AMELIA

As I stand here, watching the empty street, a gush of emotions floods my being. I feel the loneliness, disbelief, and anger, but most of all, the shock grips me like icy claws, freezing me in place. It is as if the ground beneath me has shifted.

It is hard to bring myself to it, but I force my legs into Cam's car. I find his phone, but it is locked. Frustrated, after trying a few passwords but none work, I give up and decide to drive to the station where he is held in a temporary holding cell.

Uff, Cam! If only you had told me everything.

After closing the door and leaving my car parked on the street, I press down on the accelerator. This time, I am fully awake and alert, my heart weighed down by deep sorrow and regret-regrets that gnaw at me, making me wonder if I could have handled things differently.

Now I've wasted everything, and I only know uncertainty for the future that lies ahead.

Arriving at the station, petrified, I call Carl's phone, not knowing what to do.

"Carl," I let out as he picked up after the first call was sent to voicemail, which is understandable given the times are different.

"Amy? Why are you calling me this early morning?" He asks, his voice hoarse. My call must have clearly woken him up. On a normal day, I'd be concerned, but I am panicking right now.

"Carl, I am so done. I messed up." I cry.

How can I help Cam? The other time it was easier, Harper helped, but now I am on my own. And I am all he has.

"Okay, hey, slow down. Talk to me." Carl clears his throat, sounding more awake.

"How-how do you see someone who's arrested? Tell me how?" My voice trails off as I choke on my tears.

"Who's arrested?"

"He-he was arrested." I manage to answer.

"Who? Jake?"

Fuck me!

"Please tell me, Carl." I pull on my hair.

"Okay, Amy, calm down. Where are you at?" He asks. He must have heard the activity in the background, given it was night and was supposed to be quiet, but the police station was never calm. There are papers, phone rings, voices, footsteps, sirens, and a panicked me.

"At the station." I shudder, wiping my eyes.

"Perfect. Then you will see him." He says, giving me hope.

"Really?"

"Yes, don't you know? Just talk to one of the officers, they will walk you through it. That is the easiest." He adds, making it sound uncomplicated, like I thought.

"Yeah!"

"Yeah. No need to worry, alright?" He encourages.

"Okay! Bye."

"Call me anytime," he says, and I nod, unable to speak, even though he can't see me. I hang up, then try accessing anyone I come across-some helpful, some not. When the procedure starts, I show my ID and is ask to wait for the application to be approved.

All I can do now is wait and hope that things get better. Minutes bend to an hour, and no one calls me. Guilt weighs heavily on my shoulders, its burden almost unbearable, and what-ifs torment me, their relentless whispers resounding in the pits of my mind.

I am out of tears; the kind of dread I am left in is beyond what I knew. Anguish clenches at my heart, squeezing it with a torturing grip. While waiting, Cam's phone rings in my hand, and it's someone who could help-an adult, a man who cares greatly for him.

Myles.

Quickly, I slide to accept and bring the device to my ear.

"Hey, son, I want to let you know that there's a meeting in LA this week for the approval of your promo tour starting in February." Hearing his energetic background, probably from the after-party, his proud voice, and the opportunities offered to Cam, more tears poured from my eyes.

What if this arrest ruins things for him? He said he wanted to win to bail out his mother; what if I crushed all that for him?

What have I done?

"Cameron?" Myles concerningly calls again when I sniff, delaying.

"It is Amelia," I snivel.

"Amy, where is Cam? I need to talk to him," he cautiously asks, probably after hearing the sound of my tone.

"I am in the station. The cops arrested him for a lot of things," I blurt.

"What?"

"I don't know what to do. Please come. He's alone," I beg, the air becoming threatening, leaving me to suffocate.

"Goodness. Yes, of course, I will be there," he assures me, and I tell him the address of the police station.

I went back to waiting on the chair I was left in; Carl had called once more, and I had told him I was waiting for approval. It's like fifty minutes after the call that an officer grants me access to see Cam. I undergo the security screening, and then I am escorted through the place to a door, where I am reminded of the fifteen-minute time we have before the door opens, exposing a table and hanging lamp between two chairs, one with Cam occupying it.

At the same time that I am grateful to see him, fear licks at my soul from beneath the surface, and each step I take reminds me of the ache that settled in the pit of my stomach.

How will he react now that he gets to talk to me? He's not even looking at me; he's intensely staring at his bleeding knuckles on the table, seeming tense, a muscle twitching in his clenched jaw.

Should I hug him? What should I do?

The door closes behind us, and I jump a little.

"I didn't know your phone password, but Myles called recently, I told him and he said he's coming," I informed him at first, but even at my voice, he didn't look up. That reminded me that he was aware of who his visitor was.

I guess he just hates me.

"Cam?" I break into tears in my tracks. "You should have told me. If only I knew who Harper is, Cameron, it would never have..." I croak.

He doesn't say anything; he doesn't even react; he plainly ignores.

"Cameron, please," I beg, compelling myself to him, and I lower to my knees beside him, holding his forearm so he can see me, and he does; he brings those gorgeous eyes to me, only this time they are foreign. "I am so sorry, Cam. You know I will never hurt you on purpose."

"I never cheated on you. You've only been the one I wanted," he calmly asserts, and he smirks dryly.

"I know."

"You don't. Just leave, I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to see you. Just go away," he utters, and my heart crushes at that instant.

"You don't mean that."

"You are not the one in my shoes. Just go," he quietly says, but I can see the rage and hatred simmering in his eyes. "Go, Amy, before I hurt you," his eyes closed, his tongue rolling in his mouth. "Fucking go away," he whispers, threatening. It's cold and unforgiving. I let go of him, and just then the door opens.

The time given must have been over. But looking up, I spot Myles and some unfamiliar man.