Kara

"Cam, wake up."

Cameron opened his eyes. His breaths were fast and shallow, as though he was running from a monster chasing him. Maybe he was.

It had been over a year, but this scene was so familiar to me it felt like it just happened yesterday. The realization that he was still suffering from his nightmares twisted my heart. Had they never left? Something was still haunting him.

Instead of turning away from me and getting out of bed like he usually did before, instead of going off somewhere by himself until he felt calmer, he did something unexpected. He gathered me in his arms, pressing me against him, burying his face in my hair. My arms automatically wrapped around him.

"Kara."

I could hear the relief in the huskiness of his voice, hear the pounding of his heart against his chest, feel the coldness of his skin. I pressed him closer, willing the coldness in his bones to dissipate. I'd take it if I could. 

"You were having a bad dream," I said.

His arms tightened around me. Soon his heartbeat started to even out, his breathing steadier.

"I'm sorry I woke you up."

"Don't be. I can't believe you still have them. Have they stopped at all?"

"Sometimes."

He kissed the top of my head, then pulled away and got out of bed. He turned the lights on in the kitchen, dimmed them. I sat at the edge of the bed, and feeling the chill in the air, grabbed the duvet, and put it around me.

Shirtless and only in his grey sweatpants, I watched him take a glass from the cupboard, fill it with water from the tap and drink.

"Would you like some?" he asked.

I shook my head.

Silently he crossed to the fireplace, throwing logs in, stoking the fire back to life. He stayed crouched in front of it for a moment, and I knew he was lost in his thoughts.

"I need to tell you something," he said after a moment. "More than what I had already told you."

There was a heaviness in his tone that made me nervous, made me straighten my spine. "Okay."

He rose, grabbed his shirt hanging on the back of the chair and put it on. Then he walked closer and stood in front of me, lowered his head so that he was looking at me. I looked up at him, waiting.

His dark hair slid down to caress his cheek. The fire behind him created dancing shadows on the walls, striking the beauty of his face, but hiding the look in his eyes. I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

Then he knelt, his arms going around my hips, pressing the side of his face on my lap. I loved when he did this. It showed that he was willing to be vulnerable in front of me.

I caressed his head, burying my fingers in the softness of his dark hair. "Cam, what is it?"

"I don't want to lose you again."

"I'm right here. I want to be here with you. I always do."

He took a deep breath. "I remember the nightmare."

My heart pounded. He never did before, and if he did, he'd never told me. His nightmares had always worried me deeply. I suspected they could be about Pete, his childhood friend who died in the maze. Cameron had witnessed his death. How do you forget something like that? Impossible.

Then again, it was possible that the nightmares could be something else entirely. But what could they be about? One thing for sure, I knew it had something to do with his monster of a mother. 

With Cameron not remembering the details, it felt like fighting a faceless enemy. I was eager to hear what he had to say because then we could unmask it and we could start fighting back.

"Do you remember all of it now?" I asked.

"I don't know." His arms tightened around me. I could hear the dread in his tone. The muscles in his body were tense and hard. "I don't even know if all of it is real or if my mind made some of it up."

To soothe, I stroked the back of his neck, and I realized that it felt like I was trying to tame a wild animal and being careful not to chase it away. "It'll be all right. Tell me, Cam."

"I think the nightmare was a memory in my childhood. Part of it anyway. It happened shortly after Pete died."

"It's about Pete, right?"

"I thought it was, but it's not."

He pulled away, then rose to sit beside me. Legs spread, he leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees.

"The beginning is always the same," he started. "I'm back in my childhood, back to the house where Raven and I lived in."

"The house a few blocks from here?"

"Yeah. In the dream, I was a kid again. It's dark. It's always dark. I'm lying in my bed, holding a beat-up teddy bear like it's a lifeline. I'm hiding under the bed sheets because there's something outside my room that terrifies me. I don't know what it is and I don't want to find out, but I hear someone calling my name."

He lowered his head, rubbed his palm on his mouth then dragged it behind his neck, staying there. He looked so... alone. As though he had forgotten where he was, that I was even in the room with him. When he raised his head, he looked straight ahead as though he was watching the nightmare in front of him happen in real time. It reminded me of the time in the maze when he was telling me about Pete.

"She's calling me, shouting for help. I have to find her. I have to know she's okay because she says she's all alone and she doesn't have anyone but me. She depends on me. She says she'll hurt herself if someone takes me away from her. And I know she means it and it scares me. So, I run, and run, and run, opening doors, following the voice calling my name. The floor is cold. The air is freezing, but I keep running. Then I see a light under a door. I'm too scared to open it, but I know I have to.

"And when I do, I see Raven standing in the room. She's holding a gun, but I can't see who else is inside the room with her. She fires it, one shot after another. But I look down on my hands because I feel something cold and heavy. And I see blood all over my hands, and the stuffed toy is gone, but now I'm holding a gun. Raven keeps saying you did it for mommy, over, and over, and over again. Then I wake up."

As though he just woke up from his nightmare, he blinked slowly, once, twice. His hands were shaking. I wasn't even aware that I had turned to face him and that my hands were shaking too as I reached for him, embraced him in my arms.

"You're shaking."

"It'll pass. I'm fine, Kara."

"You said you're not sure if it's even real or your mind made it up. Maybe it's all made up."

"A man died in that house that night. That part is real. The question is...did I kill him?"

I released him, my eyes widening in horror, my heart pounding against my chest. "How do you know that a man died in that house that night? Just because you dreamt it doesn't mean it happened."

"I was on my way to town and drove by the house where it all happened. The house is on the market, been there a while. I guess no one wants to buy a place where someone was shot and killed."

But he said it so casually, as though he was talking about the weather. And I knew that he was trying not to let it get to him, trying to numb himself from it.

"When did you go there?"

"Just before Caleb's birthday party. I met the caretaker of the house, Romeo. I remember him. He lives on the same street. I used to steal apples from the tree in his front yard. He was nice to me. He let me inside that house and told me that his son was Detective Joel Moore, the cop who found me and Raven in that house that night. He also found a dead man."

"Did he tell you that?"

"When I went inside that house, I remembered... no, I know some parts of my nightmare really happened. Enough to know that someone died in there. Romeo gave me his son's info and I went to see him at his house. I told Joel who I was and he said he remembered me.

"That night he was on his way to dinner at his parents when he heard gunshots coming from my house. When he got inside the house, he found Raven beaten up. She was hurt real bad. Hysterical. And I was lying unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. With a gun in my hand."

My breath caught in my throat. Tears pricked the sides of my eyes, but I tried to hold them back.

It seemed like so much had happened since we parted ways. He'd been dealing with all of it by himself. I had my family with me, my friends, but he'd chosen to deal with everything by himself again. And he shouldn't have to. Compassion for his suffering swamped me, but also frustration and helplessness. I could only hope that this time he'd choose differently and accept help.

"Then another man walked in from the kitchen, carrying a first aid kit. Joel thought he was the criminal, cuffed him. Turns out the man was helping us out, too. He came just before Joel did. A good Samaritan, he called him. When Joel went upstairs, he found Raven's boyfriend, gunshot wounds in his chest.

"He said when he was interviewing Raven, she told him that I saw her boyfriend beating her up and I shot him, then I fell down the stairs possibly from the impact of firing the gun or I got scared. Didn't break a bone in my body. He interviewed the witness too. They closed the case as self defence. I was a minor when it happened.

"They took me and Raven to the hospital after, and that I was in and out of consciousness. Hit my head on the fall and got a concussion, some bleeding. When I woke up, I didn't remember that night at all.

"He said when he came to visit me, my father was there. He and Raven were screaming at each other. No surprise there. I know that's my parents' favourite way of communicating. Anyway, my father demanded that I see a therapist, especially that my friend just recently died, and if she doesn't do what he asked, my father will take me away from her. That explains why Raven dragged me to see all those therapists. I always wondered why because she despises shrinks, hates them, but always uses them to threaten me."

"Wait. What do you mean 'especially that your friend just recently died'? Does that mean this happened just after Pete died?"

That would make Cameron eight years old. When Pete died, he was at that age. I couldn't imagine how horrible it must have been to an eight-year-old boy to be trapped in this madness.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, it did. Joel told me the doctor thinks because of all the trauma, my mind tried to protect itself by blocking the memory. It could be from my head injury too. Who knows? But that's possibly why when I woke up, I didn't remember anything from that night."

"Except that it manifested itself in your nightmares."

"Kara." He placed his finger underneath my chin, lifted it slightly so that our eyes met. "Why are you crying?"

I wiped my cheeks and discovered they were wet. I didn't even know I was crying.

"You just witnessed your friend die in front of you," I answered. "Then after that a man tried to murder your mother. In front of you again. No wonder your mind blocked the memories of that night. It was too traumatizing."

"What?" He jerked back, his gaze intense on my face. "I tell you all this and that's what you say to me? If all this happened, I'd have killed a person, Kara. Aren't you... disgusted?"

"You're asking me if I'd be disgusted with an eight-year-old who defended his mother from someone stronger than her, bigger than her, and who was beating her to death? I believe that murder is wrong, killing and violence is not the answer.

"In a situation like that, what would you want me to tell a child, who was supposed to be protected by the adults around him, who wasn't even supposed to be subjected to a traumatizing situation like that, what would you want me to tell him? Should I blame him, crucify him for saving his mother's life? And all this happened just after he'd witnessed his friend die in front of him.

"What do you think I feel for him? I want to carry him in my arms, hug him so hard. I want to protect him from the world. I want to assure him that it's going to be okay. That someday he will heal from it and that I would help him. Even if he never forgets what happened, I will help him find peace. I will protect him with everything I have. That's how I feel about it."

He was looking at me with such gratitude in his eyes, relief, and love that it flooded my throat with emotions. It pained me that he would think I would reject him or feel disgusted with him, that he never reached out to anyone for help. And then one name sprang in my mind: Raven.

"Did you ever ask Raven about it?"

"Yeah."

At the look on his face, I already knew what she must have told him.

"She says that only she knows the truth. She...mocks me, saying my secret's heavy and that I'd have to pay a heavy price for it. That I saved her life. That I'd never see things the same way again if I remember. Shit like that."

My hands turned into fists as hot anger wrapped around my chest. "What does she mean that only she knows the truth? What truth?" I gritted my teeth, realization hitting me. "In your dream, Raven was the one who fired the gun."

"Yeah, but somehow the gun ends up in my hands. I might have been the one who shot him, but...I think there's something more that happened that night than what they've told me," he said gravely. "When I went to see the house, I remembered some of what happened that night."

"I think seeing and being in that place where it happened triggered something in your memories. What is it that you remembered, Cam?"

"I remember that she was holding a gun." He rubbed his palm on his face. "But that doesn't mean I didn't shoot him. That just tells me she had the gun at one point."

"Do you think... like in your dream she was the one who shot him? And what? Blamed you for it?"

His eyes were filled with the weariness you can only obtain from a punishing world. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just hoping that I wasn't the one who... killed him. Maybe my mind is in denial of every damn thing. But the things Raven told me—it fucks me up, Kara. I hate it."

"What a sick, twisted bitch. I'm sorry, Cam, but I hate your mother. She tells you all this fucked up things to torture your mind. Only she knows the truth? She taunts you with it, doesn't she? Otherwise, why would she say it like that? As if there's a huge secret she is hiding from you. Maybe there is.

"She uses bits and pieces of that night to manipulate you, to terrorize you. She wants to know she can overpower you, control you by keeping the truth from you. That keeps her connected to you in some way. She's fucking twisted as fuck.

"It seems to me that she's using everything to stop you from having a life without her. She wants to be in your life and this is the only way she knows how. She's the worst."

Feeling extremely protective of him, I shrugged off the duvet and straddled him to be closer, placed my hands on his shoulders.

"Listen, Cam. I have a few questions. Raven said you shot the man. But in your dream, she did. I'd trust your dream more than I would trust whatever came out of Raven's mouth. I want to know what the witness said."

"Yeah, I know. I asked Joel to find the name of the witness for me, but he's not answering my calls. I'm hoping the witness will talk to me. When I spoke with Joel, he asked me about Raven, how she's doing, asked what her name is. He sounded like he didn't remember her name. When I left, I realized I hadn't given him my number. So, I went back."

"And?"

"I heard him behind the door. He was on the phone with Raven. He said, your boy was just here and he's asking questions."

Goose bumps danced along my arms and the back of my neck. "The cop's in on it. Why would he pretend he doesn't even remember Raven's name and then calls her on the phone after you leave?"

Did Raven murder her boyfriend and blame it on Cameron so she wouldn't go to jail? What the hell? What kind of warped, sick mind...

"I don't know if the cop's in on it. If he knows the truth of what happened that night and covering it up, or if he doesn't know a damn thing and just going by what Raven said. But I need to find out, Kara. What the hell happened that night. Joel mentioned that Raven and the witness had the same story, but what story?

"I want to know what the witness saw that night. Did he see me shoot the man? Or did he arrive after the man was already dead? Because if the witness came in after the man was already dead, that means the only person, the only witness to what really happened that night was Raven."

"We have to find out who the witness is. Can you get the police records?"

"I already filed the paperwork with the police. I'm waiting for them to get back to me, but I don't know how deep Raven's connections go. There's a possibility she'll stop me from getting them, but if that's the case, I'll use every avenue I can to access them."

"Your dad was at the hospital, right? Maybe he knows something. Have you talked to him about it? Do you talk to him at all?"

"No. My father and I haven't spoken in a while. I wanted to ask him what he knows about that night, but his lawyer told me he's got a lot going on with his trial." There was hesitation in his eyes. "I'll see him soon."

"Cam."

"Yeah?"

"What if you were the one who shot the man? What if you never find out? This is eating at you. If Raven is the only one who knows what happened that night, she may never tell you the truth."

"You're right. I want to try and find out what I can anyway."

"Do you think once you do, you'll get rid of the nightmares? That maybe you just need closure."

"Maybe."

"What if you never get closure? Could you let it go?"

"I want to. I'd have no choice but to move on."

"Then let others help you. You said Rick recommended a therapist to you before. A damn good one, he said."

"He did. I'll think about it. Seriously this time," he said, and I knew he meant it. "I was... terrified to tell you all this. I thought that you'd be disgusted, be scared of me."

"No, Cameron. Not at all. Not even close."

He placed his palm on my cheek, his thumb caressing my bottom lip. "Why are you so good to me?"

Oh, this man. How can I not?

"Because I love you, Cameron. I trust you. I believe you."

He gripped my wrist. "You don't know how much you mean to me. You can't possibly know, Kara."

His blue eyes burned as he looked back at me. His jaw hardened as he worked on a swallow. I could see it in his eyes, knew he was fighting something inside himself. Something in him was telling him he didn't deserve love. He struggled to accept love, to believe that he could have it.

"I do know, Cameron," I implored, and with my other hand that he wasn't gripping, I lifted it and stroked his face, his jaw, his lips. "Because I feel the same way about you."

Then I saw it in his eyes the moment he accepted it. His gaze softened, his grip on my wrist relaxed, the hardness and tension in his body slowly disappeared. The small smile on his mouth was gentle as he leaned close to my ear. "Kara," he whispered. "Thank you for coming back to me."

His words and the way he said them made my heart full. His palm slid on the small of my back, teasing, caressing, pressing me against his hard body. I gasped as my breasts crushed against his chest. My hands automatically wrapped around his shoulders and I leaned back to look at his face but he was already there, crushing my lips against his.

His hands, so softly, so gently stroked the sides of my neck, lifting my jaw as his tongue urged me to open my lips. And when I did, the kiss turned wild and hungry.

"Let me show you how much I want you," he pleaded. "Need you. Love you."

"Yes, show me." I gasped as he gripped the back of my thighs, lifting and carrying me so that I was lying on the bed with him on top of me. "But after that it's my turn."

The sun was peeking on top of the trees by the time I curled up against him and fell asleep with a smile on my face. With his arms around me, he slept peacefully with no more nightmares.