Her eyes were direct and nonjudgmental as they searched my face.
I could see the exit now. A few more steps.
“We’re here,” I told her.
I pushed open the secret door hidden behind thick vines and debris—and stepped out into an open wide field. There was nothing but fields of grass.
“Cameron,” she said softly. “Tell me why. Tell me why you don’t think he should’ve been your friend.”
I could feel my body harden, then go numb. And when I faced her, I knew she wouldn’t see any hint of emotion on my face.
“He’s dead,” I told her coldly. “He’s dead because of me.”
Chapter 27
Kara
“He’s dead because of me.”
Cameron’s voice was flat. My eyes snapped to him, horrified by what I’d heard. His face had gone blank, devoid of any emotion.
I waited for him to tell me more, but he had gone silent. He was staring intensely at a spot in the distance, but when I looked over, there was nothing there but an empty field.
“Cameron,” I said as gently as I could, but he didn’t react. As if he had already retreated to a place where I couldn’t find him.
I reached for his hand, to hold on to him, but he pulled away.
I stepped back in response. I didn’t think he’d moved away from my touch before. I understood that he needed space right now, but still, his reaction stung. It was clear that he was in great pain, but he was trying his damnedest to hide it from me.
He was still staring at the same spot in the distance, as if he was watching a scene play out in his head. Maybe he was.
I don’t know how long we stood there in silence. It could have been a minute or a half hour. I didn’t say anything, just waited for him.
I looked at him and saw a tall, beautiful man with a broad back, carrying the weight of the world on his strong shoulders. But a body and heart could only take so much. One of them was bound to feel exhausted sooner or later. And someday his strength would give out. What would happen to him then?
“Cameron,” I said. “Tell me what happened here.”
When at last he looked at me, his eyes glistened with intensity. I couldn’t explain why I felt his pain right there and then, as if it were a solid thing floating in the air. It wrapped around us, covering the field with sorrow.
“We were supposed to meet that day,” he began. His voice, unlike his sad eyes, was hard and cold. “But I couldn’t get away.”
I could tell it was hard for him to talk about it. I looked back at the field again, wondering
why he bought the land if something horrific happened here.
Was it out of a sense of guilt? Of responsibility? A self-imposed punishment? But he said he’d been content here too. That it had been the only place where he had been happy.
“Why couldn’t you get away?”
He stepped forward, his back to me. He curled his hands into fists. I could tell it was in anger. I just wasn’t sure if it was directed at himself or something else.
“I couldn’t get away because I was locked up,” he answered.
My head snapped up. “What?”
“Raven locked me up in the house. And this time I couldn’t get away because if I tried and she caught me, there would be hell to pay.”
“Your mother locked you up?” My heart started to beat fast and that familiar feeling of anger rushing in my veins was taking over. I imagined Cameron as a kid—alone, lonely, hungry, locked in his house. What kind of mother would do that to him? What kind of childhood did he have? “Did she hurt you?” I asked.