Chapter 18 You will not be afraid
You will not be afraid
The next day, I check out of the motel and send a group text to Lucas and Tyler .
Me: I’m on my way.
I try to psych myself up for what’s coming, the looming confrontation with Sean when I go to collect my things. I repeat under my breath,
“You are Camille Torres. You will not be afraid.” I might not be battling dragons or demons like my favourite fantasy book heroine, but damn if this doesn’t feel just as terrifying.
I pull up at Lucas’s house and hop out of my car, holding Gizmo. Lucas comes outside before I get the chance to knock.
“Hey, is this Gizmo?” He says as he walks up to me. “She’s cute.” He scratches her gently and she immediately starts purring, moving her head to be closer to him. I fight the same feeling when he’s around.
“She sure is. I’m gonna drop her inside before we go, if that’s okay?”
“Go ahead. I’ll give you a hand with your stuff?” He offers and starts opening my boot.
“That would be amazing, thanks.” I walk towards the house.
After I settle Gizmo inside, we all get in Lucas’s white Toyota Land-cruiser Ute and start driving to my old place.
My heart starts pounding faster the closer we get. Part of me wants to turn the car around.
I still remember the shouting, the slammed doors, the nights I locked myself in the bathroom just to breathe.
But I’m not alone this time. Lucas and Tyler are with me. And even though I’m terrified, I feel steadier with them here, like maybe he won’t be as dangerous with witnesses.
I’m not surprised, but I still feel disappointed when I see Sean’s car in the driveway. I was hoping he wouldn’t be home today and we could avoid any altercations.
Lucas comes around to my side of the car and helps me out, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. His touch is soft, steady. A small reminder that he’s got my back.
Before we make it to the front door, I turn to the guys.
“Please… don’t talk to him. There’s no point provoking him more than he already is. Just stand by me, make sure he doesn’t try to stop me from taking my stuff.”
They nod silently, serious.
I face the door. My hands are shaking and I feel like I might be sick, as I force myself to knock. There is no answer but I know he’s home.
I falter slightly. Maybe I should just go? Maybe I can just buy everything new and start again?
No. I need to do this.
I fumble in my bag, trying to find my key. When I finally find it, I have to steady my hand so I can push the key into the keyhole. It unlocks with a click.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my denim shorts, then turn the door handle.
The door creaks open. Before I can take a step inside, Sean is in my space. He’s glaring at me with pure hatred.
My pulse picks up at the sight of him, my toes curling. What’s he going to do? My body wants to run, but I’m frozen in place.
Then the feeling of being sick comes back like a wave, as the smell from inside overwhelms me—food that’s been left out too long, and a heavy fog of weed that coats my throat when I breathe.
The air feels thick and wrong, like the house itself is rotting from the inside.
The curtains are drawn, and the little light that filters in reveals the chaos—clothes left around the place, dishes stacked in the sink, ashtrays overflow.
It smells like the kind of place where time didn’t just stop, it stopped mattering altogether. Not since I left.
I shove away the guilt that tries to pull me under.
I can’t keep cleaning up his mess anymore.
I blow out a breath. Pretending to be stronger than I feel right now.
“Sean,” I say, steadying my voice. “I’m just here to grab my stuff, okay? I don’t want trouble. Just sit down. I won’t take long. I don’t need much.”
He seethes silently, then lets out a loud huff and slams himself down on the couch.
I can’t stop the trembling as I pack my things. Even now, I keep my eyes on his hands, on his sudden movements.
My chest is tight with panic, but I keep my back straight. Keep moving.
Get in, get out. Don’t react. That’s how I survive this.
I try to move quickly. I’ve already decided to leave most of it behind, but there are some things I want—things I need—clothes, makeup, my books, my paint brushes and pencils, Gizmo’s things, my keepsakes of Mum, and a few kitchen items I know Sean never used or even realised we owned.
And even though I promised myself I wouldn’t… I still clean a little as I go.
Lucas squeezes my shoulder when we pass in the hallway. Just a brief touch, but it grounds me. Tyler makes a dumb joke when he lifts my desk, and I almost laugh. Almost. I’m glad they’re here.
I get Tyler and Lucas to carry out my makeup desk and mirror. I grab a few other things and start to head out after them.
As I walk past Sean sitting on the couch, his voice stops me.
“Please don’t go, Camille,” his voice breaks.
I pause, swallowing hard.
I hate that it still hurts to hear him like this. But it hurts more to stay.
My stomach is in knots.
“I’m sorry, Sean. I have to go. You know that.”
“No, you don’t. Don’t give up on me. Don’t be a coward,” he sneers, slipping back into that condescending tone that used to control me.
I steel myself. “Sean. Stop. I have tried. I have been trying, trying for years.” I take a breath to stop myself from crying.
“The longer I stayed with you Sean, the less I loved myself. I know that sounds selfish to you, but I need to be. I need to love myself again. If you ever cared for me, you would want me to be happy. Please… just let me be happy.” I beg him, willing my voice to stay strong.
He looks at me with cold disdain. Then he stands abruptly, his body swaying slightly. His expression twists with disgust.
“You are fucking selfish, Camille. All you care about is you. Go run off with your new boyfriend, you fucking slut.”
Once, that word would’ve shattered me. Now it just proves I’m right to leave. This is who he is. Who he’s always been.
He punches the wall next to him with a loud crack, plasterboard splintering under his fist.
I flinch. My heart slams against my ribs. It’s a sound I’ve heard too many times. A reminder of the fear etched deep into my body.
I stare at him, frozen in place.
I can’t respond to him. I don’t know how.
There’s nothing left to say.
There is no reasoning with him.
There is no point explaining to him that he’s the selfish one, that this relationship has always been about his wants, his needs.
We were together for three years and we have gone no where because of him.
It never mattered what I did or what I said.
There was no helping him. I gave up so much of my life, loving this person who never cared if I was happy.
So he doesn’t deserve a response. He doesn’t deserve any more of my time, anymore of my life.
I am irrevocably done with this human.
I force my back a little straighter and take a deep breath. I am crumbling on the inside, but on the outside I will not show my weakness.
“Goodbye, Sean,” I say, before I turn around and walk out the door.
I feel the energy try to follow me out—bitter, like the memory of him is trying to cling to my skin.
Lucas and Tyler run up from the ute, eyes wide. They grab the box from my hands.
“What the hell was that noise?” Lucas asks. “Are you okay? What did he say?”
“Nothing,” I mutter, wiping the tears I didn’t realise I was shedding. I keep moving, busying myself packing the last of my things into the Ute.