Before I say something I’ll regret, I remove myself. Slip out the door and into the open, desperate to carve some distance between us.
Maybe, in time, she’ll see I’m not the villain. I’m not the one who broke anything. But for now, space feels like the safest idea.
Still, leaving Cam alone with her? That’s a mistake waiting to happen.
The cool air hits me like relief, and something in my chest loosens. I don’t remember the last time I stepped outside just to be—no agenda, no anxiety clawing at my back. That’s the magic of Cam’s place. It’s tucked into the trees, far from the noise, hidden out of view.
It reminds me of the woods where Mom and Dad used to take me camping. Cousins playing tag in pine needles. Marshmallows over firelight. And my uncle…
He never touched me there.
Too many people.
Too many eyes.
So those memories stay clean. Untouched by his shadow.
They’re mine.
I wander until I’m nearly lost. The house is swallowed by trees now, the birds singing overhead without a care in the world. I let myself sink into the wilderness—no responsibilities, no expectations. Just quiet.
The leaves tumble around me like confetti, and the ferns brush softly against my legs. Twigs snap beneath my boots. Each step feels lighter, freeing me one foot at a time.
But my mind, ever the saboteur, veers sideways—dragging me somewhere darker, filthier. I picture Cam chasing me through these woods, masked, dressed the way I like. No mercy in his stride. Just purpose.
God, that would be fun.
I’ve kept most of my fantasies to myself—too scared he’ll call me strange like the others did. But maybe one day I’ll spill. Maybe he’ll like it. Maybe he already does.
We’d fuck like rabbits on the forest floor. Forgetting names, identities, rules. Just instinct and want.
A snap of a branch behind me drags me back to reality.
My heart drops. Stomach plummets. The dream dissolves instantly into something primal.
I spin on my heel, breath sharp, eyes scanning the undergrowth. I don’t know who orwhatwaits in the shadows. But I’m ready.
No weapon. No defence. Just my fists—and Cam’s advice echoing through my head—pluck and slap.
Not exactly reassuring.
A deer bolts somewhere deeper in the woods and I breathe out, slow and shaky, swiping the sweat slicking my forehead.
It wasn’t a close call. I know that. But it felt like one. Every branch snap carries weight. Every gust of wind feels like a warning.
I should head back. This adventure’s run its course. And with the sun dipping behind the trees, shadows stretch longer, and the horror film I watched the other night flickers at the edge of my mind like a broken reel.
Too quiet.
I tilt my chin to the sky. The clouds are streaked pink and blue, soft brushstrokes against the darkening treetops. Almost beautiful.
Then—
A hand.
Hard.
Sudden.
