𝐍𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘, 𝐍𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄 - kiara carrera²

𝒙𝒙. 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚

"MORE DRUGS - HOW FUN."

Sarcasm oozed off Tatum's tongue as she spoke up to the nurse stationed at her bedside. A day later, and she had come to terms with her new home. Nobody had told her where exactly she was, but apparently it didn't matter, considering she'd never leave. However, a luxury mansion with fluffers and pillows for everything was much better than her short-lived stay at the OBX mental institution. Here, she had medication down her throat five times a day, making her feel like an obese bear with the extreme exhaustion they gave her, and was asleep by seven. She was still furious with the woman keeping her locked up in her magnificent tower, but had no energy to scream in her face - again, thanks to the drugs knocking off her whole constantly ecstatic personality.

The rules here were the same as the rules at the ward, though: no visitors until 72 hours after an attempt or an attack, no phones or electricity, no stepping into society and absolutely no murdering people. Which gave Tatum 24 more hours until she was allowed to see her baby brother again. Carla assured the girl earlier this morning that she had emailed Heyward, explaining that Tatum was staying over at her house and he was welcome to visit her anytime after today. Tatum was excited to see TJ again; with all the free time she'd had, she and one of her many maids had begun knitting him some mittens for the winter.

Since she was a little girl, Tatum had imagined herself as rich. Everytime she broke into a home, everytime she robbed from a kook, she planned out a whole life in her head, where she was the child living in their fancy, rich building, that she was the one with loving, hard-working parents.

Now, she had it - cooks, maids, clean bed sheets. But she also had restraints that made her feel invalidated, medicine that made her feel crazy, a mother who left her as a child, leaving her to a childhood full of assault and abuse. Every single time Tatum looked into the eyes of Carla Limbrey, she felt it all happening again. Her father's body pressed up on hers at ten years old, knives carving her skin as she did anything for the thrill after the pain, cleaning up Joe's remains after he was murdered for his sexuality, Thomas dying right before her eyes. Every single time Tatum looked into the eyes of Carla Limbrey, she was reminded that a lifetime of trauma could've been avoided if her mother had only loved her a little bit more.

During her stay at the Limbrey mansion, she thought she'd meet more of her false family. More people for her to be mad at. However, so far the only person other than her mother had been her uncle Renfield - one of the most arrogant people Tatum had ever met. While she would be tied down her her bed by ropes to keep her from lashing out, while needles were poked through her neck to force her into a deep slumber, he would stand over and taunt her, only stressing out her manic side more. He was the dumb twin, just like she was. The one who was only useful for their strength, their carelessness. The one who was unstable in every way possible. Carla, however, was the strategy and brains, like Thomas had once been. However, while he used his smartness to do the good things he had done, she used hers for bad. Tatum wasn't sure what just yet, but she knew there was a reason her mother had suddenly appeared back into her life, and it wasn't a good one.

The bitter taste of valproate slid over her tongue once again, the small meeting sending the young girl into tight cringes, until it slowly glided its way down her throat. She wasn't sure how long her neck could handle all of these unchewed chemicals - it was sure to shut down one day. Could she somehow overdose on these things? Maybe, if Nurse Susan slept long enough, she could -

The door opened, snapping Tatum out of the thoughts that would send her down a long, spiraling, dark road. She expected it to be another nurse, another guard, another therapist. Instead, it was a boy. A teenage boy Tatum didn't recognise in the slightest.

"Who the hell are you?" she spat rudely, feeling her headache drift away as the medication sunk its way into her insides.

"Mom told me to come up and meet you," the boy answered casually, wrapping his tailored blazer over his body, like the room was cold. "I've only just gotten home from Greece - my school sent me there for an art course."

Tatum wasn't sure how anyone cold shiver in this home. She wasn't sure how anyone could feel discomforted here. Every single thing that lay in this building was over a thousand dollars. Every single thing that lay in this building was up to Kardashian standards. She simply had not seen anything like it. To think that she once thought that the Camerons were as rich as you could get...she couldn't believe that by blood, she was related to this kind of money.

However, to someone like this boy, who had clearly grown up bathing in these riches, expectations must by high, and it must be easy to feel uncomfortable when things are different. Oh, how Tatum would love to introduce him to the shithole that was the Quinn home she grew up him. He'd probably have heart failure if he stepped into the room that four teenagers once shared. Now it was only Leroy. Or maybe they lived with the Camerons now, considering their strange friendship was moving swiftly.

"I'm Cameron," the boy introduced, holding out his hand politely. Tatum looked it up and down, her eyes blank, bags and bruises covering her unglamorous face. Without the amazing power of concealer, the girl quite literally seemed like a zombie with all the scars that marked her fragile skin. "I'm technically your twin. Well, triplet, but I heard about Tyler's death. Guess it's just us now, huh?" He chuckled, as if there was a joke mixed up in his words.

Tatum's eyes snapped up, fury dancing behind her crystal orbs. "His name was Thomas," she corrected with a hard glare, unable to move, unable to raise her voice. Was it not illegal to take this many drugs? She honestly felt pretty dead. Every few hours she had to keep checking the bandage on her neck to make sure she wasn't. "And our triplet? She was a girl, called Tilly. You're not a girl or called Tilly."

Cameron shook his head with a shrug, sitting down at the foot of the kind-sized, luxurious, soft bed, his hands neatly tucked onto his lap. "Tilly was you're sister, yes, and she was a girl," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully, melting the girl beside him with confusion. "But I'm Cameron, and I'm a boy. I used to be Tilly."

"Like, split personality disorder?" asked Tatum cluelessly. "I have this friend who's obsessed with people who had that. Most of them were serial killers - he loved serial killers. He was my friend, at least. He fucked my girlfriend when I was 'dead', and now I dream of stabbing him in the neck."

Cameron shook his head again. His mom had told him the girl was a little dipsy, but he wasn't sure how she didn't understand his previous statement. He assumed it was because of her terrible upbringing, but he didn't care much - he was okay with sharing his story now. "Well, I'm not a serial killer."

"Oh." She dropped her head sheepishly. "I am."

"So I've heard." Once again, the posh boy shook his head. "I'm transgender," he explained in a kind tone, because, judging by the look on her face, she didn't know what that mean, either. "I was born a girl - Tilly - but she never really felt like a girl, you know? Ever. She always thought she was just a tom-boy growing up, wearing trousers and smashing mirrors and cutting her hair off, she thought that maybe she was gay. But then, when she hit puberty, everything about it made her feel sick. She hurt herself, hurt others. She went to therapy for a few years, and she was eventually able to transition into me, Cameron, a boy."

Tatum furrowed her brows, listening to every word he said and carefully taking it in. She felt bad for him, of course, nobody should have to feel so bad that they hurt themselves. But he had the life she was supposed to have. The life she and Thomas could've had. He didn't look back to find them, and unlike them, he actually remembered his missing siblings. He spoke Thomas' name, said it wrongly, like it was nothing. Joked about it, disrespected it. Nobody disrespected Thomas Quinn - not when his sister was around to head.

"I bet you're glad you got away, then," she said after a few moments of battling a million and one emotions. "Dad would've had some good fucking fun with you on his hands."

When Cameron smiled at her, she scowled, her whole body going sour. Memories that not even the highest dose of medication could take away flashed through her mind. She pushed him off the bed with the little strength she had left, though, even at her weakest, it was easy to throw away a rich, privileged kid. "But I don't know you. You're not my brother, not really. Like Carla isn't my mom. You don't know my story, and clearly I don't know yours. But if you speak a word about my brother, my Thomas, again, I'll show you what a serial killer really is."

a/n: finally meet cameron limbrey!

how do you feel about this character so far?? you think he's going to be good or bad??