Cameron 7: The Finale

by Jade Jones

  Cameron ran around the bedroom, looking for something she could use to escape. Frantic, she rushed to the nightstand and pulled open the top drawer. Inside was an assortment of wallets. Cam quickly flipped through each one of them. It took her a second to realize they belonged to Jag’s victims. His twisted ass kept every single one, like some weird collector’s hobby. They were his glorified trophies.

  Cam saw their faces on their IDs and felt pity for every one of them, no matter the reason they had to be gunned down.

  After grabbing a random Visa, she ran to the door, and dropped to her knees. Sliding the plastic card in between the door, she bent it the opposite way, forcing the lock to go back.

  The door popped open almost instantly.

  Cameron wasted no time running through the cabin to look for her children. She was almost to their bedroom when Rebecca literally thwarted her path. Before she could open her mouth to say something, Cam checked her ass.

  “You didn’t fucking hear me screaming in there?! Are you fucking deaf or something? You should’ve called the police!”

  “I don’t want to be in the middle of something I know nothing about.”

  Cameron was mortified by her discourteous answer. In anger, she pushed the shit out of her. “Then move, bitch! Get the fuck out my way! I should smack yo’ stupid ass!” She went in the children’s room, and found them both tucked comfortably in their cribs. Cam was just about to grab Journee when Rebecca boldly stopped her.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you take them. I don’t think he’ll like that at all.”

  Cameron cut her eyes at the oblivious woman. “He?” she repeated. “Bitch, do you even know who he is?”

  “I don’t care who he is. He paid me $2,000 to watch his damn kids and that’s exactly what the hell I’m gonna d—”

  Cameron punched her ass dead in the mouth. She was tired of her flapping her gums. Rebecca dropped to the floor and cradled her split lip. She never saw it coming. Any other time, Cam would’ve felt bad, but considering the circumstances she felt liberated.

  “You deserved that shit and more! Be glad I don’t stomp a hole in yo’ mothafucking ass! You sat here all fucking night, listening to me scream for help, and didn’t do a damn thing! I should fuck you up, bitch!”

  Rebecca cowered in fear, and it wasn’t until then that Cam realized she was being unnecessarily violent. Jag’s ways must’ve been rubbing off on her.

  Turning her attention away from the frightened babysitter, Cameron focused on her children. By then, both of them were wide-awake and alert. Cam bundled Journee up tightly in her blankets and then took Justin by the hand.

  “Give me your phone and car keys,” she told Rebecca.

  “P—please…I don’t want any trouble. I don’t wanna be in the middle of anything! I—I met him in a bar the other day. I don’t even know the guy,” she cried, believing infidelity was the real issue.

  Cameron was disgusted that Jag wasn’t better acquainted with Rebecca. He didn’t know her background, and yet he had her watching their kids. What the fuck was wrong with him? Who would do something so careless?

  “I said give me your mothafucking phone and keys! Don’t make me ask again!”

  Rebecca scrambled to her feet and retrieved the items. With trembling fingers she handed them over. Jag’s baby mama had her shook.

  Cameron snatched them out of her hand and quickly left the cabin as if it were engulfed in flames. She shivered a bit at the rush of cool air that greeted her. Cam felt no remorse for taking the innocent woman’s PT Cruiser. That bitch could rot in hell for all she cared.

  After securing the kids in the car, she hopped in the front seat and started the engine. Thankfully, there was enough gas in the tank to get far away from the cabin as possible.

  Cam’s heart pounded with fear as she pulled out the driveway. She didn’t even know where she was going. She had no GPS, no sense of direction, and was virtually surrounded by forest and wildlife. All she knew was that she needed to put distance between her and that god-awful cabin.

  In the rearview mirror, she saw Rebecca run out, cursing at her. Blood painted the Hollister sweater she wore. Her lip was still leaking.

  I bet her ass never steps to a mother sideways again. Cameron had made sure she learned her lesson.

  Slamming her foot down on the accelerator, Cam peeled off, burning rubber. She was so close to freedom that she could taste it—

  BOOM!

  Out of nowhere, a sedan slammed directly into the side of the retro styled compact car. Cameron’s head smacked the driver’s window, causing her to immediately lose consciousness. Fate had just dealt a terrible blow. Her plan to escape was purposely sabotaged.

  Billows of smoke expelled from the hood of the Cruiser. She barely made it out the driveway before the collision occurred. Justin and Journee hollered in the backseat of the car. The excitement and danger was too much for them to handle.

  Journee had actually fallen under the passenger seat after the crash. Her tiny face was red and puffy as she hollered at the top of her lungs. She should’ve been in a car seat, but Cam was so set on getting away that she overlooked it.

  Jag took his time climbing out the sedan. A second person hopped out his passenger seat. He had come home earlier than planned only to catch Cam trying to escape yet again. She was relentless…and predictable.

  “I don’t know when this silly ass bitch is gonna learn,” he said, shaking his head. There was a strained expression on his face. He was tired of her useless attempts to run. Cameron belonged to him and he was unwilling to compromise.

  Jag opened the Cruiser’s driver door and glass spilled out onto his black Balenciaga sneakers. There was a tiny cut on the side of Cameron’s head. Her body was slumped in the seat. She looked dead, but he knew she was only knocked out.

  Rebecca ran up, pulling her hair out, and acting frantic that her vehicle was totaled. “My car! What the hell?! My fucking car!”

  “How did this happen?” Jag asked, angrily.

  “It wasn’t my fault! She just took off!” Rebecca scrutinized the damage to her vehicle. “I don’t even have insurance! What the fuck is wrong with you people? Are you gonna pay for this shit?”

  “No,” Jag said. “You are.” Without warning, he grabbed his gun, and blew her fucking brains out. She dropped to the pavement on the side of the street like a sack of potatoes. There was a dime-sized hole in her cranium emitting a thin haze of smoke.

  The loud sound of the gunshot echoed, making the children cry even harder. Luckily for him, the nearest neighbor was miles away, and people hunted nearby regularly. No one would suspect a thing, and no one would call the police.

  After tucking his gun in the waistline of his jeans, Jag fetched the babies from the damaged car and took them back inside the cabin. When he came back out Cameron was slowly coming to. She looked up at him with slightly blurred eyes. She couldn’t tell if she was dreaming or not.

  Jag barely gave her time to recuperate before sideswiping her ass back to sleep. Tossing Cam’s limp, unconscious body over his shoulder he carried her back inside their home. Try as she might, there was no escaping his web of insanity.

  8

  Cameron drifted in and out of consciousness as she fought to return to reality. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw Jag hanging over her like a dark cloud with a crooked smile on his face. At first, she thought she’d died in the car accident and gone straight to hell.

  Damn. I know I did some fucked up shit in life but hell though? That seems rather crass.

  “You made me kill that bitch,” he said. “I didn’t wanna do it but you made me. I couldn’t have her ass running to the police so I did what I had to… But her blood is on your hands, Cam. I hope you know that shit.”

  Her eyes darted nervously around the room. She wanted to shrivel up and die after noticing she was back in their bed handcuffed. Fourteen hours of lock picking was unquestionably in vain. She was right where she started, mise
rable, hopeless, and condemned. Tears welled up in Cameron’s eyes.

  This shit is unreal, she thought.

  “How long are you gonna do this?” he asked. “How long you gon’ run before you realize no one’s gonna love you more than me?”

  “Jag, I just wanna go home,” she cried. Her voice was huskier than normal due to the tears that were backed up in her throat.

  “Home is with me,” he said.

  “Jag, please—”

  “Ssh. Ssh.” He placed a finger to her cracked, dry lips, silencing her. “Don’t talk, just relax. You hit your head pretty hard.” He withheld the fact that he knocked her lights out too. “I have a surprise for you,” he said. “Guess who I ran into today at the airport?”

  As if on cue, a familiar face suddenly walked in and Cam’s entire body stiffened. She didn’t think it was possible for shit to get any crazier until now. Yeah, she had to be in hell. That was the only excuse for what she was currently seeing.

  There was an awkward pause in the room.

  For months, Jag talked to thin air, believing it was his sister…but now Alessia was actually standing there in the flesh. “Auntie Lessie’s home,” he said happily.

  After Anzia was murdered, Alessia hitchhiked from Savannah back to Atlanta. Jag was always traveling for work, so she was never able to get in touch with him. She tried calling, but all his old numbers were disconnected.

  When he moved to Ohio last year to be with Cam he was far beyond her reach by then. Jag was a killer so his tracks were always covered, making him tough to trail. He didn’t keep the same numbers, he never stayed in the same place long, and he moved around a lot.

  Alessia was torn up about her mom and too scared to return home at first. But when she realized she needed money she worked up the courage to go back. There was a little cash left over for emergencies, but nothing to survive on. It wasn’t long before her homeless downward spiral began.

  Since she was an immigrant living in America, Alessia wasn’t a societal concern. No one reported her missing. No herd of people came looking for her. She had no family, no friends in Savannah. For over a year she lived on the streets and took care of herself. She survived by begging for spare change and sleeping in abandoned buildings. More recently she began soliciting donations at the airport. That was where she fatefully bumped into her brother.

  Alessia had been on the run, homeless and alone all that time. And she blamed everything—including her mother and brother’s death—on Cameron. Jag may’ve wanted to keep her alive, but she had secret intentions of torturing her to death. As soon as he turned his back, her ass belonged to Alessia.

  None of this is real, Cam told herself. She closed her eyes tight and prayed she eventually woke up. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought and I’m still unconscious.

  When she opened her eyes again and saw the 17-year old glowering, she realized none of it was a dream. Jag’s sister looked at Cameron handcuffed to the bed and smiled wickedly. There was a demonic, homicidal look in her dark eyes.

  ***

  Juicy carried her shopping bags across the Beachwood Mall parking lot. Since spending Wayne’s cash was her favorite pastime, she decided to pick out a few pieces at the mall. She was nearly at her car when she heard a female’s voice behind her.

  “You feel good about yourself?”

  Startled, Juicy accidentally dropped her car keys. As a stripper, she was used to bitches coming for her over their men. It wasn’t her fault they chose fun over faithfulness. Juicy just knew a fight was about to pop off in the lot. She turned around, ready to brawl, and met the penetrating stare of an aggrieved wife.

  “You feel good about yourself trying to break up a happy home?” she repeated.

  Juicy tuned her aggression all the way down after recognizing the angry woman. “Tabitha…” The name left her lips in a low, inaudible whisper.

  Wayne’s wife scoffed and shook her head. She had her two children with her. Wayne’s lying ass had told Juicy they were teenagers and practically out of the house, but they looked no older than three and four. The youngest held a colored sponge ball in his hands. They both stared up at Juicy with innocent, wistful eyes that asked, “Why are you taking our daddy away?”

  Juicy felt a tiny shred of guilt—but it disappeared as soon as Tabitha opened her mouth again.

  “And the bitch knows exactly who I am. How ironic?” she said. Tabitha approached Juicy thinking she didn’t know what she looked like, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

  “Look, I ain’t trying to go there with you. And besides, if it were such a happy home, you wouldn’t be standing here wasting your breath talking to me. You’d be with his ass—”

  “I can’t be when there are whores like you eating off my plate!” Tabitha peeped the shopping bags in Juicy’s hands. She knew her husband was the reason why she had them. “Your trashy ass needs to crawl back and stay in whatever gutter he found you in. I’ll be damned if I share my husband with some filthy, tatted up streetwalker. So tell me…how much is it gonna cost to make you disappear?”

  Tabitha reached in her Louis Vuitton purse for her checkbook.

  Juicy looked as if she’d never been so offended in her life. She used to shake her ass nightly for tips, but something about the way Tabitha offered the cash was flat out rude. “Outta respect for your kids being here, I’m not gonna slap your ass.”

  “Stop tearing us apart, dammit!” Tabitha screamed. Her voice quivered with emotion as tears filled her eyes.

  Juicy knew right then that everything Wayne told her was a lie. Tabitha didn’t look like a woman who was close to divorcing. She was desperately in love with her husband and determined to keep her family together. Juicy was nothing more than a trespasser, a sidepiece.

  Juicy quickly grabbed her keys off the ground. She didn’t know what else to say. All she could do was flee in embarrassment. She would check Wayne’s ass later.

  After unlocking her door, Juicy opened it to climb in—but Tabitha slammed it shut.

  “You will never have real love! Bitches like you only get a taste of what that’s like by stepping on another woman’s toes! Your story never ends well, sweetie. You can bet your ass that you gotdamn home wrecker.”

  “Lady, you better back the fuck up off me before your kids witness you get your ass whooped. You don’t want them mothafucking problems now. Trust me.”

  In the midst of Juicy and Tabitha arguing, the youngest accidentally dropped his sponge ball. It rolled several feet away in the parking lot, and he excitedly ran to retrieve it. Unfortunately, he didn’t notice the Yukon Denali coming straight at him.

  SCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRR!

  BOOM!

  “NOOOOOOOOOOO!”

  9

  “I have to fly down to Miami for a day to handle some business. I’m gonna need for you to be on your best behavior,” Jag said.

  Alessia looked at her brother from the sofa with an attitude. Her dark sandy brown hair clung to her face. There was a tiny splash of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She hadn’t changed clothes or showered since she arrived. She showed a complete lack of refinement.

  A putrid odor seeped from her pores, but she’d grown used to her own filth. Her hair was wild, dirty, and desperately needed grooming. Alessia looked, smelled, and acted like a problem child, but Jag was so happy to have her back that he accepted her the way she was. For over a year he had thought she was dead. Alessia could’ve been blind, deaf, and dumb, as long as she was alive and breathing.

  When Jude told him he didn’t kill her, Jag didn’t believe it. He almost didn’t believe she was actually real either until she ran up and hugged him. Now that they were reunited, all hell was going to break loose. Those responsible would eventually pay.

  “Be on my best behavior?” Alessia repeated, skeptically. He was berating her like she was still a child. “As in don’t invite boys over or as in don’t kill your girlfriend?” Sarcasm dripped from her tone. With her tattered clothes and unkempt
hair, she looked like she lived in the damn jungle.

  Jag pulled on a leather Saint Laurent biker jacket. He knew it would take some time for her to adapt to the real world again. “Both,” he said with a serious expression.

  Alessia grimaced. She felt a chill of disapproval in the air. Jag telling her not to kill Cam was like a parent telling a kid not to eat candy. The temptation was beyond inviting.

  “I mean it,” he said, noticing her hesitance. She had that crazy Campioni look in her eyes. She was up to no good.

  “I know you do,” she said in Italian. “I promise I won’t go near the bedroom.” Alessia held her dirty palms up in mock surrender. Cam would’ve lost it if she knew those same hands would be tending to her children while he was gone.

  Jag walked in the bedroom and smiled at Cameron. There was a grim look on her face. She was miserable.

  “Someone else needs their trash taken out, so I gotta split for a day—”

  “Don’t leave me here with her! She does not fuck with me! You can’t see that shit? Please don’t tell me you’re that fucking oblivious,” Cam said, making her opinion known. Her eyes pleaded for him to reconsider. She could look at Alessia and see the hostility. Cam wasn’t stupid. His sister despised her, and he knew that shit. Maybe this was his way of punishing her for trying to run.

  Jag smiled reassuringly. “I talked to her. You’ll be fine.”

  “Please, Jag, no. I don’t want her around my kids—”

  “Stop fucking calling them your gotdamn kids! They’re my fucking kids too!” He paused. “Well, one of ‘em at least.”

  “Jag, I’m begging you—”

  He rudely cut her off since he wasn’t trying to hear it. “See you tomorrow.”

  Jag walked out of the bedroom and past Alessia.

  “I’m outta here.”

  “Arrivederci,” she sang innocently.

  As soon as the front door closed behind him, Alessia wiped the phony smile off her face. She looked at the bedroom door that was currently shielding Cameron from her death. She then heard the sound of his car pull out the driveway.