Camille stands before her father, her body screaming in pain, her willpower the only thing holding her upright. Her spine throbs, her face feels like ice, but none of it matters. She’s ready. Ready to hear the truth, no matter how ugly. Why are the shadows targeting her? Why has her father become a monster?
“Camille,” her mother whispers, trembling as she sees the cold glint of determination in Steve’s eyes. She knows he’s on the edge, desperate to unburden himself with truths that will shatter Camille.
The tension in the room swells as Steve grins, almost maniacally, his joy spilling into the air like venom. “Oh, Camelia,” he mocks, turning to his wife with exaggerated glee. “She wants to know! What can I do?!” His voice brims with excitement, a man savoring the opportunity to finally break the chains around him.
“You know you can’t—” Camille’s mother cuts in, her voice sharp with fear. Her wide, pleading eyes dart to her husband, but it’s already too late.
“Mom…” Camille rasps, her voice weak but steady, caught off guard by her mother’s alarm. “You’ve known all along…”
Camelia’s lips press into a trembling line, and for the first time, Camille sees the weight her mother has carried for years. Her silence. Her sorrow. Her complicity. But why?
“Stop it! Just tell me!” Camille demands, the pain in her chest transforming into raw frustration.
Steve’s expression changes. He calls her name, softer this time—no shouts, no growls. “Camille, Camille,” he shakes his head, his lips curling into a slow, triumphant smile. “Have you ever stared death in the face? They say death is beautiful, an enchanting spirit that knows how to seduce you, to make you give up everything. Well…” His voice lowers to a chilling murmur. “I’ve seen her. She’s very, very real and the things I’ve done for her, well...”
“Steve, please!” Camelia’s desperation rises to a breaking point. “Don’t condemn yourself any further!”
“Condemn myself?” Steve laughs bitterly, his voice rising as the shadows around him seem to ripple with his rage. “I’ve been condemned from the moment you decided to have her!” He jerks his head toward Camille, his expression darkening as his voice turns venomous. “Why did you have to drag me to your misery!”
Camille’s heart pounds in her chest. “Why? What do you mean?”
“The reason’s not so hard to figure out, is it, Camille? Unless you’re stupid.” His laugh is a cruel bark. “This whole goddamn town knows it. I see it in their faces as they mock me. In their whispers when I walk by. You…” He points at her, his finger trembling with suppressed rage. “You’re a constant reminder. A reminder that—”
“Steve, stop!” Camelia screams, her voice breaking.
But it’s too late. He lunges at Camille with unnatural speed, his hands closing around her neck. Camille’s back slams against the wall as his grip tightens.
“You’re not my fault to bear,” he hisses, his eyes wild and hollow. “I want you gone. Dead. Do you hear me?” His voice is no longer his own—it’s deeper, darker, as though something else is speaking through him. The shadows seem to close in around them, feeding on her pain.
“Steve!” Camelia cries, her voice raw with anguish. “Stop! Please!”
Camille’s vision blurs as she struggles for air, her mind hazy with fear. The monster holding her is no longer her father—it’s something far worse.
And then, with a deafening crash, the shadows shatter. Camelia, clutching the heavy lamp from Camille’s bedside, swings it against the back of Steve’s head. His body collapses to the ground, unconscious.
“He’s not your father!” Camelia blurts out, her voice shaking as she drops the lamp.
Camille stares at her mother, stunned. She’s gasping for breath, her hands trembling as she wipes blood from her lips. The words hit her like a thunderclap.
“He’s… not my dad?” Camille whispers, her voice cracking, barely more than a breath.
Camelia’s face crumples, her own guilt spilling out in trembling waves. She falls to her knees and pulls Camille into a desperate, unrelenting embrace. “I’m so sorry, Camille,” she chokes out, tears soaking into her daughter’s hair. “I’m so, so sorry.”
For a moment, Camille doesn’t react. She’s frozen, caught between disbelief and something she can’t quite name. Then, it hits her—sharp and strange, like a fresh wind cutting through the suffocating fog she’s lived in for years. Relief. A shard of it pierces through her chest.
She isn’t his.
The realization blooms inside her like wildfire. She isn’t his.
Her breaths come in rapid, jagged gasps as the tears finally spill over, streaking down her face. But they’re not only tears of pain. Beneath the ache and years of torment, there’s a flicker of something else. Freedom.
“No real father would…” The words catch in her throat, but she doesn’t need to finish them. The memories are louder than anything she could say. The bruises. The shame. The lies. And the monster who inflicted them. Steve.
Camille’s hands shake as she presses them against her face, but then, as if something inside her snaps, she looks down. The man lying motionless on the floor beside her suddenly feels small. Weak. Worthless.
“He’s not my dad,” she whispers again, louder this time, the tremor in her voice replaced with something steadier. Her lips curl in a mixture of defiance and loathing.
She wipes her tears with the back of her hand, breathing deeply. For the first time in years, her heart feels lighter—like it’s no longer weighed down by chains.
This man—this thing—on the floor before her has no claim to her. No power. He never did.
Camelia’s hands cup her daughter’s face, her own tears falling freely. “There’s so much you don’t know, but now’s not the time. Camille, you need to leave. Now.” she pauses to catch her breath. There are still things that she can’t say to Camille; she needs to be careful not to stir up her curiosity. “Go to Paige’s house. I’ll take care of him here, but your safety is priority.”
“No,” Camille protests weakly, her voice trembling as her body slumps from exhaustion. Her legs feel like lead, and her heart aches in a way she can’t describe. “Let’s leave together… with Jordan.” Her voice cracks on his name, her thoughts turning to her little brother—so young, so blissfully unaware of the monster his father is.
Camelia’s hands tremble as she cups her daughter’s face. “Not now,” she whispers, her voice breaking. Then, more firmly, “I need to make sure he won’t find you. I need to make sure you’re safe.” Tears threaten to spill, but she holds them back with sheer willpower. “He won’t hurt me. Or Jordan. Please, Camille.” Her voice is pleading, desperate, but it carries a strength that only a mother protecting her child can muster. “You need to go. One day, I’ll explain everything. One day, you’ll know everything—I promise. But for now, you have to trust me. You have to be safe.”
Camille’s violet eyes, glistening with unshed tears, search her mother’s face for answers. Answers she knows she won’t get. All she sees is regret etched into every line of Camelia’s face—and love. An unshakable, overwhelming love.
Her voice comes out in a whisper, raw and shaky. “I know it’s not your fault.”
Camelia chokes back a sob, brushing a strand of Camille’s hair behind her ear. “We’ll talk when it’s time,” she promises, her voice steady but thick with emotion. “But you need to leave now. Please.”
Camille hesitates, her mind racing with questions that have no answers. She glances at Steve’s unconscious form, sprawled on the floor like the wreckage he’s left in their lives. Time feels like it’s slipping away, every second dragging her closer to a decision she doesn’t want to make. Deep down, she feels it—something is different. Something her mother isn’t telling her.
The way Camelia kept interrupting Steve, stopping him from revealing the truth, claws at Camille’s mind. What is it she’s not allowed to know? The weight of that secret presses on her, suffocating and unrelenting.
Camille swallows hard, her throat tight as she nods, knowing she won’t win this fight. Not now. “Okay,” she whispers, the word laced with exhaustion and defeat. She throws her arms around her mother, holding her as tightly as her tired body allows. Camelia’s arms wrap around her in return, fierce and protective. For a moment, everything else fades away, and it’s just the two of them clinging to each other as if the world is crumbling around them.
“I love you,” Camille murmurs into her mother’s shoulder, her voice muffled but heartfelt.
“I love you more,” Camelia replies, her voice breaking as she presses a kiss to her daughter’s temple.
With a deep breath, Camille pulls away, her movements sluggish as she forces herself to her feet. Every muscle protests, but she doesn’t let herself falter. She glances back at Steve, her lip curling in disgust. This man—this monster—will never haunt her again.
“You’ll be okay, right?” she mutters bitterly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I will,” Camelia says with a fierce determination that doesn’t match the hollow look in her honey-colored eyes. “I promise. Now go.”
Camille lingers for a moment, staring at her mother’s pale, worn face. The years of silent suffering, of enduring Steve’s wrath, are written in every shadow beneath her eyes, every line carved into her skin. She never complained, never fought for herself. But why?
Camelia nods softly, as if giving her permission to leave, her gaze urging Camille forward even as her heart begs her daughter to stay.
With a final, shaky breath, Camille turns toward the door. She grips the handle, her fingers trembling as she pulls it open. The cold night air rushes in, chilling her to the bone, but she doesn’t look back.
Not yet.
She lifts her eyes to the moon, her arms spreading wide as she grins through her tears.
“I’m free,” she whispers, a laugh bubbling up despite the pain in her body. “I’m finally free.”
And as she takes her first steps into the unknown, she feels it—a path without pain, without shadows. A new beginning.
“Free…” she repeats, her voice trembling with hope.