13. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Cameron
I now know what drowning feels like. Since Melanie vanished, I still haven't left my parents' house, hell, I haven't left my old bed. All I've managed is calling and texting with no response and staring at the ceiling from beneath my covers. The weight of her absence is a physical thing, pressing down on my chest until breathing feels like an impossible task.
Why doesn't she answer? I hate the reason she isn't or can't answer. I fucking hate it. Who? Why? Where? I have nothing to go on. God, everything hurts. My chest when I breathe, my eyes from crying, my throat from screaming into pillows. My heart's shattered into pieces so small I'll never find them all.
I feel so damn helpless. I'm of zero help to her and it's killing me. I can't take it. The Sheriff's “we're working on it” updates only make everything worse. The same day she disappeared, they tracked her credit card to a small motel sixty miles away, then Walmart, then an ATM where she withdrew large amounts of cash from all her accounts, including our shared one. I couldn't care less about the money - I'd give her every penny if it kept her safe. Had he wanted money? Unfortunately, I saw the security footage. It shows her constantly looking around, even over her shoulder, clearly terrified. And now I live with the look of fear in those gorgeous eyes. She had to have been watched at the ATM, otherwise why didn't she call me? Send a text?
When Tobias told us the motel owner would only say she stayed one night, I felt like punching him. Why can't he come up with something - a lead, a clue? Fuck, at this stage I'd take a damn rumor that someone might have seen her. The waiting is anguish. I've prayed to every deity I can think of to bring her back, begging them to trade me for her. And yet here I am, still in this bed, tortured by the silence of no communication.
Life without Melanie isn't really life at all. We've been wrapped in each other's daily rhythms for so long that on our own, simple things become impossible puzzles. How do I get out of bed in the morning when she's not there reminding me I'm going to be late? How do I watch TV without her cold feet tucked under my legs? How do I come home to an empty house? No more singing. No more laughter. No more anything. How do I exist in a world where she isn't? I keep reaching for my phone and texting her, only to have no answer. I swear each time is just like losing her all over again.
I hear her voice on a loop in my head. When she answered the phone in the car, she seemed confused, scared. I've tried so many times to make sense of it, but I just can't. Other than he, Melanie referenced a he. We know who he is. We watched that sadistic bastard deliver the box, then wait in the lobby before he went and disabled the side hall camera. We saw him. He must have done it, then slipped up the hidden passageway and taken her. I saw the prints in the dust just outside the closet door. Tobias said it looked like a struggle. I fear with the state of the dressing room, he wasn't wrong.
Every time I close my eyes, I see that knife-scarred face leering at her, those massive hands around her, touching her... I force my mind away from those images, but they seep back like poison. What kind of man am I, lying safe in bed while she's out there, battling for her life? I'm rubbish, complete rubbish. My mom, dad and the rest of the family keep telling me to have hope, to trust Sheriff Trenton. The only one who gets how I feel is Michael. He's willing to discuss the what-ifs, what could be happening to my Melanie. Michael's even put up a hundred-thousand-dollar reward for information that leads to her return. At least he's doing something.
I pull the covers tighter over my head as tears leak onto my pillow. Mom keeps opening the damn curtains each morning, insisting sunlight will help. She doesn't understand that I don't deserve light or warmth or comfort while Melanie could be cold, hurt, or worse. My soul left with her, I'm just an empty shell haunting my childhood bedroom, doomed to relive every moment I failed to protect her. Keep the curtains closed.
Word of her disappearance has spread. The joy of living in a small town. People keep reaching out, but the only voice I want to hear belongs to my Melanie. I've listened to her last voicemail so many times, I've memorized every breath, every pause. “Love you, see you soon!” she'd said. If I'd known it was the last time.
Heavy footsteps on the stairs make me burrow deeper under my blanket fortress. My bedroom door crashes open with enough force to rattle the walls.
“Damn dude, Mom's going to kick your ass if you made a mark on the wall.” Carson's voice holds a forced lightness.
Great, just what I don't want. Visitors.
“You said make an entrance,” Colton defends. “Besides, if there's a mark, I'll blame it on you.” His voice shifts to a mocking falsetto. “And all will be forgiven for the golden child.”
I roll my eyes under my blanket shield. Some things never change this is how they've been this way since we were kids, either best friends or at each other's throats. The familiarity should be comforting, but it just highlights everything else that's changed. Although Carson, being the golden child, will never change.
“Hey, lazy ass, get out of bed.” Colton yanks my leg.
“Way to be sympathetic, bro.” Carson sighs.
“Go away,” I mumble. “I'm not moving till they find her. I'll remain here and there's nothing anyone can do about it.”
“Bullshit.”
“Like hell.”
They speak in unison, and then it starts. One grabs the left side of my blanket, the other the right. They pull downward while I desperately cling to my protective cocoon. If they want a battle, then fine, let's battle. I yank back. They pull. When they finally wrench it away, I notice they're still in their hospital scrubs. They came straight from work. The realization that they'd drop everything to check on me makes my throat tight.
“Shit, you smell like something died in here.” Colton wrinkles his nose.
“Tough.” I growl.
“Cameron,” Carson's voice gentles like he's talking to a spooked animal. “Come on, you need to get up, shower, eat something. This isn't healthy.”
“Why should I eat?” I snap, still in my bed. “How do I know she's eating?” The words tear from my throat. “What if she's hungry? Has she had water? Is she cold? What if she hasn't showered or slept? What if-” My voice breaks and I stop.
“She's still going to smell better than you.” Colton throws open both windows. “This room needs serious ventilation.”
“Shut. The. Damn. Windows.”
“Do it yourself.”
“GO AWAY!” I pull a pillow over my face.
“Trust me, with that smell we'd love to,” Colton pokes my side. “But we're your brothers. We're not leaving you like this. Plus, Mom summoned us, and I'm not facing her wrath because you've decided to become a cave troll.”
“Not happening, little brother.” Carson agrees. “Now get up. Mom's cooking dinner.”
“Screw that. I'm staying here.”
“I don't think you understand how this works,” Carson's voice carries a warning.
“Go away!”
“Get up!”
“Make me.”
“Gladly.”
“Hell yes!”
Before I can react, they grab my legs and start dragging me toward the bathroom. I kick and thrash, but they've got me. In desperation, I grab the mattress, dragging it and all the bedding with me.
“LET GO OF ME!”
“GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED!”
“At least you're getting some circulation now,” Carson, ever the oldest sensible brother, comments in his doctor's voice.
“SHUT UP CARSON!” Colton and I yell together.
“BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP AND YOU GET IN THE DAMN SHOWER!” The niceness of Carson's doctor's voice is gone.
“I'M NOT GETTING IN THE SHOWER!” I bellow.
“WANNA BET?” Colton yells. “IF WE HAVE TO, WE'LL GET IN WITH YOU!”
“We will?” Carson sounds uncertain until he locks eyes with Colton. “I mean, HELL YEAH WE WILL!”
Mom's voice drifts in, and we all freeze like we have so many times in the past, straining to overhear our parents' conversations. Mom tells our dad, “You should go break them up.”
“Me?” Dad scoffs. “I'm not going in there. Let them handle it.” Their footsteps retreat and the fights back on.
“Cam, let go of the mattress!” Carson tells me as they pull my feet. “You're not going to win.”
“Just keep pulling. The mattress will stop at the doorway.”
“NO!”
True to his word, the mattress wedges against the bathroom doorframe. As I lose my grip, they haul me into the bathroom, all three of us crashing against the far wall. Colton scrambles up to turn on the shower.
“Let's throw him in clothes and all.”
“Perfect.”
“Fuck off.” I snarl, but they're already lifting me. My feet barely touch the ground as they manhandle me under the spray. Then they just step back and stand there, arms crossed, blocking the exit.
“You don't have to watch!” I struggle with my soaked shirt.
“Can't trust you to stay in there.” Colton raises his eyebrows. “Mom's orders.”
“Fine, I'll fucking shower!” I throw my wet clothes at them. They dodge the wet mess. “You can go now. Or do you really want to watch me wash my balls?”
“Give us a show!” Colton hums a striptease tune.
I turn to face the shower, rolling my eyes.
Colton claps. “Work it, baby brother!”
“Come on,” Carson tugs Colton's arm. “Let him shower.”
“But I wanted to watch!”
“Pervert!” I throw water at him.
“Takes one to know one!” Colton yells back.
Their voices fade as they leave. Why couldn't I have been an only child?
The hot water beats against my shoulders as I mechanically wash my hair. The memory hits like a baseball bat to the face - Mel and I in the shower, her face tilted up to the spray, dark hair clinging to her wet back, her moans echoing off the tiles when I powered into her. Instead of arousal, the memory brings crushing guilt. While I'm here getting clean, is he touching her? Hurting her? Forcibly taking her?
My knees give out and I slide down the corner of the shower wall, pulling myself into the tightest ball possible. The water mixes with fresh tears as sob after sob rolls through me. “I should have kept you safe, protected you.” I've never faced losing my entire world before. Every terrible possibility crowds my mind. “What if he killed her?”
I barely register Colton yelling for Carson and Dad. Somehow, the cold water stops. I can't focus on who's drying me off. I know she's gone, dead. Dad's face is in mine; he's saying something but his words are meaningless noise. As they put a shirt over my head, the edges of my vision go dark. The last thing I see is Mom's face, mouth forming my name, before everything fades to black.