Chapter Six

Well they're some sad things known to man

But ain't too much sadder thanThe tears of a clown when there's no one around

Oh yeah, baby baby,

oh yeah baby baby

Now if I appear to be carefree

It's only to camouflage my sadness

And honey to shield my pride I try

To cover this hurt with a show of gladness

But don't let my show convince you

That I've been happy since you

'Cause I need to go, oh I need you so

Look I'm hurt and I want you to know

For others I put on a show ...

(Tears of a Clown~Smokey Robinson)

~Cameron Morgan-Goode~

November 17th, 4:00 AM

Small sheen of light filtered through the attic. The sound of scuffling mice, the dust collecting in the corners, cobwebs stuck to my hair, and that voice.

That horrible voice that gave me nightmares. That voice that haunted me. His sneer before he would slap me.

The lust in his eyes as he looked at me. making me feel exposed, like prey. He looked at me as if he thirsts my blood, that I was his personal drug that would sate him whenever he pleased.

He doesn't realize that it hurts me. All of it.

But he does.

And he enjoys it.

"Cameron, darling," he calls out. He thinks I love him. He thinks we're married. Maybe it was because the first day he found me…he saw the rings on my finger. The rings you gave me, baby.

And I hate him for it. The rings that I keep on my shoelace so he won't take them away. They belong to you and me, hubby. But he doesn't know that. And he never will find out about you.

He might find you too.

And MC.

Oh, God, MC…how is she, baby? I haven't seen her in…so long. How long has it been? I rarely go outside. He keeps me locked up. I don't know the difference between night and day.

And…baby, it's so cold. I feel so cold in the shirt and yoga pants. They're old and grimy…I've worn them for months now. He lets me take a shower every two weeks but…never new clothes. My old clothes was a big shirt and seats…but they got to big. I'm so skinny. Would you recognize me, baby? Would you still love me? Would you still think I'm beautiful?

I remember those lazy days by the lake or in the cabin in the forest my grandparents owned. You used to tell me how beautiful I was. But I never believed you, did I? Now would you finally agree with me? That I'm plain…but I'm not just plain now, am I? I'm…broken.

So broken without you.

I'm so scared. So frail and…God, I need you. I need you so much because I love you, baby. I love you so much it hurts.

There's so much pain…and if he is right at the door to this cold, dirty, attic…there will be more pain.

It's inevitable, Zach.

No matter what he does, no matter where he touches, where he violates me…

I love you.

"Time to go!" he yells. He walks toward me.

He has that look in his eye again, baby. You would have been strong if it were you who was gone. Taken.

You used to say, "I'm a Goode. We can get through anything. We don't give up, and we don't back down to anyone."

I would roll my eyes at you, thinking you were so cocky and full of it.

But, now I realize that you were right.

The day of our wedding…you said, "Now you're a Goode. You know what that means?"

Your smile was so beautiful. I've never met a man as heartbreakingly beautiful as you as I replied, "We'll get through anything, hubby. We won't give up no matter what, and we won't back down. Forever, right?"

"Forever."

Forever, baby.

I cry as he grabs my frail arms. I can't walk. Or maybe I've forgotten. There was no reason to walk very much.

So, he carries me to the van parked out back. It's the first time in months that I've been able to breathe in fresh air. That I've really been able to breathe.

But there's still that pain in my chest.

His arms don't feel safe.

God, baby, I wish his arms were yours. I wish I could lean back and be able to kiss your neck. I want to feel the steady pulse of your heart.

I need it so bad.

I have to close my eyes at the faintest light of the sun peeking out behind the desert terrain.

Desert.

Aerlis County.

Where in Hell is Aerlis?

"Now, listen, darling. You don't make a sound, alright? You stay right here in the van, all nice and quiet while I get some food. If you do…maybe I'll give you extra?" he then looked at me slyly, "And then some."

Damn you.

"Damn you," I say in a hoarse voice. I don't know the last time I talked.

He laughs then and places me in the van.

"Shut up, Cammie, or else you won't deserve food or a shower. You're my wife. You do as I say. Women don't hold power over men, remember?" his voice is brooding. His crazy, brown eyes are filled with dominance, his black hair is greasy. He knows I fear him. He's beaten me enough to know when I'm weak.

I bite back my tongue to defend my gender, but it would be futile anyways.

I glare at him with angry eyes, tears still flowing.

"STOP STARING AT ME LIKE THAT!" he yells and slaps me across my face, "Listen, bitch, you show me no disrespect. That includes you fucking body language."

He pulls the ropes bound around my wrists and ankles tighter until they're digging into my bruised skin. I feel so weak and I know I'm malnourished and dehydrated.

But he doesn't care.

He pulls down a black bag over my head, shielding my eyes and causing my breathing to falter.

I want to touch my boney cheek where his filthy hands abused me. I obviously can't. I cry.

And cry.

He drives in silence.

And I cry.

I cry because I don't know how much longer I can survive this. I don't know how much longer I can keep surviving. I want to believe that one day this will all be over and I will be in your arms again, but I'm running out of options. I'm a trained FBI agent, but it seems that every attempt, every loophole I've found, he's seen. It's as if he knows what my next actions will be.

It scares me how well he knows me.

But I'm not me, am I?

No, I'm not Cameron Morgan-Goode. Agent, wife, daughter, and mother.

No, I'm a victim, a weak, memory to the rest of the world. I feel myself fading. Does that mean you're forgetting me, baby? Have you moved on?

I always knew that you would be the greatest father. I knew you loved our daughter and that you still do. Our greatest creation.

I love you Hubby.

You will always be my Zachy.

I'll always be your Cookie.

But I feel myself giving up.

Would you understand, baby? Would you forgive me for giving up? Goodes aren't supposed to back down, I know this. We had forever and suddenly…it's gone. It's gone and it's all my fucking fault. Why didn't I just stay with my family? Why did I put my passion for work above you, Zach. How could I do that to MC?

Please forgive me.

I still remember the day when Luther thought it was time I gave him my body. He said I owed it to him, he says he saved me from a murderer. He believes he's my hero, when it's really you, babe. He believes our memories-though I don't know how he knows of them-are his and mine.

He left me exposed, so exposed. His filthy hands roamed all over my body as he violated me. He saw the scar from my C-section when giving birth to MC.

He yelled at me. Called me unfaithful. He abused me, asking me who the father is, where the baby is. But I wouldn't tell. Then he continued to violate me, forget about the incident until suddenly he would visit me wherever he had me tied down-an attic, basement, closet-and ask the same questions again.

I shuddered at the memories as we drove. And we drove for what seemed like days but was really only about an hour.

I heard his door slam shut, knocking me into the side of the dark van. I could hear nothing, see nothing, as I heard a ripping noise. There was something sharp in the van, the opposite side he tied me to. But I then realized that the ripping sound came from the ropes that bounded my feet.

Then, my years of training kicked in as I fumbled to find an exit. There were blinds shielding the windows of the van in front, so there was no light streaming in.

My heart pounded wildly in my chest before my bound hands reached a door handle. I thought about trying to find that sharp edge again to cut the ropes at my wrists, but it would take to long and I was limited on time. Plus, the fact that I could accidently injure myself and God knows Luther wouldn't give me the proper supplies to clean a wound.

No, I had to focus on getting out.

The door was locked securely, as I figured. But, this was an old, rusty van. The locks were probably old and banged up, and so were the door hinges. So, if I applied enough pressure, I could probably get the door to bust open.

God, let this work, or else I'm screwed.

Literally.

Since I need to save my energy-what little I have-to run once I escape, I kneel on my shaky knees and get ready to plow my frail body into the side of the rusty metal door.

One.

Two.

Deep breath.

Three.

I bang into the side as I hard as I can, but it doesn't open.

But, I hear the hinges squeak.

I ram the side of the van door again. And again. And again.

In a moment I'm lying on blistering hot, gravel ground. The bag atop my head falls to the floor, making me have to squint in pain from the dawn sun.

I look to my left and see Luther buying a packet of Marlboro at a gas station. He's too far away to have heard me break out.

I look to my right and see a Safeway grocery store.

When the doors open to let a tall, blond man walk into the store, I see a cashier. Someone who could immediately call the police. I stumble to my feet.

I'm practically limping, stumbling on my feet to get to the cashier. It's so close, yet so far.

"HEY!" I hear him. He's sprinting towards me from the gas station, cigarettes forgotten.

I know I won't make it to the cashier on time. This early in the morning there's no one else around. I could try to scream but my voice is hoarse from not using it.

"Help," I cry out but it comes out below a whisper as my voice gives out.

I hear the pounding of his feet behind me. I know if I turn around, I would see murder in his eyes.

But then I see it. It's just beside the door to the Safeway. A payphone booth.

My feet are blistering from the heat of the parking lot. I trip and stumble the rest of the way to the payphone and press the emergency button.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

My voice comes out in a whisper as I try to yell, "I'm Cameron Ann Morgan-Goode! Help-"

"PUT THAT DAMN PHONE DOWN!" he grabs around my waist and tries to pull me away.

The lady from 9-1-1 is shouting something through the phone, but I can't understand it. All I can think about is how I've failed.

I struggle in his grip as he runs back towards the van, throwing me inside.

Oh, God, help me.

Please.

Help me, Zach. I need you so much.

I need to be in your arms, to tell you I love you.

I need to tell you that I'm so sorry.

I need to ask you to forgive me.

I've given up. That was my last chance.

His filthy fist makes contact with my jaw as he closes the van door behind us.

"YOU STUPID BITCH!" he yells, "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING!" SLAP.

Tears mix with blood and one of my swollen eyes is completely shut.

"We're moving again. We can't go back now because of you! No shower or food this week, you whore. Got it? Was that a sign of mistrust? Do you not trust your own husband? Or is this about that fucking baby?"

He pushes me back against the floor of the van, "I guess we'll have to go someplace to rekindle our love, hmm, darling?"

Then I feel his lips on my swollen, dry, bloody ones and I want to puke.

Soon, we're driving. We're driving the fuck away from Aerlis County-wherever the Hell that is.

The next chance I get, I will die.

The wedding was small. We had our families come: Zach's mom, Melissa, my mother, Rachel, Aunt Abby, Macey, and Zach's cousin Jonas who he barely sees along with his girlfriend Liz. Our maid of honor and best man, Bex and Grant, are there.

All of our old friends from the area come to our small wedding ceremony on the dock by the lake. It's late Spring, just after graduation, and there's tall grass surrounding the lake. It's a shimmering blue with small fish leaping up every so often. The sun shines brightly and flowers my aunt arranged are beautiful.

I feel excitement build up in me, I breathe in the warm crisp air. Everything is breathtaking as Grant walks me down the aisle.

But, that is nothing compared to the man I dance with now, at our reception by the lake. He holds me securely to him, my bare feet on top of his so I don't stumble through our first dance as husband and wife.

My dress is elegant but simple. It's strapless and floor length, running smoothly over my sunkissed skin. I have a white magnolia flower in my hair from where my husband plucked it from the flower arrangements.

My husband. My Zach. As always, he is breathtaking, but in the fourteen years I've known him, I've never seen him so heartbreakingly beautiful. I've never seen anyone so heartbreakingly beautiful.

At the ceremony he wore a black suit, his dark brown hair is disheveled and his soul green eyes convey so much love as we recite our vows. Now, his suit jacket has been disregarded, his white dress shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, and his black dress pants are rolled up to his knees from when he dragged me into the shallow water of the lake earlier.

Do I have to say how yummy that is?

We splashed at each other, forgetting about the small audience we had, snapping pictures away. We were so lost in each other, admiring one another as he held me close. We watched the sunset, knee-high in lake water, sharing a few chaste kisses and a few not-so-chaste kisses.

Now, there are Christmas lights handing around us, circling the tent that we rented for the wedding reception. We danced slowly with each other, rocking back and forth as I stood on his bare feet. I lay my head against his chest as I play with the hair at the nape of his neck. His grip on my waist tightens.

"I love you, Hubby."

"Mmm, love you more, wifey," he chuckles.

'I want to know what Love is' by Foreigner comes on and we both laugh, remembering our karaoke days when we were snowed in at school.

"I guess this is our song, huh?" I giggle and blush as he kisses my nose, his hair falling over his eyes.

"It's not a bad choice. Besides, you show me what love is. I've just never had heartache and pain," he smiles sheepishly.

I throw my head back and laugh, "You're so corny, but I agree. It's good we met each other so early, huh?"

"Mhmm, plus, how often does a guy get to say his wife let them have an 80's song by a soul singing white guy as their song? Your one in a billion, baby," he says, kissing my forehead as we continue to rock back and forth.

"Zach?"

"Hmm?" he looks down at me, his green eyes shining brilliantly.

"Kiss me," I whisper and his lips crash to mine.

I don't know how long we stand there under the clear, see through tent, kissing with the white twinkling Christmas around us.

He's all I can focus on.

As I pull away I whisper against his lips, "You're all mine now, Hubby."

"I've always been yours. Always will be," he says kissing the ring on my left hand, look at the engraving that reads 'Forever yours, my sweet'.

"I didn't think it was very romantic to put Cookie so I just put 'sweet'," Zach smirks and I feel myself melting on the dance floor. I want him so bad.

"It doesn't matter what you put, I'd love it either way. I'd love you anyways," I smile slyly. "I'm just glad you didn't put 'All my friends know the Low Rider."

We laugh at the That 70's show reference.

"I would never!" Zach fake gasps and I slap him playfully, rolling my eyes.

"I need to show you something," he says suddenly and turns us around so that I'm still standing on his feet, but my back is against his chest and we're facing away from the party.

"You see Mrs. Cope's house?" Zach asks.

"Mhmm, a lot of good memories there, huh?" I ask with a slight blush remembering our first kiss.

"Exactly…" he says and I look back at him confused.

"What about it?" I ask.

"In a couple of years, when Mrs. Cope moves to live with her daughter and grandkids, she's giving us the house, all paid off," he says kissing the spot just under my jaw that he knows makes me weak at the knees. And by that news I'm already challenging my klutziness.

"Ommygod, how-? What?" I ask turning to him with wide eyes.

He grins like a know-it-all and says, "She remembers that time in the seventh grade. Before you woke up that night, she said that if we ever grew to love each other and wanted to start a family, she would give us a wedding gift worthwhile. We finalized the deal a few weeks ago."

"Wow…" I shake my head, not knowing what to say, "That's amazing…this is amazing…you want to start a family with me?" I ask, biting my bottom lip and scrunching my nose-a bad habit.

He takes my bottom lip from under my teeth and kisses me.

"God, yes, Cammie. Maybe not until after we're done with college, but I can't imagine anything I want more," he said truthfully and I feel like I've fallen for him a little bit more; if possible.

"How many kids?" I ask slyly.

"maybe three…or four…or five," he said with a grin.

I suddenly felt lightheaded.

"We've got some work ahead of us, huh?" I ask coyly.

He grins back mischievously, his hands grabbing my backside.

I squeal in surprise as he laughs and kisses me with a new passion.

"We better get started." He says as we head for the limo and off to our honeymoon.

I'm sorry, Zach, I think before the loss of blood gets to me and I fall unconscious.

A.N. Thanks for all your support! This is my second chapter this week! Consider it a birthday present...even though today is my birthday...but your REVIEWS would be lovely birthday presents, not to mention it would help me write faster!