Because favours are priced...
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"You have an insatiable desire for trouble Camille Sanders. You'll never just be satisfied. You're like me, too wild for the world."
I laugh at the outrageousness. "You're dramatic I'll give you that Michae...
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Snap!
The rubber band leapt from my skin again and again, as I pulled it taut and let it fly. I could see the appeal in this repetition. It grounded you, snapped you back to reality. But no matter the amount of times the rubber hit my wrist, I didn't quite feel like I was in the real world.
No, this was a deep dark hallucination. Nothing was real. All of this was a figment of my imagination. I conjured up Dean because I was starting to worry about him.
I recall our lengthy conversation. What he found out...it sounded more like a conspiracy theory I would have come up with. Nothing sounded real. It was too absurd.
Snap!
I blink, suddenly yanking off the band and throwing it across the table. I rub my tired face furiously. I was going mad.
And I needed to talk to someone.
I let out a yelp as my phone starts ringing at the exact moment. My hand reaches out slowly, and grabs it. Isaac. Again.
Sorry Winston, I'm not in the mood for a conversation today. I let it ring on. Once it ends, I call the only person I can think of. Dean himself.
He'd only left 2 hours ago. I'd been cooped in my room, thinking. "Hey, why-"
"Did you actually just-"
"Yes. All of it is true."
"Dean, this is mad. I can't- I need-"
His reply is instant. "Don't. Camille don't. If you want to talk to someone, go talk with to Michael. It might help."
"Okay. Okay fine. I'll talk to him." I don't wait for his response, ending the call and springing up.
I brush off imaginary dust and straighten my shoulders. He should be home now. I'll go talk to him and then I can clear my head. But first, I need some...information.
Stepping out of the room, I run into Belinda. "Camille, I need to-"
"No thanks." I mutter and hurry down the steps. The twins were near the door, bags at their foot. Frowning, I turn towards the direction of the office.
My father steps out, locking his office door. When he notices me, he's shocked I can tell. We hadn't spoken for so long, that it seemed strange to crave his presence. But he's still my father.
Long ago, he had sensed the growing distance between us, but he never attempted to fix it. Ever. Even my stay here was my own decision. Not his want to fix things. But I can see why. There was no way to fix things when you can't tell me the whole truth.
But I needed him now. There was no use for truth I can't get from him, no use of our towering egos forbidding us from making the first move. I needed him, and he needed to be there for me like he promised me when I was a child.
