15. Fifteen Cam
Fifteen: Cam
I pulled Lakey onto my lap, her small frame fitting perfectly against my chest. The worn leather of the chair creaked as I shifted. Nuzzling into her hair, I breathed deeply. Sure, she smelled like the death that permeated the air, but she also had her usual musk. It soothed me. Always had.
"Well, sweetheart, think about it like a party favor," I drawled, eyeing the envelope clutched in her hands.
Lakey's light blue eyes met mine, a hint of mischief dancing behind the fear. "This one’s addressed to me. Oh, still my beating heart, I simply cannot wait to open it. Maybe it’ll come with a deed to this here beautiful property. Wouldn’t that be grand, my darl?" She’d forced her voice to sound like a southern belle, squirming in my lap as she bowed to the otherwise empty room.
I chuckled darkly, tightening my arms around her. Fuck, I loved this woman - scars, psychopathy, and all. My little golden retriever. Their vicious black cat. She never failed to display the strength behind her trauma, even if that strength sometimes came at the cost of someone else’s life.
"Open it," I murmured, biting her neck hard, trying to keep her in that same, strong frame of mind. "Let's see what skeletons are rattling around in there." She always calmed in my arms, and hopefully, it proved to be the same in a few minutes.
Lakey's nimble fingers carefully tore open the envelope. I felt her breath hitch as she pulled out the first photograph. My body went rigid, something dark bubbling up inside me as I took in the image.
There was my girl, sprawled out on a cold metal gurney. Vulnerable. Exposed. Used.
"Well, that's certainly not my best angle," Lakey quipped, but I heard the tremor in her voice. “God, it looks like I have 4 chins. Why wouldn’t they pose me better? You think they actually wanked to this? Gross.”
My mind raced, cataloging every detail of the sickening photo. The clinical setting. The needles. The vacant look in Lakey's usually vibrant eyes. They had an IV running into her arm and electrodes attached to her skull and chest, but for some reason, they hadn’t shut her eyes. Had she been semi conscious for this? Had she felt it?
I wanted to rip open a skull. To plunge my fingers into the soft of their eyeballs before ripping them from their eye sockets. To hunt down every motherfucker who'd laid a hand on her and make them suffer. Struggling to take a deep breath, I closed my eyes for a moment. First, I had to go through the motions. Get Lakes through this. Then murder.
"Hey," I said softly, turning her face towards mine. "We're gonna split ‘em open like stuck pigs. Every last one of them. I’m thinking a very Carrie-adjacent scene. We can pour their blood all over us and bathe in it. Isn’t that a thing? Bathing in the blood of your enemies?"
A slow, wicked smile spread across Lakey's face. "Promise?"
I grinned back, all teeth and menace. "Oh baby, you know I always keep my promises."
As Lakey continued sifting through the contents, my mind spiraled into a twisted kaleidoscope of fury and darkness. It reminded me why I was the way I was. The cold detachment that settled over me as I eyed the photos was the only thing that held me together enough to sit still and not light this room on fire.
"Jesus Christ," I muttered, eyeing a particularly gruesome photo. "Looks like they were trying to recreate 'Saw' in there. Maybe we should send them a cease and desist for copyright infringement."
Lakey snorted, her fingers tracing over a nasty scar on her arm. "I think I prefer Jigsaw's methods, honestly. At least he had some flair. My favorite was the angel one. Ooooh, now there’s an idea."
I barked out a laugh, but it felt hollow. My girl, my vicious little nightmare, reduced to a lab rat. My muscles were so tense, they could snap at the lightest touch.
"Hey, Lakes," I said, forcing lightness into my tone. "Remember when our biggest problem was figuring out how to dispose of our foster dad's body? Good times, huh?"
She elbowed me playfully, opening her mouth as if to say something, but then I felt her stiffen as she pulled out a new sheet of paper. Her face went pale, blue eyes widening as she scanned the clinical text.
"Cam," she whispered, voice uncharacteristically small. "They... they chemically castrated me."
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. My arms tightened around her instinctively, possessively. Holy fuck. Everything clicked into place. We hadn’t used birth control for years… and…
"Those fucking bastards," I growled, jaw clenched so tight it ached. "Holy fuck."
Lakey turned to me, a storm cloud in her eyes despite the tears threatening to spill over. "I wanted to be a fucking mother, Cam. I wanted to have a baby. You and me. They fucking took that from me.” She screamed, anguish echoing in the small room.
Suddenly, her face contorted. She stumbled off my lap, nearly tripping over her own feet as she lurched towards the recycling bin in the corner. I watched, my heart twisting, as she retched violently into it.
"Shit, Lakes," I muttered, pushing myself up from the worn chair. My anger morphed into concern as I crossed the room in two long strides. I placed my hand on her back, feeling the tremors wracking her small frame as she continued to heave.
"It's okay, baby," I murmured, rubbing gentle circles between her shoulder blades. "Let it out. I've got you."
It was fucked up, really. Here I was, a diagnosed narcissistic sociopath, feeling my chest constrict at the sight of her pain. Theoretically, I shouldn’t feel much of anything. Though, I’m not as ‘clinically deranged’ as Lakey. Their words, not mine. But she had always been my exception, the one person who could make me feel... well, anything. Love, if it could go by that name. Because really, what is love except for an innate burning to avenge those who hurt your person? Besides, the more we stepped into this type of darkness, the righter mine felt. Mine was nothing like this. Mine was almost protective in nature, tied to the one person who had never let me down. Hers was nothing like this either. It sat in my chest, feeling all kinds of fucked. I actively recoiled against the sensation, trying to soothe the utter repulsion I felt at what they did to her.
The world didn’t understand us, but it never mattered. We were psycho squared, stronger together than we ever were apart. We didn’t need anyone to ‘get us’, and now that much had become clear. They’d taken something, something precious from my girl. All the late-night talks where she’d joke about how she was unstable, but she’d give anything to be a mom. She’d always turned everything into a comedy skit, but I knew the need for her was real.
I couldn’t name a single woman that could have been a better mother. Who do you know that would slice the dick and balls off someone for being a sick fuck? No one. And that’s the point. Everyone cowers in their homes, waiting for someone else to do what needs to be done.
But not my Lakes.
She would have made a phenomenal mother and now… well…
They just sealed themselves in a very special hell. One where heaven becomes a distorted version of choosing whether they lose their left hand or their right first before losing them both.
When the heaving finally subsided, Lakey straightened up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She turned to face me, and the sight of tears brimming in those light blue eyes hit me like a sucker punch to the gut.
Our gazes locked, and in that moment, a thousand unspoken words passed between us. My jaw clenched, a fresh wave of fury washing over me as I saw the raw vulnerability in her expression. It was a side of Lakey that only I ever got to see - the scared little girl I protected ages ago.
"I'll kill them all," I promised, my voice low and deadly. "Every last fucker who touched you. They'll wish they'd never been born by the time I'm done with them."
A ghost of a smile flickered across Lakey's face. "My salvation," she whispered, but her voice was shaky.
I pulled her into my arms, one hand cupping the back of her head as she buried her face in my chest. She tilted her face upward, kissing me softly while I wiped the wetness off her cheeks.
As I held her, I felt a familiar dark thrill coursing through my veins. These fucks thought they could break us, control us. But they had no idea what they'd unleashed. With Lakey by my side, there was no limit to the carnage we could wreak.
And I was going to enjoy every bloody second of it.
She let me go, going to stand at the desk again. I watched as her trembling fingers reached for the next sheet of paper. Her face, usually a mask of sweet mischief, was now pale and drawn. As she unfolded it, my stomach twisted. How the fuck could shit get even worse?
"Fuck me sideways," I muttered, eyeing the clinical list of drug names and dosages. Next to it was a photo that made me pause — Lakey, strapped to a chair, eyes vacant and unseeing. She was covered in welts, but her hands were cut open. Almost as if she had been pounding against a wall or something. I felt as if I’d seen this before, a weird sensation of déjà vu passing over me.
"What the fuck is this?" Her fingers traced the lines of drug names.
My mind raced, piecing together the horrific puzzle. "Scopolamine, ketamine, fuck... even good ol' sodium thiopental. Jesus Christ, they threw the whole pharmacopeia at you, didn't they?"
"Cam," Lakey's voice cracked. "I remember... things. Terrible things I did. Things I’d never, ever fucking do to an innocent human being. I feel like I’m watching myself, my hands… moving, cutting. But it wasn't me, it was—"
"It wasn't you," I cut her off, gripping her hips tightly. "It was whatever they pumped you with."
I could feel the rage being replaced by a chilling numbness, a familiar darkness clawing its way up from the depths of my soul. The things they'd done to her, the way they'd violated her mind and body... it was making me irrational. Grabbing the pictures from her, I flipped to the last one. She was standing over a crumpled body, unrecognizable. This wasn’t my girl. This was something out of a nightmare. Her hair was dark, stained with blood as she stared with unseeing eyes at the corpse below her. In her hand, a small karambit.
As much as I loved her murderous tendencies, I loved them when SHE was in control. Not when someone else was pulling the punches. This just felt perverted.
What the fuck were they testing this shit for? Who wants to control a bunch of girls in a nunnery?
I cradled Lakey against me, savoring the silence that fell between us. Her warmth seeped into my skin, a stark contrast to the ice in my veins. My fingers traced lazy circles on her arm, possessive yet gentle.
"You know," I mused, breaking the quiet, "those bastards thought they were so clever. Unlocking your potential for violence." I chuckled darkly. "As if you needed any help with that, sweetheart."
Lakey tilted her head up, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Are you saying I was already perfect, Cam?"
"Perfect? Maybe," I smirked. "But a goddamn work of art? Fucking rights."
She giggled, that tinkling sound that never failed to send a thrill down my spine. "Flatterer."
As I held her, my gaze swept the room, taking in the chaos. Papers strewn everywhere; furniture overturned. It looked like a tornado had hit - fitting, considering the storm raging inside us both.
That's when I saw it.
Amidst the debris, a glint of metal caught my eye. I narrowed my focus, zeroing in on a pile of shredded paper. There, half-buried under the carnage, was a rolodex box.
"Well, well," I murmured, a predatory grin spreading across my face. "What do we have here?"
Lakey followed my gaze, her body tensing with anticipation. "Is that..."
"Oh yeah, baby," I breathed, already imagining the possibilities. "Looks like we just hit the lotto."
I lunged forward, snatching the rolodex from the debris with a triumphant laugh. The sound echoed off the walls, wild and unhinged. "Fucking jackpot, indeed!"
Lakey's eyes widened, a flicker of hope igniting in those icy blue depths. It was a rare sight, that spark of life in her usually dead-eyed stare. God, I loved it.
"Let me see," she demanded, reaching for the box.
I held it just out of her grasp, teasing. "Ah, ah, ah, patience, darling. You know good things come to those who wait."
She pouted, but I saw the corner of her mouth twitch. "Since when have we ever been good, Cam?"
"Fair point," I conceded, flipping open the rolodex. Names, identifying numbers, a weird, color-coded dot at the top of each card – an encrypted gold mine of information on the sick fucks who'd tortured us. My mind raced, already plotting our next move.
"You know what this means, don't you?" I asked.
Lakey's answering smile was razor-sharp. "Playtime?"
I nodded, a dark thrill coursing through me. "Oh yeah, baby. It's time to go hunting."
As I thumbed through the pages, visions of vengeance danced in my head. We'd make them pay, every last one of them. Slowly, painfully, creatively. The thought alone was intoxicating.
"You're thinking violent thoughts again," Lakey observed, her tone almost dreamy. "I can tell by that look in your eyes."
I grinned, pulling her close. "You know me so well, sweetheart. Wanna hear what I've got planned for these bastards?"
She nodded eagerly, and as I began to outline our revenge, I felt that familiar warmth in my chest. This is the love we know. The one we thrive in.
I locked eyes with hers, her light blue gaze shimmering with a mix of anticipation and that ever-present hint of madness. God, as she bounced around on her toes – all barely contained chaos and sweet, vicious loyalty, I relished in this change from her earlier despair. It was brutal witnessing my strong angel reduced to a puddle of vomit and tears.
Lakey's fingers danced over the cards, her touch almost reverent. "So many names," she mused. "So many people who thought they could break us."
A shiver ran through her, and I knew it wasn't from fear. This was excitement, pure and primal.
“Good thing we didn’t kill Skeeter. We’re gonna need him to track these names.”
I chuckled, “Yeah, don’t forget we got the Almines’ to deal with too.” She was bouncing on her toes as I spoke, “Though, maybe we should do them last. Kind of like a dessert?”
“Oh, I love that idea.” Her gaze suddenly looked far-away. “Skeets said they have a foster child… if I can’t have my own…”
"If you wanna bring her into our family, we will make that happen. I promise, Lakey," I vowed, sealing it with a kiss that sucked the oxygen from my lungs. "Together, we'll bring them all to their knees to kneel before my Queen."