Home with The Alpha

Camille Thomas hadn’t had anything to hang on to or convince her not to leave. In fact, at that point in her life it seemed everything in her spirit to everything around her pushed for it. As if telling her it was time to grow. It started with her finally snapping on her gropey regular at the diner, followed by losing it on her boss. It was a late evening Friday, and with the usual crowd, the whispers were loud. “Why she do that!?” a woman whispered to her man as another in a booth with his homies guffawed, “Man that was cold, she ain’t have to do ole g like that.” Which is what grabbed her manager’s attention from the back. “Shawn-.” Interrupting by hollering over her, Mr. James gave the fat man with a ring of hair to hide his ball spot one half of the story and it was easily deemed the only one important. Which wasn’t a shock considering. From shorting her on hours to looking the other way when someone was an ass to them, Shawn sucked. The prick had the nerve to see the old bastard grab her ass and didn’t kick him out. Instead, he was grabbing her arm like she was the problem and demanding she apologize to Mr. James. After slapping his teeth out into his soup, he’d been so embarrassed and outraged, he’d gone and snitched. Which left Camille in the spotlight of the entire dinner watching. “Do it!” Shawn was hissing in her ear as Mr. James stood with him, in mock outrage making her blood boil. Because she knew the smug f**k wasn’t upset, she’d slapped his teeth out. Instead, he was now looking for a golden opportunity to show her, he could f**k with her lively hood. A public hearing that would end with Camille apologizing in front of the entire diner watching. Heart hammering as the instinct came on firm, Camille knew she couldn’t do it. Because apologizing would make Mr. James think she was going to be passive to him, doing whatever he wanted with no complaints going forward. And Camille couldn’t do it. In the moment, even knowing how badly she needed her job and the money? She wouldn’t do it. “f**k this.” It was those words that shocked Shawn and Mr. James and herself as she heard them out loud. “What?" Shawn couldn’t believe what she was saying, but Camille knew they were long overdue. She couldn’t keep being degraded for a check. So, the altercation ended in a way no one saw coming. Snatching her apron off and throwing it on the floor, Camille’s body reacted when Shawn reached for her. She slapped the s**t out of him leaving the entire diner silent sans the sound of bacon and hashbrowns being cooked. “f**k you and him, you creepy motherfucker.” Pointing in his face before he could speak Camille sassed, “That slap was for you looking down my shirt! ANNNNDDD taking all my tips, you fat, onion breath smelling, low ball hanging wimp. The only reason why your sorry ass is on this fuckers side is because you’ll be just like him in ten years. Old, alone, bitter, and using disability checks to harass hard-working women servers to get your nut off. It’s pathetic. As are both of you. I quit!” Storming off as he and Mr. James stood in shock, Camille took her tips that night and while he wasn’t looking? Some from the register. Because what would he do? Really? Not a damn thing as he spluttered out pathetically, “C-c-camile-.” But as she shoved past him and the fellow staff and customers watched her go, it was with a middle finger to the air, no one was surprised when they never saw her again… But it wasn’t quitting the dead-end job with shitty pay that told her to leave. No, unfortunately, a more unpleasant and chilling situation had made her burst into immediate fight or flight mode. It was because of the precautionary look up for safety that in a quick glance, she noticed the person noticing her approaching that her senses went alert. Taking in the person out of the corner of her eye, her back had gone flagpole straight. Because f**k…she knew that person. The frightening and disgusting sight of the shadow that belonged to Andrew Hall was enough to send chills down her spine as she gripped her keys even tighter. M.O typical, Camille stomach turned like she had eaten something awful knowing she hadn’t eaten at all. But it was because she knew. That while on that night he was standing at a distance, getting her desensitized to his presence in her life again, Camille knew. Knew then and there, as she scurried across the potholed-filled street, that she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t stand having his presence again. Because for now he was on the corner, just watching. But soon, he’d be on her phone, at her door, stealing from her purse, and following her to the door. Waiting for her, harassing, and blatantly stalking, until he’d find her alone and vulnerable again and would force his way in. And it was the force his way in part? That made Camille almost holler like the white girls in the scream franchise as he came closer to her. Only she had to remember. There wasn’t a damn person coming to help her. So she couldn’t be a sitting duck or a victim. Stumbling into her apartment building fast as his disgusting self dared to come even closer Camille locked the bottom stairs door knowing it’ll piss off other tenets. Even though they were supposed to keep bottom and top doors to the stairway locked, no one did it out of convenience of the two or three-flight climb they had. Not wanting to be caught slipping with groceries or anything, they tried not to dawdle outside too long. Pushing it in not caring, Camille was breathing hard clearing the first floor when she heard, “Little girl you late on my rent!” Jumping hearing her landlady, Camille was full on panicking when she got to her apartment. Looking around, she immediately felt suffocated. She’d tried to make the shitty little place home like with the little money she could spare. But nothing had helped the dingy white walls come alive as the moldy apartment closed in. The one or two tapestry pictures she’d hung seeming so pathetic on the walls didn’t help as her head swam. Taking steading breaths used to calm panic attacks, Camille held her head and it was in her vulnerable state, she felt it. How bone-tired she was. How miserable she was. She wanted happiness. She couldn’t find it in the carpet floor though. Instead, it came as she heard the glass window and jumped a mild high and looked expecting Andrew on her fire escape. Turning, about to run, Camille only calmed down when she looked out and saw nothing in the late evening sky. Light still out and the window…still broken, Camille’s paranoia and anger made her want to go and confront her landlady. To go and yell at her if she had to pay rent? The old bat could fix her window at least. Only when Camille turned and noticed the wall in front of her door her entire body froze. Because it was the wall where Andrew had- “Just stay f*****g still!” Crying, fear. “NO!” Breathing out trembling, as she kept staring at the wall, it was staring at the wall that did it. It made her admit, she hated her life. She hated it, she hated this place, and she wanted out. And no one was stopping her but herself. Looking into her wallet and then pulling out her savings, plus the tips she’d taken, not to mention the added extra funds, the big bills made her heart skip. Again, and again she counted, the money seemed surprising, but as she realized if she was being serious, the number she’d jotted down was a lot more promising than she realized. Blessed and happy as possibility made her eager, Camille checked the time as she planned only steps. “No guts no glory, you gotta go!” Camille’s peptalk to herself made her pack so fast her adrenaline didn’t die until it was over. After only an hour and a half everything Camille had everything she was sure she’d need was in a duffle and suitcase. Everything else? Could be used or thrown out by whoever had the misfortune of being this low. But Camille didn’t need any more deadweight. It was time for her to go high.