authors note at bottom

i own nothing i am a pitiful loser with a plot

cammie's pov

I left the great hall. I'm not exploring. I lied to escape my friends and their worries. They have too many concerns when it comes to me. So I lied to them. Yeah I know, lying to them is possibly a bad idea. But trust me, they're used to it. I lie a lot. It's what spies do, lie. We live a lie, all the covers, all the relationships, everything, it's all a lie. We lie for a living. We get paid to lie. And if you're like me, then you're really good at it. I don't enjoy lying, but I can't deny that I have a certain talent for making people see my lies as the truth. I could lie and have Joe Solomon swear it's the truth. I even sometimes convince myself that I'm not lying. At night this happens, I'll lay in bed for hours on end telling myself that everything will be fine. I believe that it will be too. Then I drift off and hours later I wake up drenched in sweat, my friends holding my arms down restraining me from hurting myself, while I thrash around in my dreams. Did I say dreams, well I meant nightmares, I have nightmares of Catherine.

Catherine, the evil little bitch that tortured me for weeks on end. She's cruel. She taught me to kill. She taught me to be like her, and the scary thing is, I think that a part of me, way deep down, is. That part enjoys the kills, seeing people suffer, having the satisfaction of seeing their lifeless body fall to the ground, seeing my knife hitting the target dead center, the perfection of the throw, the sound of the gun, all of it. To be honest, it terrifies me. The Circle may be scary, but the thing is I really am more terrified of a single person then the whole organization. And that person is me.

I scare myself. I'm sure many others are scared of me. I've had my moments, and luckily they don't happen often, since I only have two triggers.

1. You insult my friends, I explode.

2. You call me Cameron, I explode.

Number one it's obvious why I explode. You stick up for your friends. That's the first rule of friendship. You have each other's backs. If you mentally or physically hurt one of my friends, I will hurt you. Badly. Unless it's in PE then that's just the rules, you debilitate your opponent, but still if it is an unnecessary injury, you're dead. Now number two. Why do I hate the name Cameron you ask, well that's the only thing Catherine calls me. If I hear that name, one of two things will happen.

1. I explode

2. I shut down

Sometimes I will full on yell at you, which is terrifying according to my friends, or I will just shut down. My mind wanders to my personal hell, those four weeks that changed my life. I stop functioning when this happens, I curl in on myself and I can't stop shaking and screaming. I lose my memory of these moments later in time, but the way my friends describe them, it must be horrible. I bet it was considering what I see. What I went through. Considering the memories I recall. Torture memories.

*Flashback

Catherine walked in, yay, time to start the torture for today. *thatwassarcasm*

Behind her a guard wheeled a cart filled with Catherine's favorite toys. Knives, whips, scourges, and syringes filled with different colors of liquids. She looked at her torture devices, her eyes gleaming with joy, she looked like a child on Christmas morning looking at the colorful wrapping paper, except the behind all the colors here instead of a barbie doll, simulators of pain. In one shot you would feel like you've been shot or stabbed, something like that. She turned to me then she was twirling her favorite knife in her hand. It was already sheathed in my blood.

"Why hello, Cammie," she greeted, "how are you feeling."

"Oh, I'm doing just great" I said rolling my eyes.

"Well then we'll just have to fix that"she moved forward, her eyes glinting with hate.

She drew the knive across my stomach. Pain rocketed through my body, I kept my mask up. I realized she was carving something into my skin. I looked down. She was tracing the word 'Traitor' as it joined the other lovely words on my stomach and back. She had just carved 'Bitch' in there yesterday. I guess she decided she had finished with the knife, when she pulled away and waved a guard to tie me to the table laying down. Before I knew it a cloth was covering my mouth and water was a flowing stream that cut off my oxygen supply, as easy as scissors cut string. I couldn't help it I squirmed. I screamed as best I could, it came out as strangled cries. After she finished the water boarding, I was still gasping for breath when her face was inches from mine.

"It's time to train my little assassain"she told me. I struggled as the guards dragged me, kicking and screaming, but no they were determined to make me their puppet once again.

end flashback*

I had somehow ended up in the sub levels. I stood by Joe Solomon looking out at the classrooms below.

"Hello, Joey," I drawled, "fancy seeing you here."

He raised an eyebrow.

"What don't like the name? Well as I do recall you were my godfather for 6 years before my parents made me forget" I said raising my own eyebrow. His eyes shone with pride and shock at my explanation of calling him Joey. He took me into his arms, hugging me. I tensed ready for the pain, but none came. I relaxed realizing Joe wasn't going to hurt me.

"He's gone," I cried, "they took me to his grave. They made me stand and watch as they spit on his grave."

"Shhh. It's okay, I'm here for you" He told me, soothingly. I pulled away.

"No, nothing is okay anymore" I said and with that I walked out the door.

okie. so that's it. i updated. :) yay! um comment please and add me as a favorite author/story please? it's fine i wouldn't want to either. so one thing i'm going to MAKE VERY CLEAR. JOE AND CAMMIE ONLY HAVE A FATHER AND DAUGHTER RELATIONSHIP. THEY WILL NEVER EVER HAVE ANY SORT OF ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP. okay? cool pickle. thanks for reading. love ya guys.

your loser

thezqueen