Sorry

Another week passed. Thanksgiving went by relatively unnoticed, as it did most years with her working through it. Dinner consisted of turkey and stuffing from the hospital cafeteria. She didn't have a case, so she volunteered to take a double in the ER to allow someone with a family to have the day at home. Ray had managed to snag Little Greg once more for the holiday. It was maddening but she didn't have much fight left in her.

Cameron avoided the little pub like the plague. She curbed her drinking, seeing as it was as much to blame for her behavior as anything. She was still completely fucked up and she knew it and didn't see a way past it.

He didn't text her. She knew he wouldn't. He'd made the only effort he was going to make by giving her the mode of communication in the first place. She tried to put it all out of her mind. Put him out of her mind.

'He' may still be a murderous stalker but she was past caring. In some way, she wished he was and would save her from this life since she didn't have what it takes to take that sort of matter into her own hands. Another trait she shared with him.

At least she had Greg today — something to look forward to. Greg was something good she'd done, despite the mistake she'd made while making him, she could never regret him. Early in the morning, she set about locking all the child locks on the doors and cabinets of her apartment. He was into everything now — mobile, curious and determined to explore everything. She had to be sober for it. He was hard to handle even with the sharpest mind.

After a full day that started with playing in the park, followed by lunch, a nap, book reading and building tall block building simple to knock them to the ground, they ate dinner. Well, Cameron ate. Greg mostly used food as a creative art medium with her kitchen table and floor as his canvas. Some of it made it into his mouth, but she was convinced that was an accident.

After dinner she set him loose to run the length of her hallway, again and again, giggling the whole time. The rooms containing things little hands shouldn't pry into were locked. After an hour of cleaning to a soundtrack of hyperactive giggles, they settled in front of the TV and watched three straight episodes of Dora that she'd DVR'd during the week. His head was nodding and bobbing the last ten minutes so she turned the TV off and put him to bed.

The overwhelming silence of her apartment bored into her. She was afraid to watch TV because she didn't want to wake Little Greg, but she was going out of her mind staring at the four walls of her living room. There was consideration of streaming a movie on her laptop using headphones but nothing struck her interest. A voice in the back of her mind plagued her. It had been there since the night she now refers to as 'drunken fuckfest' and in the silence of her lonely room, the voice grew louder and louder.

'You fucked it all up, Allison. You are so fucked up, you've managed to scare off a crazy person who is just as fucked up, maybe more.

'You should tell him you're sorry, at least. If you never hear from him again, you can at least let him know that some part of you is not completely lost.'

With that thought, she headed to her bedroom and got the phone. Flopping on her bed, sitting up on the pillows against the headboard, she crossed her legs and typed the first sober message she's sent to him since before he died. - I'm sorry

She expected nothing in return and received nothing. After 30 minutes of staring at the damned screen, debating on actually dialing the number, but not bothering because she knew he'd never answer, her eyelids grew heavy. She'd not gone to bed at a decent hour in months and tonight everything was catching up with her. A moment later she was asleep, atop the comforter, still in her jeans and red sweater.

She awoke in the middle of the night, her mind still heavy with sleep, to find she'd managed to work her way under the covers and take off her jeans. She was more warm and content than she'd been since the early days of dating Ray. She was asleep again before her mind could think about it more.

As the sun began to peek through the slats of the Venetian blinds that covered the windows in her bedroom, Cameron began to come to consciousness and her body longed to stretch out. As she started to roll over, her ass connected with something. Something deliciously firm. Her mind, still half asleep, told her ass that rubbing against this firm shaft was only logical. Her ass agreed. Only then did she discover her arm was covered by a larger one and her whole body became wholly aware of the heat of another.

Adrenaline kicked in waking her fully with a start. The arm draped over her reacted quickly and before she knew it she was laying on top of the stranger in her bed, his hand over her mouth, his hard cock pressed against her back, and his other arm wrapped around her holding her tightly against him. His left leg snaked up over both hers pinning them as he ground his hardened manhood into her squirming figure.

Her whole body sobbed as the full reality of the situation hit her.

'This is it.

'He's come for me.'