Glaukopis: Well, I'm very much pro-life, so that should at least give you somewhat of a hint. =] I'm really trying to portray Remy in a way that there'll be sympathy and anger. So, I'm glad that's working out for at least some ppl. I'm really not trying to make people pissed at her. She's just overwhelmed.
Little: Exactly. Who can resist Remy? xD
Anonimity: Your name is fun to say out loud. Lol. Glad you're liking things!
Bigblusky: Well...she doesn't exactly have anyone to open up to. Rebecca is kind of the only person she has to turn to.
Meva: Would you rather it Chase's or Joe's? Ha. It's better off belonging to Chase.
Floating: I think it being Chase's baby makes things a bit easier. It would be harder on her if it was Joe's. Chase drama ftw.
...!: Haha. Well, bidnar stands for Because I Don't Need A Reason. -sends candy to cheer up your soul-
Pink: At least my unpredictability is good for something. I was disappointed in her choice too actually. I was caught between making her drop the drugs or going to Rebecca. A friend suggested the latter and I just kinda went w/ it.
Miralinda: Wow. -hugs Remy- Don't be too angry at her. She's going through a lot too. While Cam has Wilson to turn to, Remy doesn't really have anyone other than Rebecca.
Esuedros: Aw. Thank you!
Amazon: Pssh. Only I know the extent of my evilness. If I showed it through writing...no one would read my stuff anymore. Baha. I give you full permission to slap Remy.
JB: So...I couldn't use the "fuck me" line. Lol. But, it will happen eventually. I'm sure they'll have more fights. xD Cam/Chase woulda made very cute kids. Like I said...you're reading too much into it. Don't worry about Batman. He'll have happiness soon!
Winterfell: I love Twitter followers...even if I do annoy them. xD But hey...at least you get to sit in on my conversations w/ Plush.
Charmed: The baby being Chase's will add difficulty, but it won't be as bad as it would if it were Joe's.
Eva: Eventually Remy will learn.
Ilessthree: No hyperventilating! You need to breathe to be able to review. xP
Shelby: Thank you!
A fan: Trust me, I've gotten myself into enough co-writing drama that I can make light at the end of /any/ tunnel. It's a gift.
Lessthan13: Ew. Chadley. -gag- There's a bunch of people talking about it happily on Twitter now too. It def increases Chase-hatred. Srsly.
Ilive: It's nowhere near over. Thanks!
Robert: I think you've mentioned I'm killing you. Have I mentioned I enjoy torturing my readers? Baha.
Enigmatic: -snuggles-
More: Thanks! Eventually, she'll be able to open up to Cameron. Kinda hard right now w/ Cam having her own issues.
S0much: Or she needs to learn how to be a better friend. Bc I can't exactly write her thoughts, I'll just say she does care for Remy. It's not all about sex.
Shan: Not going with a miscarriage. Cameron would be completely devastated.
So...sorry it took so long to write this chapt. It was based off a personal experience, so it was semi-hard and I had to write, stop, write, stop...but it's finished now. Phew! Hopefully the next one will be easier.
Anyway...this chapt was inspired by JBlovessharks making me watch Flourish. Go watch it, if you haven't. JMo is epic. -hearts- It's also based off Snow Patrol's How To Be Dead. So if you wanna know some of Remy's feelings during this chapt, I suggest listening to that.
And, I realized last night who I based Rebecca off of look-wise. She's loosely based off Rebecca Mader (I just realized now they have the same name! Ha. Ironic.). But, yeah, I guess Charlotte off of LOST inspired Rebecca...which I didn't realize until I watched LOST last night.
Obviously, from my oneshots, I've been feeling really fluffy. So, unless that changes, the angst may actually fade for awhile soon.
Cameron's POV:
"I'm fucking serious, Remy! Don't come back until you have your shit together!" Rebecca's shrill voice echoes down the hall, breaking the early morning silence. "If you'd learn to keep your clothes on, you wouldn't have to worry about this!"
"What the fuck, Rebecca?!" Remy yells, her voice laced with rage. "Give me my damn clothes!"
A door down the hall slams and you lean back against the couch, resting your arms behind your head. After a night of crying and no sleep, this is almost music to your ears. Curiosity about why they're fighting doesn't even matter to you. All you care is that Remy isn't getting let off for what she did. Letting your eyes fall shut, you listen as Remy jiggles the doorknob.
"Fuck," she hisses. "Allison!" she yells, knocking. "Could you open the door?"
You crack your eyes open again, staring at the locked door. "Why?" you ask, making no move to get up.
There's a moment of silence. "I'm standing out here in my underwear and it's my apartment," she answers finally in a dangerously low voice. There's another loud knock on the door. "Cameron, open it before I go back to Rebecca's."
You breathe a laugh and shake your head in disbelief, sure that the entire building knows she won't be going back to their landlord's apartment for quite awhile. You slowly get to your feet and walk to the door then peer through the peephole. She's definitely not lying about being left out there in her underwear. "What did you do last night?" you ask, placing your hand on the wall.
"Why are you grilling me with fucking questions?!" she asks, hitting the door once more.
You hit the lock and open the door a crack, placing your foot in front of it so it can't be pushed open more. "What happened to taking a trip next door again?" you ask in an innocent voice, tilting your head to the side. "You forget?"
Remy keeps her arms crossed tightly over the black bra she's wearing, standing stiffly with her legs pressed together. Her hands are clenched into fists, a plastic baggy she's holding just barely visible. "Let me in," she says, narrowing her eyes at you.
You hold your hand out flat. "Give me the drugs," you answer, shaking your head. "Give them to me and then I'll let you come in."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she hisses, trying to push the door open. When she realizes you're not budging, she turns to face you again. "Move."
"Give them to me," you demand, keeping your hand held out. You clench your jaw, unable to help but let the anger that's been bubbling inside of you for weeks out. She hit the final straw. "I have 20/20 on these things," you mutter, your mind jumbled with everything you wish you could say to her. "And things tell me they're in your hand." You reach forward and grab her uncasted hand, yanking it toward you and trying to pry her fingers open to get to the baggy.
"Why don't you just go back to Chase's if you're so against how I do things?" she asks, trying to pull her hand out of your grip.
"I can't go back to Chase's," you snap, shooting her a glare. You clutch her hand with both of yours, one trying to keep her from pulling away and the other trying to get her fingers unclenched.
"No, not anymore you can't," she agrees, shaking her head. "Because you're in deep shit."
"Don't tell me that!" you yell, still trying to get the bag of pills out of her hand. "I already know that. What do I look like?! A fucking moron?" You yank the bag from her hand and tear it open, shaking it and letting the Ecstasy fall to the floor.
"Do you have any idea how much that fucking cost?" she growls, watching as the pills scatter across the floor.
You stomp your foot down on some of them then move on and crush a few more. "I can't hear you because I'm destroying your drugs," you spit, not caring if there's going to need to be some major cleaning done later. Tears begin to sting your eyes and you slam your foot down on the pills, ignoring how she's staring at them in shock. "I should have listened to Chase," you whisper. "I know all about you now."
"You know all about me?" she asks, making hand motions from you to continue. "Well, I know all about you too! What the hell do you know about me?!"
You rub at your eyes and clench your fists, digging your nails into your palms. You don't really even remember what he said, but it had something to do with drugs and women. "I know all about you," you mumble, crossing your arms.
"Great!" she replies with an exaggerated laugh. "I know all about me too!" She throws her hands in the air then slams the door behind her and starts to make her way down the hall.
"Why did you have to go and do that?!" you cry, lifting your head to watch her walk away. "Why did you have to go and sleep with her, Remy?!"
She comes to a halt and spins to face you again, clenching her jaw. She looks exhausted from the comedown from the drugs, her face pale and dark circles under her eyes. "Who are you to tell me who I can and can't sleep with?" she hisses, casting a glance toward the door as if someone is going to start knocking because the two of you are yelling.
"Logica-Logicalistically-Logic…" You try to spit out the word and bite back tears at the same time. "I thought we…" Your voice is softer now and you wrap your arms around yourself, wondering if you had just misunderstood your relationship with Remy.
"What?" she asks coldly, running her fingers through her tangled hair. "You thought we were girlfriends? We had something and obviously it didn't work. You're alone in this now, Cameron."
The word 'alone' triggers something in your head. "Why would you say that?" you whisper, taking a few steps back, walking over the crushed pills again. "Why would you tell me I'm all alone?!" Your feelings are all mixed together and it's impossible to tell whether anger or fear is the leading cause of your distress now.
"Look, Cameron," Remy starts, her voice not quite as strong as you know she means it to be. "I did all I could for you. I-"
Joe pins you to the ground, having dragged you to a wooded area beside the highway. Your clothes are still on, but he's running his fingers around the waist band of your pants, pushing them down centimeter by centimeter.
"Please," you beg, your voice hoarse from screaming and the flu. There were no cars on the road. There was no one to hear you. "Please, let me go." Your entire body is wracked with soft sobs, your shaky movements driving the rocks under you harder against your back. "I'll do anything you want."
"Keep yelling," he insists. "No one is going to save you, Allison. You think you're alone now? Just wait until I'm finished with you."
You cough for a few moments, letting your arms rest limply beside you instead of covering your mouth. Your entire body hurts from your failed attempts at struggling. "Chase," you plead, as if saying his name will make him suddenly appear and save you from Joe. "I don't feel good. I don't feel good. Help!" You start coughing again, turning your head to the side so you can spit on the ground. "I don't feel good. H-help!"
"No one is going to help you, Allison," Joe replies. He sits on your stomach, causing the nausea you feel to intensify. Ignoring your guttural groan, he adjusts himself to a more comfortable position. "You think your boyfriend is going to want you after you make love to me?" he asks, kneeling down so his face is inches away from yours. "Do you think anyone is going to want you? I'm going to make you dirty to them. You might as well get used to me, because I'm going to be the only one who wants you. I'll be the only one who wants to touch you, who wants to have sex with you, who wants to be in a relationship with you. You're all alone, Allison."
"…and I just don't know how to deal with you being pregnant." Remy holds her hands out in front of her, looking desperate. "I'm sorry I slept with her. I'm sorry what I said about Chase. He loves you, Allison."
"He was right," you whisper, her words barely processing. Your lips curl in disgust, mainly for yourself. "Why'd he have to do that?!" You're forced to externally place the blame on Joe, because internally you're blaming yourself and it's too much pain. "It's not fair!" You turn and shove over the table by the door, shattering the lamp. You cry out in anguish and kick at the lampshade.
Remy's eyes widen. "Allison, you're being a bit much," she says, taking a hesitant step toward you. "Please, settle down."
"I'm not being a bit much!" you yell, your voice starting to get hoarse. "I trusted you! I trusted you, Remy! You could have waited until I was gone to move on! I thought you liked me!"
"I love you!" she yells back, throwing her hands in the air. "I took care of you! I brought you home with me! I shot the guy who hurt you! You're not being fair!"
"You're not being fair!" you sob, rocking on your feet. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to provide yourself with comfort. Unable to breathe anymore, you bring your hands up so they're cupping your mouth and nose. "You cheated on me!"
She's silent for a moment, her expression identical to Batman's as he hides in the corner with his tail between his legs. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, tilting her head down. She takes a hesitant step toward you. "Just please calm down before you make yourself sick. The stress isn't good for the baby."
"Why do you care?" you gasp through sobs, taking a step to the side. "You don't even want the baby to live!" You start coughing, choking over your cries. You try to forgive her, for your own sake, but no matter how many times you say I forgive you in your head, there's still a dull ache in your chest. You realize you could have prevented this had you just considered the options for the baby. She would have never gotten upset and run off to Rebecca. Now you're all alone like Joe said you would be. Even though you know you're not thinking logically, you try to convince yourself getting worked up and losing the baby wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. "I don't want a baby," you choke out, furiously shaking your head. "I don't want a baby."
The walls feel like they're closing in and you back yourself against the door, holding your arms out in front of you. You jump as the doorknob presses against your back, terrified of leaving and going home alone. You start shaking with anxiety, unsure of what to do or where to turn. You can feel Remy's fearful gaze piercing right through you and you fight the urge to launch yourself into her arms, though it's getting hard to remember why you're mad at her to begin with.
"Allison, you're scaring me," Remy states, finally closing the distance between you. "Let me help you to the couch." She grabs your arm, not ready for you to crumble to the ground in panic. Trying to catch you, she goes down with you and ends up kneeling beside you. "I'm sorry, okay?" She sounds desperate for you to believe her, probably because she thinks you'll start to relax.
Drawing your legs to your chest, you curl your arms up over your head and try to sink into her embrace. "Make it stop," you plead in a choked voice, nausea beginning to overwhelm your stomach. "I'm going to throw up," you squeak, gasping even harder for breath.
Remy runs her fingers lightly over your arm then gets to her feet.
"Don't leave me alone!" you try to plead, curling one arm tighter over your head. You move your hand down to cover your mouth, suppressing a gag. The tears won't stop falling down your face. Your heaving chest and now stomach make your entire body feel like it's ignited into flames. Getting up to make a rush to the bathroom doesn't even feel possible and you emotionally shrink back into yourself, terrified you're going to shame yourself even more by throwing up on the floor again.
"Here." Remy drops down beside you again and gingerly pries your hand away from your mouth. She carefully holds a plastic tupperware container under your mouth, keeping it steady even as you try to shakily hold it yourself. "I have it," she assures you, managing to hold the bucket with her free hand and get your hair away from your face with the casted one.
You slowly lower your hands and wrap them around your aching stomach, lurching forward slightly as you gag again. Feeling disgusting, you're shocked when she gently pulls you against her, unfazed by your sick.
"Allie, why don't you try to get some water in your stomach so you're not just dry-heaving?" she suggests.
Shaking your head, you push the empty container away with a trembling hand when you're sure you're not going to gag again. "I want to start-start over," you beg in a hoarse voice, slowly beginning to rock yourself.
"What do you want to start over with?" she whispers, placing the container on the floor. You places a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to stop the soothing, repetitive motion.
"Everything," you cry, rocking yourself harder. "I c-can't have you n-now. I can't t-take the Zoloft n-now. I don't w-want a baby." She stops trying to get you to quit rocking and envelopes you in an embrace, trying to soothe you by rocking you herself. "I can pretend you didn't do anything," you mumble, shrinking against her. "I can pretend. I want to-to start ov-over."
"I know," she whispers. Her grip on you loosens again and you feel her slowly inching away. "But you can't."