Chapter 2

[vibe track: revolusion - elliphant]

Cameron jerked awake on her side. Her heart was already beating fast.

Where the fuck am I.

The mirror across from her stared with bewildered, straining, red eyes and it all came back to her. Somewhere in the night, he must’ve pulled the sheets over her.

Morning light was pouring through the ugly, cream-colored curtains. She could feel he wasn’t next to her anymore.

Must’ve gotten up already. He seemed like the type.

What was his name again? Mar ... cus? Marlo? Marvin? Melvin? Yeah, definitely something like Mar ... something. Or Mel.

Who even knew if that was his real name, or just the name he’d put on his profile. He kept calling her “Selena,” and it’d taken her a few beats to remember that was the name she’d put on her profile.

Whoever he was, he was a fucking psychopath. Who the fuck puts a mirror right fucking there on the wall so you have to see it when you wake up. A fucking creep, that’s who. Probably watches himself jerk off to like, fucking ... fuck. I dunno. Whatever. Fuck it.

Cameron heaved a deep sigh.

They say — whoever they are — that people who lose someone wake up in the morning sometimes thinking everything is still fine, even if only for a few moments. She’d been hoping for that.

She didn’t get it.

The rest of the night was a blur still, but the call from the hospital — she didn’t forget that for a second. Not even while she was asleep.

Cameron slipped out of the bed and made sure everything else was still where she’d left it, pulling on her jeans and hoodie, and checking her backpack.

Laptop, phone, mixer/controller, headphones, cables, chargers, iPod, cigarettes, lighter, deodorant, duct tape, pocketknife, pepper spray. Everything was there.

Quietly, she opened the door a crack, poking her head out cautiously while she tried to remember which way to go. Some noises like dishes and cabinets clanging around came from the kitchen to the right, but on the left was her real target.

She shuffled into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, trying to minimize how much noise she made. Odds were good he’d noticed she was awake, but she wanted to make it clear she wasn’t ready for whatever inevitable morning-after talk he was probably going to try and have.

Cameron had been prepared for a weirdo. She hadn’t had a lot of options after midnight, but she’d picked Mar ... Mel— this fucking guy — because he was definitely safest. He looked like a pussy on his profile, which wasn’t ideal, but meant he was probably just going to be into something fucking creepy instead of something worse. She hadn’t cared; she’d just needed... something. A distraction, she supposed.

Once he’d given her his address, that’d confirmed it. Safe enough neighborhood — families and golden retrievers and shit. Probably an accountant or a clerk or a ... bank teller. Something like that. Bored as fuck and realizing no 23-year-olds fucked him when he was 23, but now maybe he could lure in a few desperate enough.

Maybe that’s what the fucking creepy mirror is for. Take some photos to prove it after he roofies them or whatever. Or ... after he holds them when they tell him—

She sighed, resting her face in her hands, just sitting on the toilet for another moment. None of that bullshit mattered.

Her phone buzzed, reminding Cameron that she’d never texted Kendra back. Sure enough, there were 13 new notifications, all from her friend. Cameron didn’t need to read them to know what they said. So she didn’t, just responded so that Kendra didn’t do something stupid.

hey. i’m ok. coming back soon.

They’d made a pact to always let each other know where they were, but this time things just got ... fucked. The last time Kendra hadn’t heard from her for a couple days, she’d called Gram. That was the absolute last thing Cameron needed right now.

Good get yo ass here u in trouble;)

That didn’t make her want to go back to their apartment, either. Kendra would want to talk.

Cameron buried her head in her hands again. She’d dreaded the sun coming up. But it had anyway. Tomorrow had come, and now everything she didn’t want to face was here.

No point in hiding from it.

She got up and washed her hands, splashing some water on her face. She looked like shit still, and her hair was a mess that she wasn’t even going to try and address at this point, leaving it drooping and scraggled.

Bracing herself, she made her way down the hallway and into the living room and kitchen. Marmel, or whoever the fuck he was, was sitting at a small kitchen table, spoon in a bowl of cereal. He wasn’t looking at it though — he’d clearly just been waiting for her and pounced when she entered the room.

“Hey, morning,” he said with a disarming smile, approaching her with a coffee cup in his hand. He wasn’t smiling across all of his face, just, like, half of it, or maybe a quarter. One corner was pulling the rest of it over. It gave the impression that they were in on something together, and that nobody else was.

Does he practice that in his bedroom mirror? Fucking probably. That’s probably what he jerks off to.

He was moving to intercept her, so she slowed rather than slam right into him. She figured that would’ve been rude.

Instead she just gave a little huff, as if she were trying to hide her annoyance. She wasn’t.

“Umm, do you ... want some coffee?” He held out the mug, handle toward her. It said English Teachers Get LIT with a fire emoji on it.

So not an accountant. But close. Even fucking creepier. Guess I know why he likes the young ones, fucking pervert.

She must’ve taken too long to respond because he moved on down the menu.

“Or, umm, can I get you some breakfast...? I make a mean cereal.” He tried on a goofy grin now. “Oh and feel free to take a shower, if you want. Take your ti—”

“Nope. Just gonna go.”

He definitely looked disappointed.

What, does he want round two? Or just wanna tie me up in his basement full of mirrors so he can dress me up in a schoolgirl outfit while he grins and dumps coffee all over me?

“Oh, okay, umm, you sure? You can take the coffee to go if you want. I know I can’t start my day without—”

She couldn’t take it anymore.

“I don’t want your fucking cereal, I don’t want your fucking shower, and I don’t want your fucking coffee. Get the fuck out of my way.”

She didn’t wait, just brushed past him and pulled on the door handle...

Which didn’t budge. Locked. Of course.

FUCK. Why can I never make an exit line fucking land. Goddammit.

She turned the lock on the handle and rattled it again, but it didn’t move.

“Here, sorry, it’s still—”

She fumbled with the deadbolt and got it turned before he could reach over her, yanking open the door and flashing one last glare in Marmel’s direction as she quickly walked out.

He didn’t close the door behind her — watching her go — which made her walk even faster. She let out a relieved sigh as she rounded the corner, out of his sight, and saw her car was still there.

Who would wanna steal it anyway.

Definitely nobody who lived in this neighborhood, she knew. It was morning in lower-middle-class suburbia, the rhythmic skt-skt-skt-sktttttttttttt of sprinklers on the lawns and a constantly droning lawnmower in the distance, even at this hour.

It made her stuff her hands deeper into her pockets and pull up her hood, even though it was already muggy out.

Her Toyota Camry was older than she was and sported a peeling, shit-brown paint job, which made for a convenient nickname — the Shitmobile — that also just matched its general vibe.

Inside, she slammed the door shut, mercifully making everything a little quieter, muffled. She took another deep breath and dropped her forehead onto the steering wheel, sitting in the quiet and stillness.

Marmel didn’t really deserve any of that shit, she admitted to herself — and only herself. He didn’t even have a basement. He was just ... being a nice guy. The kind of guy who knows how to fucking go down on somebody and then doesn’t complain he didn’t get anything in return.

She stopped there. Cameron knew that wasn’t even close to how he’d really shown her kindness when she’d needed it, practically begged for it. She didn’t want to relive that, though. As far as she was concerned, the rest of the night hadn’t happened.

Still, just because she wanted to pretend her moments of weakness hadn’t happened, that didn’t mean his moments of being kind to a... somewhat curt ... stranger hadn’t happened.

Cameron knew that even when she wasn’t trying to be a bitch, she wasn’t exactly all sunshine and rainbows. But she did feel a little bad that she’d made an extra point of being dickish to... fuck— and now she felt kinda bad she didn’t remember his name, too.

She pulled out her phone and held it under the steering wheel, finding his profile again.

Marvin. Fuck yeah, fucking nailed it. See? I remember people’s names. I’m a social fucking butterfly. Boom.

...

Marvin. What a stupid name. He doesn’t look like a Marvin, either. Does anybody?

It was before 8 a.m., but it was late August, so it was already getting hot in the shitbox. That was enough to get her moving.

The engine turned over a few times and kicked to life. Her phone synced to her makeshift tape-deck-Bluetooth adapter, blasting an electronic beat right alongside hot air from the AC.

As the air gradually cooled, Cameron closed her eyes and reclined the seat, letting herself get lost in the music, feeling it wrap around her. Hoping it would carry her away.