Camp~>

Hi guys! It's good to finally be back! Sorry for my break, it wasn't intentional by any means since it surprised me as well but I guess that's how life is, huh? Anyway, I've missed this story and I've missed you guys so without further ado, here we go!

*TRIGGER WARNING*

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Chapter Track: "Say you won't let go"
~James Arthur
~~~

~Jude~

Goosebumps– wether from holding Kallahan's warm hand or from the eerie silence surrounding the abandoned camp site, I didn't know.

"Damn, it looks like an apocalypse around here," Kallahan mumbled, trudging his leather boots through the dust-covered ground with a wary, frowning visage. I hummed in response as we continued on, walking towards one of the closer cabins; a raggedy cabin with a screen door struggling to hang on with its worn hinges. A damaged, eroded plaque lay discarded on the ground, mostly likely torn from its positioning above the doorway of the cabin by a storm.

Our footsteps clunked noisily the entire way up the creaky, wooden, moss-covered staircase until we stopped in front of the doorway. The outside may have looked apocalyptic, but the inside of this particular cabin looked like it was struck with Thor's very own hammer. Repeatedly.

"What the hell happened here?"

Kallahan voiced my thoughts exactly, minus the profanity. Bunk beds–crushed like sandwiches. Nightstands and dressers–crumbling and splintered. Mirrors and windows–shattered along the floor. The repugnant stench of mildew wafted through the air, assaulting our senses, whilst the autumn breeze made floating dust particles dance in the sunlight and the bedsheets sway mesmerizingly like wispy phantoms.

"Fuck, this is just great, just my shitty luck, huh? We walk God-knows how many fucking miles into the depths of nowhere, only to find some kind of ripoff Walking Dead film site!"

Kallahan's grip on my hand turned fierce and I clenched my mouth shut to keep my hiss of slight pain inside as he seemed to grow angrier and angrier by the second. His veins throbbed and his face started to turn a violent  shade of red as he mumbled profanities to himself under his breath. I hesitantly lifted my free hand and rubbed his shoulder, trying to calm him as best I could and he snapped his head around, glaring at me with emotion akin to hatred. I blanched, retracting my hand quickly and his eyes softened as he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? Let's just go back, I'll let you go and you can rat me out or whatever. I'm tired of running anyways," He groaned, starting to walk down the old staircase again but I planted my feet, making him pause at the tug on our still attached hands.

"Cupcake?"

"No."

"Wait, what?"

"I said– no. We haven't checked all of the cabins yet and even if they're all as crummy as this one, we'll fix it up for you. You're not going back," I stated firmly and he stared at me with amazement, awe, and something close to respect.

"And even if I wanted to turn you in, I couldn't."

"Let me guess, you've fallen in love with your captor in a wonderful display of Stockholm Syndrome," He smirked cockily and I cut my eyes at him, causing him to chuckle.

"If I did decide to turn you in, I'd be in just as much trouble. I'm aiding and abetting a criminal, am I not," I said matter-of-factly before walking towards the next cabin. The outside of the second cabin didn't look much better than the first, except for the plaque that was still hung above the doorway with an unreadable inscription. Forest green weeds and winding vines covered the cabins patio, an overgrown rose bush overtook the side banister whilst poison ivy had made its way around the perimeter.

"Watch your step Cupcake, that shit's a real pain in the ass," Kallahan said, leading me carefully up the steps before we came to the vine covered screen door. I sucked my teeth at the minor inconvenience and as I looked to Kallahan for his reaction, my jaw dropped to see him pull a rather large pocketknife from his pants' pocket with a somewhat feral smile.

"What? You expect me to just walk around with an unloaded gun and not have an actual weapon for defense? I may be a lot of things, and I mean a lot of things, but I'm no fool," He said, winking at the end, and I watched as he sliced through the thick foliage blocking our path before opening the slightly scarred screen door. He bowed, waving his hand towards the now opened door and grinned mischievously, "After you, Your Majesty."

Poshly, I turned my nose up and attempted strutting inside, receiving a chuckle or two from Kallahan as I did so, and paused as I took in the room that seemed trapped in time.

"Guess you were right, huh? This one doesn't seem too bad, a bit girly and pink, but beggars can't be choosers am I right?"

Girly and pink was an understatement. Boy band posters littered the hot pink walls at obscure angles, a salmon pink couch sat in the center of the room on top of a watermelon colored carpet, fluffy throw pillows and magazines depicting fashions from decades ago lined the couch from end to end, and one king-sized bed with pink striped bedsheets sat directly behind the couch, a space of about six feet between the two pieces of furniture. While not very "manly" by Kallahan standards, the room was livable at the least but that wasn't my main concern, no, my main concern was why. Why was it so livable? Why was it still in such good condition when the last room was in shambles? What happened here?

"Maybe the storm just missed this cabin," Kallahan voiced, apparently sharing the same train-of-thought as I, but I shook my head in disagreement.

"No, there's no such thing as a picky storm. Whatever happened here, there's no fathomable way that it was natural," I mumbled more so to myself than Kallahan and let go of his hand to look outside at the other cabins for any visible kind of damage.

As my eyes caught sight of a group of small, circular holes in the windows of the cabin across  the camp, I gasped quietly. Those holes– those perfectly edgeless holes, were all too familiar. Those holes, those exact holes, I used to see daily on the outside of my room in the orphanage. Those holes, manufactured with the most acute of accuracy and the most hardened of hearts.

My heart sunk to my stomach when I noticed Kallahan tentatively reach into the nearby dresser and pull out a full pack of bullets with a curious look,

Those holes, were bullet holes.

"Ka-kal- Kalla-," I stuttered, my grip on the doorway tightening to the point where I could feel small splinters prodding at the tender palm of my hand. My breathing halted in my chest as I remembered the earsplitting screaming I used to hear late at night, the unbearable sounds of rapid gunshots and windows shattering, the terror I felt in my heart as blue and red lights danced on my walls and the obscure, human shadows that stalked along with them in the darkness of my room.

"Cupcake! Cupcake! Damn it, Jude!"

I could hear him in the background, screaming out for me but I couldn't find myself to care, I was fighting for my life it seemed. My breathing became erratic and out of control, my chest squeezed and tightened like a serpent had wound its way around me and refused to let go, my anxiety grew and grew until– snap.

"Jude! Jude! Calm do-"

He was cut off by my scream, no, my howl as I cried out for relief, for comfort. I clawed at my chest, trying to free myself of the fire within, but it was to no avail as the fire began to burn with even more intensity. I felt trapped, imprisoned within the steely confines of my own body. And I wanted out.

"Jude! Fuck," He shouted and soon, I felt as I was falling to the ground below but I was caught at the last minute by gentle hands. I was lowered to the ground but I continued to fight. I screamed and swung my arms wildly, clawing at my nonexistent enemy with a feral fervor akin to that of a cornered wolverine. I fought harder as my wrists were grabbed, becoming pinned behind my head on the wooden floor. I kicked and screamed as a weight fell upon my torso and a gentle hand tried to force me to look into brilliantly verdant eyes, eyes filled with worry and concern. Eyes filled with lies.

"Jude, it's okay! I promise, I'm here and I'm not leaving. Let me help you, please just let me help you! Calm down, breathe in, breathe out," Kallahan coaxed, breathing in and out slowly, urging me to follow his instructions. I hesitantly complied, breathing slowly, deeply inhaling the oxygen rich air around me. The tightness constricting my chest loosened and the burning subsided, my eyes blinked, once, twice, three times; before I was back.

"Hey there Cupcake, glad to have you back," Kallahan whispered, wiping my tear-stained cheeks and I pushed him off of me swiftly, causing him to gasp and groan quietly in pain.

"What the hell-"

"Thank you."

I cut off his profanity as I hugged him tightly, not caring that I was practically in his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him with as much force as I could muster to express my great deal of appreciation. I felt as he hesitantly hugged me back, wrapping his muscled arms around my waist and rubbing my back tenderly.

"Anytime."
~~~

And there we have it, the secret's now out. Our Jude has PTSD; and before you ask; No, it's not set off by guns or even bullets for that matter.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter and if so, drop a comment or two! It would be greatly appreciated!

QOTC: I've recently joined a writing club/started AP Writing at my school and I would like to know if anyone thinks that my writing skill has improved in this chapter, if so, please tell me in the form of a comment! Thanks!

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