They thought, you know, they'd be first in line when Andrew was single again...."

Cameron stared at her, confused, but not by what she was saying. Although Cameron wasn't totally certain she could've picked Chris Hemsworth out of a lineup.

Why the fuck is she saying this to me? Even if it wasn't fucking obvious that's what was going on, why would she tell me?

"Oh," was all Cameron could manage out loud. Mostly because there was also that other thing: when he was single again.

Fucking Mal.

How many times tonight had someone stopped themselves before referencing his wife? Cameron wasn't actually sure. Maybe it was just once. Maybe it was 20 times. She didn't know enough about their shared history to really know. She didn't know enough about anything here.

Unconsciously, Cameron crossed her arms and shrank a little bit, hunching into herself.

"Hey, Cameron," Heather said with a smile like the elementary teacher she was, "I know this was kinda intimidating, really. You kinda just got thrown in the deep end here. But seriously, who gives a shit what they think, right?"

Heather was giving her what was evidently intended to be a bolstering smile, but Cameron wasn't quite sure how to take that. Honestly, she didn't really give a fuck what Heather thought, either. But she forced herself to nod as if she'd taken the advice to heart.

"Well, it was great to meet you, I'm sure we'll see each other again real soon!" Heather obviously looked like she wanted to give Cameron some kind of friendly hug -- she was definitely that type -- but she didn't, thank God. She didn't seem to know what else to do, though, so she settled for an awkward little wave.

Cameron returned it and exhaled. At least that was over.

But she needed to get the fuck out of here.

What the fuck is taking him so long, Jesus.

She tried to look casual, strolling back over to him, and lightly tapped his shoulder. He turned to her, looking apologetic.

"Hey, I'm gonna wait for you outside," she said.

Henry smiled and nodded. His eyes made it clear he knew how she'd been feeling all night. That only made her feel worse, really, which she tried to keep from her expression. She didn't want him to feel guilty just because she was... who she was.

He'd won some teacher award tonight. They clearly all liked him and admired him here, just like his students. He should've been feeling good about that and about himself. Instead, he was probably feeling sorry he'd brought her.

Sorry that I nosed my way into an invite he wasn't gonna give otherwise. Thanks, Brooke.

She carried on her concerted effort to keep her face as free of what she was really feeling as she could before she stalked out of the cafeteria.

Outside, the cool air felt freeing, and she breathed it in deeply.

But you know what I really fucking need? A goddamn cigarette.

People were filing into their cars and out of the parking lot, so Cameron thought like a high schooler and ducked into the shadows, behind a line of bushes tucked away against the brick-and-stone stairway that led up to the entrance.

She slid her back down the brick, crunching the pebbles underfoot, and sighed as she fished a flattened cigarette out of her pocket. That was okay. She hadn't even brought her lighter -- it was just the ritual she missed at times like this.

Going through the motions, she stuck the unlit cigarette in her mouth, watching her breath turn to smoke in front of her in the cold night air. She wasn't wearing a jacket, but she didn't care. It'd been stifling inside. The crisp air felt good.

Her eyes lingered on the nearly full moon above her, poking out from behind a cloud enough to illuminate the parking lot, but leave Cameron untouched. She leaned her head back against the rough brick.

You know who I wish I could talk to about this? Fucking Kendra.

Cameron had been avoiding Kendra since she'd walked out of their apartment. She'd picked up some clothes when she knew Kendra would be at work, had loaded up the duffel bag again with the shit she'd need -- but otherwise hadn't been back. She wasn't sure if she was gonna go back. That just... wasn't a decision she was ready to make quite yet.

Well hey, take your time with it, babygirl. Maybe she can die while you're trying to make up your mind. Then you can be sure you've learned exactly zero lessons.

Above her, the door opened again, and a few people stomped down the steps, chatting idly. Cameron scrunched into an even smaller ball even though she knew they wouldn't see her.

The trio fanned out as they got to the bottom and Cameron recognized them as Henry's friends, the ones they'd sat with at dinner. She strained her ears and could hear them pretty well as they killed time, waiting for Henry, apparently.

"What'd he have to go do?" That was Paul. Cameron thought Paul was okay. He hadn't really stared at her as if she were some... some fucking Torcon with a funnel on my head or something.

"He's still fighting off his admirers," Heather responded with a little laugh. Cameron got the feeling that if you wanted to know where Henry was when he was at work, you should ask Heather. That only made Cameron crave a real cigarette more. "Nah, I think he had to take a group photo or something."

"Should we wait for him?" Paul asked.

His wife chimed in. "Sure, it's a nice night, why not? You got a hot date?"

Through the bushes, Cameron could see enough to tell Paul pulled his wife closer to him by the waist. "I'm on one right now," he said in his smoothest voice. Cameron stifled a snort and Heather gave him tiny applause.

"Did you see how Laura was looking at Cameron?" Heather said after a small pause. Paul seemed to nod, so Heather continued. "I thought she was gonna try to hit her over the head with that award she won."

Heather laughed and Paul gave a little snort.

"What award did she win by the way?" LeAnn asked, swaying in the cool air.

"Most creative use of posterboard," Heather responded. Paul laughed, but Cameron wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a joke or not. She couldn't tell what was worth an award to these people.

"I kinda wish she'd tried it, honestly," Paul said. "Pretty sure Cameron woulda won by KO in about three seconds."

Heather thought that was funny, too. "Yeah I wouldn't wanna fuck with her."

Well, that coulda been worse I guess.

But then Heather started speaking in a quieter tone after looking around a little. Nobody could see Cameron through the hedges, especially if she kept still. Their voices carried to her even at a lower volume.

"So, LeAnn... what did you think?" Heather asked.

Cameron could hear the shrug in LeAnn's voice. "I dunno, I didn't really talk to her that much." She paused. "Although... okay, I know Mal treated him like shit, and it's good he's finally done with her. Really, it is."

"... but?" Heather prompted.

"But..." LeAnn just trailed off and didn't finish. Cameron couldn't tell if she'd gestured or something instead, and didn't wanna risk leaning through the bush in front of her, especially now that they were talking shit about her.

She wasn't altogether surprised they weren't her biggest fans. Most people weren't. Especially once they met her. But Jesus, does Mal have to come up in every fucking conversation? Really?

"Yeah..." Heather said with a sigh. "I mean, hey, like I told him, you know -- if he's just getting out there and experiencing things, why not? She seems... err... fun." Her little laugh said she didn't think Cameron seemed fun at all.

Told him? She talked to him about me? She just fucking met me. I mean, except for the one morning. But that doesn't count.

Heather kept going. "But... he's... I don't know. I don't get what he's doing. Showing her off here like they're..."

Paul cut in when Heather was still searching for the right words. "Well, they're dating. Why wouldn't he? Not everybody keeps the people they're having sex with chained up in their sex dungeon."

Heather laughed. "Hey, I told you that in confidence!"

They all laughed now, but Cameron kind of wanted to hear how Heather had intended to finish that sentence.

Most of her, though, wished she wasn't hearing any of this at all. But she was trapped here now.

"Can we take a step back here, though?" Paul said. "Look, I don't know her, and yes, I agree with you, it's kind of a... kind of a weird fit. On a lot of levels. But he's going through something. It's not like they're married. She makes him happy. Can we just let the man find what he likes without judging him for it?"

That quieted the conversation for a little while, giving Cameron the unwelcome opportunity to marinate in her humiliation. She really didn't want to know any of this.

Unfortunately, they weren't done because Heather spoke up again.

"Look, I agree with you, I do. But... you know he's not like that. I mean, he brought her to this thing. This is such a nothing thing. You don't need a date to go to the staff social! And after only, like, two weeks of fucking? Come on. We know where this is going."

"Well, so what if she's not his type," LeAnn responded, sounding kinder now. "Maybe he's finding a new type."

"Oh, no, she's exactly his type," Heather retorted instantly. "You know she's making him go by Henry now?"

The humiliation bubbled into a boiling rage that Cameron felt herself harden to contain.

Fuck this bitch. Fuck all of them. They don't fucking know me. And they don't fucking know him! Aren't they supposed to be his fucking friends? FUCK! I don't wanna fucking be here to hear this. Goddammit. Fuck. FUCK.

She certainly couldn't come out now, though. There was plenty of room in her little nook, but she felt claustrophobic, and tried to keep her quickened breaths from making noise. Her brain raced through increasingly stupid ideas of how to cause a distraction so she could slip away.

"What?" LeAnn said, skeptical of Heather. "Everybody just called him Andrew all night. I'm pretty sure even Cameron did."

Paul jumped in, too. "She's not making him." That phrase cut deeper than Paul certainly meant it to. Cameron felt herself shiver -- and it had nothing to do with the cold. "He told me the other night, actually. He... I don't know, he doesn't really think of himself as 'Andrew' anymore. And we don't know that's connected to her."

Heather snorted. "Yeah. Right. Well, I'm just saying, somebody should block Mal's number from his phone if we get the chance."

What the fuck does that mean?

There was a pause as a group of other teachers stampeded down the steps above. She wasn't sure if she was hoping one of them was Henry or not. If it was, it might end up even more awkward if they decided to look for her together.

"You... think he'd go back to Mal?" LeAnn said, clearing up for Cameron what Heather had meant. She immediately wished there hadn't been any clarification. Her jaw clenched tighter, her shaking hand threatening to jettison the deflated cigarette.

Heather responded without hesitation. "Oh, in a heartbeat."

Paul sighed.

Does that mean even Paul fucking agrees?

"She has that kind of a hold on him?" LeAnn said, skeptical again.

"Well... Brooke did ask me a while ago to keep a real close eye on him," Paul admitted. "She didn't tell me outright, but... I don't know. I think maybe something happened between him and Mal recently. I didn't even wanna ask. He wants to put that shit behind him -- we should encourage it, not try to tally up his mistakes, you know?"

That left the group quiet for another stretch. Cameron was grateful. She didn't want to hear any more.

She felt besieged on all sides, caught between wanting to cry or scream -- or just laugh at the absurdity of her situation.

I fucking hate everything about this fucking night.

The constant fucking reminders that her boyfriend was still married to the love of his life, the way everyone looked at her, talked to her -- like she was some kid who was a bad influence on their golden boy or some shit. How completely out of place she felt in this world and with these fucking people. All of it.

And the only people she really wanted to talk about it with were Kendra, who she fucking treated like shit and walked out on, and Henry, who she couldn't talk to about this because... because what if he's like, "Oh, I didn't know all my friends fucking hate you, you know what, they bring up some good points. I better call Mal before they steal my phone and delete her number."

Cameron hung her head between her knees. Everything in their relationship was always rubber banding back and forth. But when it was just the two of them, when they were in his bed or even on her mattress at night... it always felt so simple. There wasn't any of this bullshit.

Now... she was drowning in the bullshit. Suffocating in it.

"Welp, I gotta go check on my secret sex dungeon," Heather announced, evidently tired of waiting. "Can't have another OSHA complaint on my record."

They exchanged their goodbyes, and Paul and his wife didn't wait around much longer, either.

Cameron didn't much want to look up, but the only thing worse than having to leave her safe little corner would be having to creep out of the hedges in front of Henry when he finally showed up. She already felt like the fucking weird kid with this crowd. She didn't need him to think she was... hiding in the fucking bushes from the adults.

It didn't take too much more time for Henry to finally come out. Cameron was leaning against his car when he did.

He smiled at her -- that remorseful little half-smile that was almost capable of keeping her afloat all on its own, even amid the rapids of Bullshit River. She was thankful for it... but it wasn't enough to make all of it go away. There were too many thoughts in her mind she wanted to avoid  -- and couldn't.

"Hey," he said, unlocking the doors.

"Hey," she said. And at their familiar greeting, she did feel herself soften a little bit.

They got in the car and she knew Henry could tell she was a few layers deep inside her own head -- or maybe up her own ass.

"I'm sorry," he said as they got going. "I know that was really not your thing. Really."

She looked over to him, and he took her hand as he drove. She scolded herself again for making literally everything about herself.

I went to this because I wanted to try and show him I wanna support him, learn more about him. Instead....

"Thank you for doing it though," he said, giving her a weak, sympathetic smile between glances at the road.

She squeezed his hand and tried to smile back. She wasn't sure if it showed.

"I'm glad you got to meet everybody at least," he said.

Cameron let a wry little crinkle start in the corner of her lips.

"Yeah," she said with a sigh -- the meaning clear only to her. "Me too."

~~~

Chapter 36

[vibe track: delicate weapon - grimes]

Cameron could feel Henry swelling inside her. She needed this. There were so few outlets left for her to make this shit go away.

Henry pounded into her from behind. He was doing his best. He'd been willing to go a little further last time. She'd needed that, too. He hadn't even seemed like he'd been bothered by it. Pulling her hair wasn't much, not for her, but it was something at least.

"Ahhhhh pull my hair Henry," she moaned out now, trying to see if he could pick up where they'd left off.

It always felt good having him inside her. What made it good, though, wasn't really about his dick. It felt good because it was him inside her.

But this... this wasn't really about feeling good. Just like it hadn't been the other night, either. That wasn't what she needed right now.

She needed all the shit to just recede to the edges for a while. Just for a half hour where she wouldn't have to think, wouldn't have to deal with those doubts and those guilts, and all those fucking thoughts pinging around her mind that just wouldn't shut the fuck up.

Henry did it, tugging her head up to look at the stucco ceiling over his bed. He wasn't very imaginative, but she'd take what she could get. She focused on the feeling, letting another moan escape her lips.

The music helped, pumping through them both with a deep bass beat that she hoped would seep into Henry.

It wasn't just the way every woman in that school had looked at him, or the way everyone there had looked at Cameron, either -- like she was some dumb, dangerous animal Henry had, for some reason, decided to try and rehabilitate. It was... fucking everything.

Henry plowed into her again from behind with a grunt.

How I chased off my only real friend.

Cameron tried to get into it, to will herself into feeling like his thrusting into her was doing something for her. But it was barely any distraction at all.

Mal's fucking legs in that skirt.

He gripped her tighter, forcing his cock deeper into her as he readjusted for leverage.

Mal in his fucking wallet. Mal in the fucking drawer at school. Mal in the fucking drawer in this bedroom.

"Harder, harder, Henry," she groaned out with each smack of his body into hers. She wasn't sure what else to say. If it were anyone but him, she knew what she would've barked out. But she didn't want to say something she couldn't take back. She just... she just needed this night -- maybe the past few days -- out of her fucking head. To get lost in something else. At least for a little bit.

Why does he even fucking keep all that Mal shit around.

He tried. He pinned her arm behind her again. It had worked once. It didn't do much for her this time. Mostly she'd been surprised the first time by how decisive he'd been. She wanted that again from him -- wanted him to take control and just make her stop fucking thinking for once, to let her react on instinct alone.

Maybe his friends were right. He's just keeping her on ice. You know, just in case....

Cameron groaned through gritted teeth, trying to fantasize about her mild-mannered boyfriend ramming her up against the wall, slamming her into it over and over and over. That's what she wanted. What she needed.

"Fuuuccckkkkk, take me, Henry, fuck me."

He tried tugging at her hair again, grabbing a handful and yanking. Maybe it was a little harder, maybe it wasn't.

"Spank me."

It slipped out before she'd decided to actually say it. She felt him stop, and she froze. She'd said it the other night, too, and she'd known then it was a mistake -- one he'd tactfully ignored at the time. She'd just... needed more.

She could hear his panting behind her and it made her realize she was trying to hold her own breath.

Is it really too much to want to just escape from all the bullshit my way?

"Just... try it," she said, trying to sound inviting, warm, as she turned to face him. He looked deeply conflicted, and she could feel him shrinking inside her. "It's okay, Henry, really. You're not gonna hurt me, okay?" She tried not to let go of the feeling inside herself she was trying to build on.

He swung back his arm and she returned to facing the wall, bracing. He connected... but... barely.

Cameron tried to keep from getting frustrated. She could feel the pile of bullshit feeding on itself, wearing her patience thin.

Mal could probably get him to whack her with a goddamn two-by-four. But he won't give me more than a fucking sting. What's that say, exactly?

"It's okay, really," she repeated instead. "Harder, Henry." He tried to keep himself erect inside her, rocking into her a couple of times before trying again.

And again, his palm connected with her ass. This time, at least, it felt like he'd actually put a little bit of force into it. But... not much.

Fuck. FUCK. Come on, please. Please Henry. Just this one time. Fuck.

But she felt him pull out of her, the moment over.

I shouldn't have brought this up. I just wanted to fucking forget about everything for like, a half-a-fucking-hour. That's all. And now... ARGHHH. I fucking made everything worse. GodDAMMIT.

The bed creaked as he swung off of it, and she slumped down, groaning in frustration -- more at herself or him, she wasn't sure what the pie chart looked like right now.

"No, I'm not doing this, Cameron," he snapped. He slipped his underwear back on. For some reason, that pissed Cameron off, too. Everything was pissing her off.

She groaned again, crawling off the bed and onto her feet. "What? It's just a spank, Jesus.... Why can't you just--"

"What? Go ahead," he spat, interrupting her. "Say it, Cam." He pulled on his pants. She was a little surprised at his tone. She'd never heard it before. But that was outweighed by how pissed she was that he was goading her.

Cameron wheeled on her boyfriend. "Careful what you fucking wish for Henry," she said sharply, everything she hadn't been able to release turning from a simmer to a dangerous boil. "You wanna know what I was gonna fucking say? Huh?"

"Yeah, go ahead!" His voice was raised now. She'd never, ever heard him raise his voice. Especially not to her. It infuriated her almost as much as it frightened her. "Call me whatever the fuck you wanna call me because I won't fucking hit you to help you forget you're ducking your best FUCKING friend and feel like shit about it! Don't fucking take that shit out on me, Cameron!"

There was real fire blazing in his brown eyes as he took a step closer to her, daring her. Cameron felt the shock freeze her in place for just a half a second, unsure if tears or fury were going to resurface first.

She got her answer when she found herself striding, naked still, to the Mal drawer, yanking it open.

"I just wanted to get rid of the fucking bullshit -- just for a little fucking while!" She pulled out one of the photos tucked away in the drawer. It was the one she thought about the most -- the two of them in front of that fucking tree, with those fucking smiles, in that fucking flannel. "But the fucking bullshit is always fucking there, isn't it!

"WHY DO YOU EVEN STILL FUCKING HAVE ALL THIS SHIT, HUH?" she screamed at him, wielding the photo frame like the evidence it was. "EVERYWHERE I GO! THERE'S MORE FUCKING MAL!"

Henry's fiery brown eyes cooled into a hard shell, and she watched with desperation the conflicting thoughts flashing across his features.

Yeah. Well. I guess if I had any fucking doubts about why you're keeping all this shit... that kinda says it all, doesn't it.

"Put it down, Cameron," he finally said, steadily.

Her jaw dropped. That's what you fucking say?? THAT'S WHAT YOU FUCKING SAY?

"Oh, of couuurrrseee," she said, feeling the muscles in her neck bulging. "Can't fucking disturb the holy artifacts of the great fucking Queen Mallory!" Cameron was seething, the photo frame shaking in her unsteady grip. She wanted to throw it, to hurl it at the back of that fucking mirror on the wall and watch them both fucking shatter.

But... she... she didn't.

Cameron dropped it back into the pile in the drawer, letting the wood roll off her fingers, rattling in with the rest -- unharmed.

There was still a part of her, underneath the rage and the panic and the pain, that was trying to regain control before she did something irreversible.

Henry paused, taking a deep breath and looking from the drawer to Cameron and back again while she tugged on her pants.

"Cameron," he said, his voice breaking. "I-I'm sorry, come on--" Maybe there was a part of him trying to do the same thing.

"No, go ahead, Henry. Andrew. Melvin. Whoever the fuck you are today." Tears were streaming down her face now, she could feel them -- cool streaks on her burning hot cheeks. "Pull out the little photos in your wallet," she mimed with her hands as she went along, her voice cracking, "put 'em next to the ones in your little Mal drawer, maybe see what she's watched on your Netflix lately."

Whatever part of her was struggling to take the wheel, it was losing to the flood of fury, resentment, and that never-ending fucking contest with that goddamn cunt she could never escape, lurking in the dark corners of their relationship.

The contorted, strained expression on Henry's face reflected back at her everything she was feeling inside -- and she could tell by the fear and barely contained dread there what was coming next, even as a part of her screamed inside to stop it while she still could.

She pulled on her shirt, her shoes. Snatched her speakers and tossed them into her backpack and stuffed her phone into her pocket. Finally, she looked back up at him.

He was sitting on his side of the bed, next to the door, not even trying to wipe away any of the tears on his face. His bloodshot eyes were fixed on her. Frightened. Braced.

She could barely focus on him through her own tears. "I'm-I'm... I'm sorry, Henry," she said, exasperated and throwing up her hands. It wasn't conciliation. It was only the prelude to the anger desperate to get out of her. "Sorry I'm not fucking Mal."

Cameron stopped in front of him on her way out the door, twisting her uncooperative face into a vessel for the venom she felt about everything in this room -- and aimed it at the man who usually made her feel so calm.

"Because we both fucking know she wouldn't even have to fucking ask for you to fucking spank her, would she? Yes ma'am!" Her voice quaking, she gave a sarcastic, mocking salute. "Whatever Henry."

She sniffed back the sobs she wanted to dissolve into.

"Have fun fucking jerking off to Mal. I'll find a real man who isn't fucking afraid to fuck me."

Cameron heard the words echo inside herself, recoiling in horror.

Henry didn't flinch. Didn't react. He wasn't looking at her anymore.

She could feel herself shaking. She wanted to take it back, to take everything back....

But she couldn't. She was already fleeing the scene, her feet taking her anywhere but here.

Da Vinci perked up from the couch as she stalked past and watched her as she slammed the door shut.

The cold air hit her, along with the realization of what she'd just done -- what she'd just destroyed.

And how she'd done it.

Cameron was still shaking. Couldn't stop herself from shaking. From crying. She turned to the empty night, and found nothing there -- the moon obscured by clouds.

The tears poured out of her. Her legs wouldn't hold. Cameron slumped down into the grass outside Henry's house -- and howled. A broken sob. A punctured scream.

She wasn't sure it made any noise at all.

There was no one left to hear her.

And no one left to blame.