Misplaced Trust

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I see a lot of myself in today. The rain splatters like paint on the window, spots of raindrops racing each other to the finish line, which one will fall first. The sky is crying and screaming thunders, trying to rip off the Band-Aid that is called pain. My heart feels similar with the miserable sky. It feels like crying and screaming, rain flowing out of my eyes and I feel like I'm sinking.

After my talk with Ava, I gathered enough courage to walk up to Cameron's front door. And here I am, outside his house. My fist ready to bang on the door, ready to explain, ready to confess, ready to take a trip down memory lane. But I hesitate. Here I am, one knock away from being happy again. But I can't. My fist stays raised, touching the wood but not quite making noise.

I can do this. I have to do this, for Lucy. She wouldn't have wanted me to waste my life moping around. She wouldn't have wanted me to lose the love of my life, the very same person that kissed away the wounds she left behind when she decided to leave. The very same person that dried my tears, tucked my numb body in bed and forced me to eat, even if it was just the tiniest bite.

I finally man up, although I am most certainly far from masculine. I knock my cold knuckles on the door and a few seconds later I make out the sound of footsteps pattering down the tiled floor. The door swings open; his eyes are big, puffy and red. I can tell he hasn't got much sleep. His hair says otherwise, dirty blond and messy; curls of blond hair dangling in front of his tired eyes.

"What do you want?" He jumps straight to the question; his eyes emotionless and cut to the chase.

"I wanted to apologise. I'll meet your friends." I utter the quietest whisper known to man; it is a miracle he replies.

"Sure, whatever." He replies nonchalantly.

"Cameron, I said I'm sorry. What's up?" I find my self-raising my shoulders only dropping them seconds after the awkward silence we share. Dropping my shoulders turns out to be more laborious than I imagined, it feels as if I am trying to lift the kind of weights body builders lift. And it feels exhausting considering my miniscule build.

"I know what happened to you Mia. I was just waiting to see if you'd ever fessed up. And I guess we aren't on the same page, you know? We've been together for as long as I can remember, and the one thing that is actually important, you don't tell me?" I can hear the disappointment in his voice, pure disappointment fused with an essence of anger. But the disappointment overpowers the whole situation. I can feel his sadness, his misery. But at the same time, I can feel his relief, relief that he can finally fess up to a secret he has locked inside of him for a long time. My knock on his door, my refusal to get to know his friends acts as a key incentive for him to unlock the secret buried inside of him.

"I can explain-,"

"Mia, I'm sorry about what happened. But don't you remember? The night we officially met? I saw what happened." And my heart drops, he's known first hand. Seen it first hand, yet has never had the decency to fess up?

"So you knew. You saw and you just sat and watched the movie? Oh did you enjoy the movie? Was your popcorn salted enough for you?" I spit, one word bombarding after another, a bitter collision waiting to crash and burn.

The feeling of guilt floats away and I feel like I am breathing again, the water up my mouth that has been drowning me evaporates into thin air. But at the same time, a different type of sadness begins to overflow, the feeling of drowning resurfacing once again. As the feeling of guilt fades, the feeling of betrayal kicks in. How could he just watch me? How could he watch someone take advantage of me and not act?

"Ava already beat me to it." He replies after we share another moment of awkward silence. But this time, his reply sounds guilt, as if he is at court, trying to reassure the judge that he is not guilty by using lie after lie to justify himself.

"She's a girl. I believe in equality and all, that a girl can be as strong as a man. But she's a girl Cameron. How could you just watch her protect me from a guy like that? If he wanted, he could destroy both of us." I blurt without thinking, but in the moment, I don't care what I say. He's the guilty one. Not me.

"You know what Mia. Go home. It's late. Perhaps you could go and have a drink or two, you know, drink your bitterness and guilt away, the way you did after Lucy died?" He barks maliciously and gently pushes me backwards, trying to enforce upon me the hint that he wants me far away, effective immediate.

"I will."

And as I walk away, I can hear his voice echo behind me. "And I know you still feel guilty about what happened to Lucy. After all, it was your fault." And with that, I look ahead, away from him and blink back the tears.

It was NOT my fault.

It was NOT my fault.

It was NOT my fault.

Or perhaps,

It WAS my fault.

My fault, I am the only one to blame.