"Camille!" a booming voice blasted through the house reaching even the farthest corners of the old, rundown building. The front door was so violently thrown open that the sound echoed off the bare walls and the brute force used caused the hinges of the door to screech in protest and Camille wondered how on earth they hadn't been torn from the wooden frame that they had been so poorly screwed into.
He was back.
Camille listened carefully for the sound of his footsteps coming down the hall. She was desperately hoping, for her sake more than his, that he was at least sober. Please let him be sober, she thought. His steps were slow and irregular and she could hear him tripping over the shoes she'd accidentally left in the door way, angry at herself for being so careless Camille silently scolded herself. He was angry and her recklessness had just fuelled his fury. As if to prove her point an abrupt huff of anger escaped from his lips and a feeling of dread enveloped Camille as she heard the distant clatter of what she assumed was glass on the hard wooden floor. So much for being sober. A muffled string of profanities followed the sound. Camille bit her lip anxiously. A second loud crash accompanied by an animalistic growl of outrage and Camille prayed silently for him not to come upstairs, just let him fall asleep on the sofa again, she thought. Just don't come up here, not tonight.
"Camille!" The voice thundered through the house again, sending a wave of shivers flooding down Camille's spine and causing goosebumps to sprout from her arms, "You little slut! Answer me!"
She stayed silent.
Huddled underneath the covers on her bed, she could hear him more clearly now, he was stumbling up the stairs towards her room, his footfalls getting louder and louder as Camille cowered in her room, shaking with fear, waiting for her door to slam open with a-
BANG!
Camille sat up in bed, coated in a glistening layer of sweat and breathing heavily. She tried to get her eyes to adjust to the bright light coming from the door of her bedroom which had been thrust open by her older brother Tyler, who stood there looking down at her expectantly.
"What are you doing still in bed?" He asked her whilst striding across the room to sit on the edge of her bed.
Camille didn't reply, she just looked up at him eyes still hazy with sleep and swimming with terror fresh from her nightmare.
Tyler leaned forward to look at her more closely and his eyes locked with hers. "Are you okay? You don't look so good, Camille. Like you've seen a ghost..." Realisation dawned on his face. "Did you have another bad dream? Was it about him?" Camille nodded and Tyler's face fell. He held his arms out to embrace her and she held on to him tightly.
Tyler wasn't her real brother, they were foster kids which meant that they both came from pretty messed up families. So the two of them had a lot in common. They had always got on well with one another and Tyler was always there to protect loved him just like a real older brother and he felt the same for her.
"I'll leave you to get dressed," he muttered, "todays a big day." And with that he untangled his arms from around her, slowly stood up and left the room without so much as a glance back at her.
Camille felt bad for telling Tyler the truth about her dream, he had always felt guilty that he hadn't been around to save her like he could now, but Camille knew that it wasn't his fault. He hadn't even known she existed and back then he'd had his own issues to deal with. But their relationship was so strong that they always felt responsible for each other. It was as if they had always known each other.
They were the perfect siblings.