XX

S a t u r d a y, 13/4/19

Dear Diary,

Almost immediately, I rushed back into my room and picked up my phone.

BBRRIINNGG. BBRRIINNGG.

The line was picked up on the other end and a deep, gravelly voice queried, "Hello?"

"Hi," I faltered. "Um...this is Jo Marsden. I'm Spencer's friend. W-who is this?"

"Oh. Right. This is Mr Waldesh. I'm Spencer's father."

I let out a lengthy sigh of relief. "Oh. Of course. I - I'm sorry. Um...can I speak to Spencer, please?"

"Sure. I'll put her on. One second."

A few moments of static later and Spencer's apprehensive tone sounded through the phone, "Jo? Is something wrong?"

"Yes," I returned. "Very. What do you know about the scars all over Camden's back?"

I heard a slight gasp escape Spencer before she whispered, "I can't do this. Not over the phone. I'll meet up with you tomorrow and tell you everything I know."

"Your story better be good," I snapped. "If Camden's being abused..."

"Shhh!" she yelled down the line. "I - I'll tell you, okay? Just not right now. Not here."

I huffed in annoyance and hung up on her before tossing my phone onto my bed. Hesitating, I gazed down at it, recalling the words of my grandparents back in Australia.

"Remember that if anything goes wrong or if you want to come back home, just call us. We'll come straight away."

If it wasn't for Spencer and Camden, I would've done it a long time ago.

But I couldn't abandon them.

Not now.

Not when a crazy-ass Russian lady was trying to steal my father's money!

I tossed and turned restlessly all night long and was up with the sun at five in the morning. Trying to ease my troubled mind, I jogged up and down the beach out back of the house, waiting impatiently for Spencer to call and name a place that we could meet up at.

Finally, as the clock ticked over seven thirty, I felt my phone vibrate from my back pocket. Hurriedly, I retrieved it and took a quick glance at the text message that had popped up on my home-screen.

S p e n c e r: At the diner down the road from yours. Five mins.

As fast as my legs could possibly carry me, I rushed inside like a whirlwind on a mission. Grabbing a light cardigan and a pair of thongs, I hastened back outside and sped-walked all the way to the diner.

Pushing my way through a jingle of bells and a rotating glass door, I spotted Spencer nervously pacing the floor a few metres away.

"Spence!" I exclaimed upon sighting her.

Jumping in surprise, she spun around to face me before letting out a shaky laugh. "Oh. Right. Ha. I didn't see you there."

"What's going on?" I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at her.

"Listen," Spencer seized my arm in a vice-like grip and drew me aside anxiously. "I-I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. It's just that Camden wanted me to keep it a secret. He - he was afraid...for his sister's safety..."

"What are you talking about?" I crinkled my brow in confusion.

"His Dad..." Spencer lowered her voice. "He - he was never the same after - you know - his mum's passing. He - er - he took his anger out on his kids. Camden took the brunt of it so Daisy wouldn't."

I staggered back in disbelief. "Those scars...Mr Foley did that? He beat his own son?"

Spencer nodded sadly. "Yup."

Tears sprung into my eyes. Guilt pricked my heart. Disbelief, enragement and horror swarmed their way into my mind.

Why would anyone do that to their own kid?

Spencer tried to console me but I would have none of it. After mumbling a goodbye, I pushed myself away from her and stormed back down the road towards my house.

I was so angry I felt like punching Mr Foley out and dumping his unconscious body into the ocean.

I was so angry I ended up crying in my room for an hour.

I was so angry because I found out who had put those scars on Camden's back.

And I felt sick to the stomach.

Eventually, I wiped my teary eyes, glared at the new maid and stalked back outside, my steps lengthening with determination and purpose.

I found myself in front of the surf shop and, unlike the last time I had paid an uncalled visit, I glanced down at the sign hanging in the door to see if they were closed.

They were.

My heart sank in defeat but I decided to knock anyway. To my surprise, I saw a flash of movement from within and heard a slight scuffling noise. A few moments later and the door had opened to reveal Camden, his thick hair ruffled up into haystack style and his arms in the process of pulling a white t-shirt over his head.

Upon seeing me, though, he stopped. "W-what do you want?" he demanded. This time, his voice was not a growling, hot mess like before; instead, it was a broken, quivering statement, laced with exhaustion and pain.

"Camden! I'm so sorry!" I blurted. "I - I know you don't want me to know about any of this, but I do...I know about your mum and I know what your father's been doing to you and I'm so so sorry. No kid deserves the crap you've gone through. I - I came here to apologise, you know, for being a little, selfish, stuck-up bitch. I - I didn't realise what was happening with you and I kept lying to you and being snobbish but I promise it'll never happen again and I..."

"Jo!" Camden stopped me mid-sentence by waving a hand in front of my face. "Jo..." his voice softened as his dark, caramel eyes bore into mine. "I know that you know. Spencer rang me and explained everything. I - I think I owe you an apology too...another one."

I smiled. "It's okay, Cam. You don't need to say anything. I'm just glad you're not mad at me." Without thinking, I leaned forward and enveloped him in a big hug.

The moment I made contact with him, though, I could feel all the muscles in his back and torso stiffen from surprise. But, a few seconds later, he relaxed and wrapped both scrawny arms around me in return.

I wished that that moment could've lasted forever.

But alas.

It was not to be.

I burst into the house via the back door ten minutes later, whistling loudly to myself. Happy with how things had turned out, I did a little jump-and-skip move on my way over to the stairs.

Then, I froze.

Dad's office door was open!

What?

Slowly, I walked over and peered inside, only to see a startling sight!

Andrea, armed with a wrench and a screw-driver, was carving away at the thick lock on Dad's safe!

"What in the world of fries?" I yelped, my eyes almost bulging out of my head. "What the hell are you doing, Sabri...oh...I mean, Andrea?"

She paused, glancing me up and down. Then, she slowly inclined her head to one side and that's when it happened.

Something hard and brittle smacked into the back of my skull like a brick.

And everything went black.

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