Cameron 10 Things I Hate Novels & Stories

Camelia said, standing in front of Cameron and I “The camps and I never get along,” I said as we continued our way "Really, why is this?" Cameron asked I stuttered a little as I recalled my disgusting memories of the camp, when I was ten years old, the room I slept in was burnt down by idiots, and when I was twelve I was standing on a cliff and I fell from a height of 15 meters and it was the curse that pushed me, and you don't even wonder how I am on Alive now because I can't tell you, my God I hate camps so much.... 14

“I saw his comment under your post. The ‘wow’ one.” “Oh,” I said. “Yeah. Classic big-brother energy.” “He’s not my real brother.” I nodded. “Still. That kind of thing messes with your head.” Cameron shrugged. “I’m tired of hiding parts of myself to make other people comfortable. I want to be mad about the things that matter. Not about people knowing who I care about.” I stared at him. “Okay. That was hot.” He side-eyed me. “I’m trying to be vulnerable here.”

I manically laughed, "And you, how the Hell do you fit into all of this, Cameron?" "You know I looked up to Zeus, and you couldn't have cared that you tried to kill him. Take him away from people who loved him like my mother and me." "Was mother a love-crazed bitch-" Before I could finish, a hard slam came across my cheek, which I held, wincing from the pain. "Don't ever call my mother names ever again, that's your first warning," Cameron said. The cruelty in his tone, the coldness. "Zeus did a number on you," I retorted.

I stood perfectly still, my spine straight, my body humming with ancient, unbridled violence. I didn't need fur or fangs to end them. I just needed them to cross the line. Cameron stood at the front of the pack, his handsome face warped by an ugly, desperate rage. The silver-tipped spear in his hand trembled, betraying the primal fear clawing at his insides. But his ego was a poison he couldn't stop drinking. He couldn't accept what I was. He couldn't accept that the girl he had abused for ten years was a god walking among dogs.

Ethan on the phone late at hours talking in a low and fuming voice because he thought that I could not hear him. "I made choices," he says. "Hard ones. Dangerous ones. I don't regret them." The tears don't stop. They soak the blanket. I can hardly hold the phone and my hands shake. Liam raises his hand, making an inquiry. I nod, barely. He lays hold on my wrist and brings me down, his thumb resting against my pulse. There is something else you should know, Ethan says, I need you to know. Something I never told you I was afraid you would hate me, because of it. I open my eyes.