Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, or anything to do with it, however the OC's are all my own. The concept of Jasper being the 'God of War' is something that I've read in a few fics, but I don't know where it originates, so I'm sorry for not giving credit where credit's due! Plus, I have no idea what Louisianna, or Wisconsin are like - I'm from England, so please, forgive any mistakes. Have a great day, and I love you guys!
Minor drug use, and under-age drinking in this chapter. Trigger warnings, reference to rape, and drug addiction.
Camilla POV
October 2020
Madison, Wisconsin
"Cam! It's gettin' late, Cher," Clyde whispered, his hand shaking my shoulder, lightly, drawing me out of my light slumber with a quiet whine, low in the back of my throat, and I rolled away from his offending, cool touch. He was disturbing my sleep, he was lucky I didn't bite his fingers off, the little shit. Groaning, more to myself than anyone else, I replied, in a gruff tone, "Mph-I'm up, Cly, I'm up," while I rolled off onto my side, and sat up on the bench-chair, and pushed my sunglasses into my hair. After a moment, I asked, my eyes squinting as I glanced up at my brother's broad silhouette, "What's the time?"
Mercy, I sounded like a guy. I needed something to drink, like damn. My speakers had long stopped filtering out the soft, sweet songs that serenaded me into a quiet lull of sleep, and I grabbed them into my hands, and slipped my feet back into my cold sandals. Clyde shrugged, then glanced at his watch, and said, "Nearly seven, cher. I wanted you to have some time to yourself. You looked like you needed it, honestly."
Smiling, lethargically, I answered, stretching my arms over my head, feeling the joints click in response, "Thanks, bro, I wouldn't have been able to deal if I didn't get some 'me' time."
He laughed, gruffly, and opened the door, leading into the kitchen, and walked inside. The rush of warm that greeted me was a welcomed friend, and he said, evenly, "We can leave in a bit if you like."
He nudged me up the stairs, following behind me, quickly. He slipped into his bedroom, relaxing, while I dressed for the party. Clyde's hair had been a little wet, some of the droplets flicking onto my face, as he leant over me when he tried to wake me up beforehand, meaning he had showered before he came outside, for which I was glad. I needed some time to get ready. He was dressed in a tight fitting, white, short-sleeved tee, and a pair of snug, low-hanging jeans, which I guess was attractive.. In a way? Maybe? I just didn't know - Cly was my brother, and that just was weird to me. On his feet were a crisp, clean white pair of Nike sneakers, and his leather jacket draped over his shoulders, completing the entire ensemble. After quickly rolling on some deodorant, I slipped into the bathroom and brushed my teeth, vigorously, and washed away the sleep from my nap, and went about straightening my hair.
Now this was going to take a while.
Almost three quarters of an hour later, I had my hair tucked over my left shoulder, in a pretty fish tail plait, the braid beginning by the tip of my right ear, and ended brushing my lowest rib, the hair around the crown of my head slightly back-combed and full of volume. My hair was far longer when it was straightened, instead of when it was curly - I rarely ran a hot comb through it, simply because it wasted too much time. After rubbing syrup-scented serum through the plait, rubbing it into my scalp and around the crown of my head, I tied a black elastic band around the end, securing it in place, and went about slipping into my clothes for the party.
Swiftly, I threw open the window; the smell of burning hair wafting out of my bedroom, taking the unnecessary heat with it, and I slipped into my tight, bodycon, short sleeved, black dress, with peek-a-boo diamond cut outs on the side and a sweetheart neckline. Rubbing vanilla-scented lotion onto the skin of my arms and legs, I slipped a pair of nude, four-inch heels onto my feet, and went about completing the look, by doing my makeup. Usually, I hated this kind of thing, because it got in the way - I always rubbed my eyes, when I had eyeliner on, and ended up with gross, puffy panda eyes. I chafed my lids with a mix of hoary-and-black, created a smoky, mischievous guise, that made my grey eyes spark with naughtiness and coating my lips was a thin layer of plum lipstick, my cupids bow distinct against the dark red hue. Rubbing tinted moisturiser onto my face, I waited until it dried, and brushed some bronzer onto my cheeks, diagonally, creating my face more of an angular, sharper aesthetic. Looking in the mirror, I felt as though I was channelling something of a enigmatic girl-next-door, and I found that I really liked it.
Smiling at myself, slightly, my squared teeth glinting, brightly, against the dusky colour painting my lips, and as I glanced at the clock, I saw that it was 8:57pm, and winced, minutely. I picked up my phone, finding that Alice had called me three times already, probably trying to get through to me to tell me to hurry the fuck up and get to her house, and as I walked down the stairs, after spraying myself with a light misting of floral perfume, I could hear Clyde pleading with his pixie princess over the phone.
"I cant make her hurry up. You know how she is. She'll be down soon, I promise - we'll be there in about twenty, I promise."
Chuckling into the back of my hand, I saw him quirk his neck towards me, as if sensing the noise, his eyes widened fractionally, and said, to Alice, bitingly, "She's ready.."
And hung up the phone, after Ali shouted something that sounded particularly harsh, and breathed, "Wow.. You look.. Good, Cher."
My ears heated up at the half-assed compliment, and I felt my cheeks flush as I thanked him, then as he reached out for me, tentatively, I noticed that his face was contorted, uncomfortably. I frowned at my brother's discomfort, and I asked, nervously, "What's wrong, Clyde?"
Chewing on his lip, anxiously, he replied, rubbing his lower arm, clearly discomforted, "Could.. Could you, maybe, put on a jacket? It looks a little.. Short."
Chucking, quietly, to myself, I pushed his shoulder, and said, reaching for my own form-fitting leather jacket, "Fine. It looks a little cold anyway. But we're gonna be late.. Well, later, I guess."
His eyes widened, and grabbed my hand, pulling me out of the house, barely giving me enough time to switch off the living room light, and slid me into the car.
-0-
We heard the pounding music from nearly all the way down the pathway that led to the Cullen's mansion. There were red cups filled with suspicious looking liquid, and familiar faces were red and splotchy, eyes blood-shot and red-rimmed. I could smell weed, somewhere. I heard the bottle of vodka swish in the black clutch that was in my lap, and I smirked at the disapproving Clyde, who said nothing, but his annoyance was stark in the air.
He didn't like me drinking. Especially not because of how it ended last time.
He pulled into a spare space, helping me out of the car, with a gentlemanly smile on his face, and walked me into the house, nudging past the sweaty, gyrating, giddy class of 2020. The music was pumping, making my body move of its own accord, barely giving me time to step through the front door before I was swarmed with compliments about my outfit.
"You look amazing!"
"Oh my god, you're so pretty!"
And my own personal favourite, "Shit.. I didn't know you had such nice tits."
How classy.
All of a sudden, I heard a high-pitch squeal, and before I even turned my head, I could tell it was our pint-sized princess, followed by the sloppy, wet sounds of feverish, passionate kissing. I turned around, on my heel, and saw an adorable, pixie Tinkerbelle, adorning a pretty, frayed dress covered with chiffon made up of different nuances of pale and dark greens mixed in with soft browns, with a thin vine-like headband across her forehead, weaving through her locks, and tucked behind her ears, accosting my brother's mouth with her own, as if her life literally depended on it.
Gross.
"You look great, babe," he sighed against her lips, hooking his hands holding her up, just under her butt, and… Let me just get out of here, because I didn't need to puke on her pristine floor.
To keep the damages to their home at a minimum, they, as a collective, had moved the televisions from the living room and the gaming area, probably upstairs, as there were people making out, everywhere. On the floor, on the couches, on the stairs, in the garden, in the kitchen, against the walls. Everywhere. It was like they just.. Couldn't stop themselves.
Girls with boys.
Boys with boys.
Girls with girls.
It was exasperating! Because God damn, could somebody kiss me? I wanted to kiss someone.. Well, more specifically, a curly-haired, blonde Southern gentlemen, but that doesn't matter, does it? Because he's perfect yet completely unattainable.
Out of the blue, I felt a clammy hand grasp my elbow, lightly, and I turned around, my eyes wide and frightened, if only for a moment, before I saw Danny's pretty eyes - they glittered with recognition, but, also, they seemed a little glassy and his movements lethargic and sluggish. He was as high as a motherfuckin' kite, and I was living for it.
"You alright, Cammy?" he shouted in my ear, over the electro-funk sounds resounding through the room, pouring out of the stereo surround-sound speakers scattered around the rooms, and I chuckled, the scent of cheap booze permeating the air around us. There was something else; something familiar, something bitter yet distinctly Oh yeah.. He was high.
"I'm good, Danny," I yelled back, stepping forward into his arms, to give him a warm hug, and said, "You're a little.. Giddy, aren't you?"
He blushed, and replied, shyly, "I'm just hav'n fun.. Noth'n too bad, right?"
Grasping his bicep, I said, "Dance with me, big boy," and pulled him to the pseudo-dance floor, his hands making their way around my waistline, and our chests pressed together, tightly, barely giving us space to breathe, let alone do anything else but just.. Groove to the music. We were foolin', having a grand old time, for maybe an hour, before he asked me, "You want some?"
I knew what he meant.
And I couldn't help but nod, eagerly. I wanted to forget. I needed to forget. And this was the best way that I could. Even if it only were for a few hours.
"Lead the way."
-0-
"Guys, this is Cam," he introduced, "Cammy, this is Liam," he pointed at a very obviously intoxicated, sleek-haired blond with flushing cheeks, "Josh," an equally inebriated brunet, with bloodshot, glassy eyes, and then finished, "And Felicia," a tall, strawberry blonde, a liana tattoo wrapped around her upper arm, from her wrist to her elbow, all detailed and pretty to look at, with a blunt in between her long, pale fingers, smoke swirling from her sharply angled nostrils, and a quirk in her brow.
"Who's the chick, Dan?," she asked, with a lazy roll of her hazel-coloured eyes and a smirk gracing her sleek rouge lips, "Your girl?"
We both chuckled, a little awkwardly at first, then he replied, indignantly, "Nah, Fe, she's just a really chill friend. She wanted to try some.. Could you play nice and share?"
She sized me up, momentarily, before handing me the roll-up in her hand, and I took it, without thought, inhaling the crisp, sweet smoke, and feeling the effects immediately. My vision swam, but I kept my cool - I couldn't embarrass myself in front of these people, and especially not around Danny. I would die on the spot. We were in the forestry around the Cullen house, far enough so we were away from the rest of the party, but close enough so the music was still heard.
Inhale.
Take it in.
Enjoy yourself.
Loosen up.
I hadn't so much as touched a blunt in nearly two years, my relationship with Paul ending any kind of access to the drug, and Clyde would break my neck if he ever so much as thought I was fuckin' with this kind of stuff again, but I don't care. Not right now anyway. My bones felt warm, my skin blushing pink, my eyes red and vision blurry. My head rushed, but in a good way, you know. The cold air didn't bother me, but Danny still shrugged his jacket over my shoulders, baring the cold himself, so I wouldn't have to.
He was so nice to me.
What a cool guy.
Not cool, like, cold.
Cool, like, awesome.
And I wanted to be like him.
He was liked, I wanted to be liked. People didn't really like me. I wasn't likeable. Sometimes I wasn't the type to mingle with the masses, and it was a wonder why I even survived the last two months.
"Hey.." Josh asked, his voice echoing through my mind, "Is she alright?"
Blinking, sluggishly, up at him, I replied, "M'I'm good.. Jus' headache-y, I think," and Danny grasped my hand, helping me up, even though my legs were a little shaky. He nudged me against the tree trunk, his hands on either side of my face, his eyes having cleared while he sobered up, and he said, "Cam. Are you sure you're alright?"
Of course I was fine, couldn't he see I was happy bein' here?
"I'm good, Danny, I promise," I slurred, and he scoffed, playfully, reaching for my clutch, the bottle of vodka now-empty and warming our systems.
"This is great!" I yelled, my voice echoing through the trees, as we walked back to the party, Danny's arm draped over my shoulders, keeping me steady and upright. We were each other's rock, right about now. I took my clutch from his hands, and took out some sweet-scented aerosol, and sprayed myself, and my fingers, knowing all of the tricks of the trade, and he laughed, letting me collect myself. His friends were following behind us, making a whole Hell of a lot of noise, whooping and hollering, dancing and grinding on one another, making an entire fool of themselves, but not really caring.
"Your friends are fun," I commented, my teeth chattering against my will as the cold sending a chill through my body.
"Yeah.. I like them.. And they like you, you know," he said, bumping his shoulder with mine, and helped me up the stairs, making sure people stayed out of my way.
I tried my hardest to appear completely sober, however once I bumped into Peter; dressed as some form of a sexy cowboy, a pair of worn boots on his feet with snug-fitting jeans tucked into them, and thick belt around his waist, discernible to the eye, as his button up allowed visibility, as well as being rolled up to his elbows, conveying his muscular forearms, and he turned to me, probably to hug me, or somethin', and he froze, I knew I was caught out. He growled at Danny, his expression turning from subdued friendliness to murderous in 0.02 seconds, and I felt Danny flinch at the intensity of it.
"You got her high?" he spat, angry, yet his voice chillingly calm at the same time, and I nudged between them both, pushing Danny away from us both, and said, "Go.. I'll be fine, Dan, jus' go."
His eyes slanted, fractionally, questioning me, and I replied with my own pointed stare, complete with the added sarcasm, and he got the point.
"I'll see you in a bit, Cam," he said, quietly, and he swept out of the area with Peter practically vibrating with carefully controlled anger by my side.
He pulled me into the spacious cloakroom, a few people making out in here too, and he ordered, "Out."
Obviously, they did as he said. I mean, I would, too, if I weren't the focus of his annoyance. The atmosphere in the room was tight and tense, my stomach turning slightly, my knees still shaking from the cold outside. He was the first to speak, and when he did, he just looked.. Sad, I guess.
"So you smoke, too?"
Blinking up at him, with doe-like, glassy eyes, with no apologies, half-assed excuses or pathetic reasons in my arsenal. I didn't have anything else to say. What could I say? Any apology would be a lie - I wasn't sorry, but I wouldn't exactly say I was proud of it. I just needed some kind of a release, and this seemed like the safest option. I wasn't hurting anybody. He grabbed my hand, his own fingers significantly cooler than the air outside, and said, his voice quiet, cold and hard but more than anything else, he just sounded disappointed, "Sugar.. I struggled wit' this kinda thing for a very, very long time, an' I wouldn't wanna put that on nobody.. Please, sugar," he pleaded, his eyes appearing considerably older and he seemed more tired than I had ever seen them beforehand, "Don't do this to yourself."
"Its nothin' serious, Petey," I shrugged, sluggishly, with a ditzy smile stretched across my face, "It was jus' somethin' to pass the time, I'm fine."
He scoffed, the noise was poison to my ears, and I visibly flinchd as he said, sharply, "Mhmm.. That's what I said. Jus'.." he sighed, "Sugar, jus' think about it next time. You're staying here tonight, right?"
Nodding, biting on my bottom lip, he sat down on the circular cushioned pods, in the room, and grasped my hand in his, tugging me to his side, and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. He said, solemnly, then glanced away, his jaw thrumming in that way that made my stomach tighten, in discomfort, "I don't wanna make you feel.. Like you gotta talk 'bout it, but.. Sugar,.. Dang it, I know what happened to you wit' your ex."
I froze immediately, feeling my stomach drop to my toes, and immediately pulled away, as if he had jabbed me straight in the throat with a fiery blade. My stomach clenched, and I felt nausea accost my being, and I stuttered, pathetically, "W-What? Did Charlotte tell you?"
I had never felt so betrayed in my entire life. The glassy edge the drugs and alcohol had swept over my vision started to ebb away, being changed into tears that just wouldn't fall.
"No, sugar," he sighed, "She wouldn't talk to me 'bout it, but.. I overheard you cryin', and I was gonna come in an' ask if you were okay, an'.. Well, I was bein' a little nosey, and I overheard. I didn't wanna make you feel uncomfortable, so I didn't say anythin' ta anyone. None of the guys, they don't know, I swear."
The sincerity in his eyes floored me, and I couldn't help but believe in him. Peter had shown me nothing but kindness in the two months I was here, so why would I distrust him now?
Playing with my hands, my newly painted plum nails scratching against my wrist, nervously, I asked, vulnerably, "Do.. Do you promise not to tell?"
He bumped our foreheads together, my eyes closed in response, and I melted into his cool embrace. I didn't see his sad smile, as he whispered, quietly, "I promise, sugar. I promise."
There you go, Peter told her he knows, and now she knows he knows, and we all know. Either way, I hope you liked this, kids, and I will update as soon as possible. I love you guys, have a wonderful day!