#poster does not have aspd

[jeff-the-box-boy]

Random sinner headcanons and stuff

This is not all my hcs, I have some for Vergil as well. This is probably most of the sinner hcs I have tho

Yi Sang

Enjoys fermented, rotten and spoiled foodstuffs

Kinda looks like a Victorian orphan (pale, thin, probably scrounges around on the floor for food)

Fibromyalgia, type 1 diabetes, nyctalopia, pica, depression, autism, depersonalization, sea sickness, motion sickness, nut allergy, pet spit allergy, (to be continued?)

Yi Sang and his multitude evil exes like Ramona Flowers (Dongrang, Dongbaek, Gubo)

Stupid sense of humor but he rarely laughs, mostly just smiles to himself when he makes a name pun or hears an accident innuendos

Doesn't like conflict, especially personal conflict with people he cares about

Faust

Autism, NPD, lactose intolerant, (to be continued possibly)

Has a special interest in trains, was much more prevalent in childhood (Still prevalent in adulthood, it's why everything seems kinda train themed despite them being on a bus)

Plus sized fat girl

Indulges in Yi Sang's stupid puns and stuff, sometimes making puns of her own with him

Don

ADHDtism, delusions of grandeur, probably schizophrenia or STPD, pet hair and spit allergy, (TBC)

Never gets bed head or knotty hair

Very strong arms

Fixated on the fixers part of the fixer fandom

Writes fixer fanfic

Ryoshu

Probably ASPD, (TBC)

Has favorites when it comes to the other sinners (Faust, Sinclair, and Hong Lu)

Was likely an artist for the ring in her past

Shibari enjoyer, mostly rigger but does not mind modeling

Meursault

Autism, SPD (schizoid), hypersexual, hyperthymesia, (TBC)

Studies the people around him and slightly changes how he acts around them to make conversation less of a hassle/go smoother (I have a few examples of this kinda happening in canon)

Keeps a mental list of things he likes and does not like about the other sinners:

How they treat him, things they say that stick out, reactions to things he does, random tidbits and pieces of backstories

Also has like an actual physical notebook but his memory is good enough, tends to be full of shockingly detailed and realistic sketches with very few notes

Collects scraps of newspapers, pictures, and documents he finds

May or may not have pocketed an old Gregor propaganda poster

Hong Lu

ADHDtism, pica, latex allergy, nut allergy, (TBC)

Vaguely multilingual (not fluent) and sometimes practices with the sinners, like speaking German with Sinclair and Gregor (he sounds very funny when he speaks german)

Emotionally intelligent

All of his questions are genuine, except sometimes he asks stupid questions specifically to annoy Heathcliff:

Sometimes he just wants to hear Heathcliff explain something even if he already knows about it

He also plays along with light jabs and insults Heathcliff does, falsely proving them correct (often making Heathcliff groan or very fuckimg confused)

Good with hair styling and decent with makeup, if the girls have sleepovers he's definitely invited to them

He eats lipstick and chapstick. He takes big fucking bites out of them. He likes mint flavored lip balm.

He often steals lipstick from Rodya seeing shes one of the few on the bus that uses it but he makes it up to her by buying her more expensive makeup or food

Heathcliff

Possible IED, inferiority complex, C-PTSD, lactose intolerant, (TBC)

Lower empathy for rich people; higher empathy for poor people

Like using nicknames, they come naturally to him

Defaults to things like "bloke" and "lass" but he does have a few sinner specific ones

Ishmael

OCD, cyclothymia, Insomnia, nut allergy, (TBC)

Distracts herself with busy work, shes always trying to do something

If she has nothing to do she often stims or fiddles around with stuff like her hair, her fingers, or bounces her leg and stuff

Doesn't like feeling useless or inadequate

Showers and cleans herself multiple times a day

"scrubbing the sea water/whale spit(?) off"

Rodya

HPD, possible BPD, dyslexia, gambling addict, binge eater, inferiority-superiority complex, lactose intolerant, (TBC)

Left handed but claims ambidexterity

"Wanna hear something to get your brain thinking?" Proceeds to say some stupid shit that seems like it could be philosophical but it's actually a big nothing burger (sometimes Yi Sang actually tries towards interpret her nonsense in an actual poetic way)

Tries her hardest to ignore and not face problems, especially her own

Sinclair

Severe anxiety, DPD, PTSD, dyscalculia, possible BPD, nut allergy, pollen allergy, (TBC)

He has many bad habits that have stuck with him since childhood/school

Biting his nails and cuticles up while stressed

Not drinking enough water (doesn't want to pee during class/a meeting)

Waits till the end of a briefing to ask questions or for help 

Wears his gloves to stop his nail biting 

He also just has really cold hands

He's bites the inside of his cheeks when he can't bite his nails

Internalized homophobia but like.. in a weird way. Like. Does gay things but, either feels bad abt it, like guilty, or tries to make not gay excuses for it. But like only for himself?

Projects self hatred and his trauma on his enemies, which makes it easier for him to attack them

When both him and Demian are asleep at the same time they can share dreams and interact with each other in them

Outis

Autism, possible PTSD, latex allergy, (TBC)

She's a kiss-ass towards Dante because she had to be a kiss-ass during the war in order to move up in position

Kinda glues herself to Dante's side, she explains things that don't need explained or says she's gonna protect them (Ishmael does it better) (Dante doesn't bother trying to get Outis to stop)

The oldest sinner (until proven not)

Looks down on many of the other sinners, she kinda ranks them in her head (waste of breath, fixable, I can work with this, decent, the manager)

Gregor

Autism, PTSD, survivor's guilt, immunocompromised, pollen allergy, latex allergy, other possible allergies,  seasonal depression, disassociation

Doesn't really know how to take a compliment since he doesn't usually get complimented 

TOUCH STARVED.

Has long antenna coming from his head along with the bug arm, also unfinished/underutilized/healed over wings that sometimes nub up under his back when he's stressed but don't break through his skin (like g corp Greg's wings)

Whenever he's in battle his eyes kind of glaze over and he disassociates, buggy bits kinda take over

Gregor doesn't like killing especially when it's not very necessary, makes him think of the war and his buddies 

Gregor also has watery eyes, this is not specifically during battle but just in general. Sometimes when he lays on his side the eye on that side starts to tear up and leak

During intense moments, little bits of exoskeleton and chitin harden on him; like a patch of shell on the side of his or his buggy shoulder extends up a bit

Actually prefers stale or slightly turned food since he got modified but he doesn't tell anyone cause he's embarrassed and kind of ashamed of it (based on book Gregor not liking fresh food and only eating rotten or bad food, but less intense)

Dante

Amnesia, latex allergy, some kind of chronic pain (arthritis possibly), (TBC)

Nonbinary they/them intersex clock with a pair of sick tits (Dante deserves boobs)

Actual like. Dark gray skin 

Usually a bit of a nervous loser but occasionally has bouts of confidence/competence/authority similar to how they were from before they lost their head

Also likes to keep themself busy with work similar to Ishmael (they are trying their hardest to be a really good manager despite being thrown into this role suddenly)

Communicates with people that aren't the sinners through writing, simple sign language (they're still learning), making a sinner translate, or tracing letters on people

Gets phantom pains all the time, especially is a sinner died an exceptionally painful death recently

Clock has feeling like a real head

Gets repairs and check ups for their internal mechanisms, the clock even more sensitive inside the clock. all the wires and gears and stuff feel strange

Gregor and Ryoshu sometimes take smoke breaks with each other or light each others cigarettes 

Meursault and Heathcliff sometimes "play dress up" or "cosplay" with Don, Heathcliff refuses to be anything that's not somewhat badass though (Meursault has worn a dress before. Meursault does not talk about this incident.)

Outis and Gregor have a mutual kind of respect, and disdain for each other. They respect each other as veterans. Outis is a bit disappointed in his deserting and not seeing the war till the end. Gregor is freaked out by her "at least I didn't die" mindset compared to his "why was I the one that had to live" mindset

Gregor empathizes greatly with Dante whenever he sees them being dehumanized because of their prosthetic. He actively tries to talk and befriend Dante to make sure they never feel lonely or worthless

Gregor and Yi Sang both have midnight cravings and they dig through the dining room trash can for stale food. One night they both ran into each other in the dark while making their way to the trash can, Gregor nearly exploded in embarrassment. They don't talk about it, or at least Gregor doesn't. Both of them think about it pretty often though, more often then they'd expect

#limbus company #limbus dante #limbus meursault #limbus don quixote #limbus ishmael #limbus hong lu #limbus yi sang #limbus faust #limbus outis #limbus heathcliff #limbus gregor #limbus rodya #limbus ryoshu #limbus sinclair #the allergy hcs and lactos intolerance hcs are from a joke tierlist i made but they were so . funny to me i made them real hcs #“TBC” means to be continued probably #theres a TBC on like all of the mental illness diagnoses because im convinded theres a chance theyre EVEN MORE ILL than i originally though #long post #headcanons #rant post

[izamationbroker]

Gee, I wonder who they're talking about! ☆

Now, before I get into the nitty-gritty about this post, I want to make clear of one very important thing:

I don't care whether they headcanon Izaya to have ASPD or not.

In fact, this post isn't really going to be much about Izaya at all. Sorry if you were hoping for a big debate, but per my disclaimer about fandom discourse, I really don't care when people disagree with me. Everyone has their own headcanons, and they're free to enjoy those headcanons however they want.

However,

What rubs me the wrong way about this post is the vaguepost slander and blatant ableism they cite as their evidence.

The language they use to describe people who headcanon Izaya as having ASPD is consistently and intentionally derogatory in an attempt to emphasize inexperience and discredit. That's crossing the line for me from "let it be" to "stepping on my lawn". I know they didn't directly mention me, but it the statement above it's hard to think of anyone else they could have possibly been referring to. That's a deliberate attempt to put me down and start beef from my perspective.

I addressed this at the very beginning of my original essay on Izaya, making clear that I was not a psych professional and that I relied a lot on basic research and the experiences of loved ones who had ASPD. I admitted that I hadn't read all of the novels. I wrote that essay in response to an ask from a friend who wanted me to go in detail about it. Naturally, differential diagnosis is a thing, and on top of that, this is a fictional character we're talking about. It's only fair that different people will interpret the text in different ways.

I was in no way trying to make the case that it was canon, because the only way one could argue it's canon is if Narita said so himself. I won't step on other people's toes about their headcanons if I don't agree with them. Just because I don't personally headcanon Izaya as autistic doesn't mean I'm going to make a long-ass post "debunking" the very possibility and vague the guy who did a writeup on how Izaya fits the criteria (No, in fact I was actually inspired by that post for the format of my own on ASPD).

This person, on the other hand, felt such a visceral disgust to the very notion that this fictional character could possibly have ASPD, that they felt the need to make a post to "debunk" it, like some kind of gross rumor. What does that say about how that person views ASPD and the real people who have it?

That brings me to my second issue with this post: The blatant ableism.

This post makes two main points about why Izaya couldn't have ASPD, and both of those points reek of ablism. "Lack of remorse" is a complex issue in the realm of ASPD, and I see it all the time with my brother and partner, who both have ASPD. From what I understand from the post, the poster seems to believe that people with ASPD are simply incapable of feeling remorse. That is really not the case. In fact, the quoted diagnostic criterion in the DSM V they are referencing says this:

"7. Lack of remorse, as indicated by being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another"

It's more than just a "lack of remorse," the DSM expands further to describe that this criterion is met when some either displays indifference or otherwise rationalizes their actions. Furthermore, there is a marked difference between regret, guilt, and remorse. Like I said, it's a complicated matter.

I know my partner has talked about it already on their own blog, but I wanted to restate it here: People with ASPD are capable of feeling remorse is select situations with select people. For example, in my essay about Izaya, I mentioned that he regrets how Mairu and Kururi turned out because he raised them. They're his family, and very close to him. It makes sense that they would be important to him and exist as an exception to his tendency to rationalize everything he does.

My brother and partner regret things all the time, but usually that's more because of outside consequences rather than internal belief that what they did was wrong or that they hurt someone. Sometimes they feel guilt, but it's quickly rationalized away before they could ever take action on it. In certain circumstances, they have felt true remorse, and because they almost never deal with it, it's probably one of the most painful things they've ever experienced. To make the blanket statement that people with ASPD simply do not experience any form of this complex emotion is extremely dehumanizing and ableist, disregarding the possibility that people are complex and should not be limited a stereotype.

The second point this poster made was that Izaya's disregard for social norms could be explained away by his IQ, and to that I say

What year are you living in?

IQ is a funky little quiz that tests your logical and spatial reasoning rooted in eugenics as an excuse to dehumanize people who don't score high enough. There is nothing social about it, and even if there was, science in this day and age have discarded its relevancy. It's been reduced to a quirky number that puzzle game apps use in their mobile ads to entice you to download them. "People with an extremely low IQ are not capable of understanding the social norms"? Just say they're r*tarded and call it a day. Seriously. Autistic people everywhere (myself included) would be disgusted at this display.

TLDR: Don't gossip and spread ableist propaganda. Oh, and

Stay off my lawn.

#tw ableist language #tw ableism #aspd #discourse #the broker speaks #I'm not putting this in iza's tag this has nothing to do with the headcanon itself

[rad-fire-vixen]

So this is off topic, but you keep using the words narcissistic, sociopathic, psychopathic, and personality disorder to insult people you disagree with. While this isn’t something you would necessarily know, you should at least be told, cluster b personality disorders (NPD, ASPD, BPD, and HPD) all form as a result of childhood trauma. These are diagnosable disorders in the DSM for a reason. Real-life people live with these disorders, trying to handle both the very serious symptoms that come with them, and the severe stigma of having those diagnoses. If someone is selfish, self-centered, and unwilling to listen to others, it’s not “them being a narcissist,” it’s them being a selfish brat. Somebody disagreeing with you does not make them psychopathic, whether or not you think they’re wrong. Somebody arguing against you doesn’t make them sociopathic. It’s like throwing around autistic or schizophrenic as insults.

Look, you’re creative. You can find other ways of insulting people without armchair-diagnosing folks with personality disorders they don’t have. It’s not just rude, it’s ableism.

as someone who was abused by a narcissist through my childhood and has ptsd as a result i really don’t give a fuck if i hurt a narcissist’s feelings lmao, cuz narcissist means a person self-absorbed and uncaring of anyone outside of themselves, and people aren’t oppressed for having psychopathy or sociopathy. in fact they’re usually the most successful in our society.

you wanna talk about ableism? how about you talk about how disabled people aren’t allowed to get married without losing their monthly government stipend? or the fact that if they have over $2,000 in their bank accounts their money and assets get seized so they have to be extremely careful about money, and usually can’t even pay for their medical treatments anyway. or if you wanna stick to mental illness, how about the women who are over diagnosed with bpd and are then pushed aside when they’re usually very traumatized by men and sexual violence? how about the fact that most ptsd is experienced by prostituted women and women in general yet male veterans are the fucking poster child, despite the rates of ptsd being over 75% and under 25% respectively? or how girls go undiagnosed with ADD or ADHD because they don’t exhibit the same symptoms as boys and therefore don’t get the help they need? i can go on and on about mental illness, really. especially in how often women and girls get misdiagnosed and are put on medications that they don’t need or hurt them.

you wanna talk about ableism? how about actual ableism, not people who exhibit lack of humanity towards other humans and feel nothing about exploiting others.

[wroughtbetwixtfanfic]

Wheels Set In Motion, Ch 2.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: As the situation in New Ham takes a dark, mysterious turn, Campbell is faced with a threat he never saw coming. With few allies and the past coming back to haunt him, he is forced to deal with a world that is crumbling fast, and choices with grim consequences.

Rating: Explicit.

Tags: Minor Character Death, Canon Divergence, Mental Health Issues, Addiction Recovery, Unhealthy Relationships, Teen Pregnancy, Past Rape/Non-con, Campbell Isn’t The Dad, Brother Feels, Attempted Murder, Supernatural Elements, Gay Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Campbell has mild ASPD and is actively trying to not be awful

Word Count: 7613

Ch 1 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 || AO3

Meet me at the library.

It was 10am when Campbell got  the text from Grizz. He had been sitting at the kitchen counter with  Elle and Harry; both of them lifted their gazes at the sound of the  buzzing, giving him a quizzical look.

It's done. I need someone to talk to.

"Who is it?" Elle wondered.

"Grizz." Campbell stood up and slipped on his shoes. "Allie went through with it."

Harry's face turned a faint shade of green. "What does he want?"

"I don't know. I'll be home soon."

Yet  another lie, but what did it matter? Campbell didn't know for sure what  was going on, or what exactly Grizz wanted to talk about; he could only  guess, and either way, it wasn't his business to share. At least it was  a beautiful day, Campbell thought as he walked to the library. Sunny,  warm but not hot. A good day to go, if he had to pick one. But Dewey  hadn't picked it, and the beauty of the summer morning didn't change  that fact, nor did it change the fact that Grizz was hunched up under  the tree in front of the library. Shaking, crying.

Campbell  didn't say anything. He walked up and sat across from Grizz, keeping his  mouth shut and studying the grass while Grizz pulled himself together.  Grizz would talk, on his own time; pushing would only make things  harder, as could unwelcome touch, even if it was out of comfort. Speech  wasn't something that could just be pried from people who were  panicking, especially not autistic people.

After fifteen  minutes, Grizz let out a shuddering whimper. He ground his wrists  against his eyes and sniffled. Coughed. "I couldn't do it."

"Yeah?"

"She  had us all pick up a gun. We didn't know which had a bullet. I tried  but, we missed the first time and I just couldn't..." Grizz choked on  his words, looking like he was going to retch. "Fuck, how are we  supposed to live with this?"

Campbell thought back on everything  he'd ever done. How did he live with the worst of it? No, he didn't  exactly feel bad about any of it, but he could imagine what it'd be  like, if he did. "I guess you just find some way to justify it, some  explanation that makes it less painful, and hold onto it until things  feel less awful."

"That works?"

"I don't know. Remorse isn't my thing, usually."

Grizz  looked up at him, frowning, but he didn't say anything. Not at first.  "There was graffiti on the wall, before we were brought here. It said  we'd been weighed, and found wanting. It was gone when we got here.  Maybe it was right, whatever it was."

"Huh." Something bothered  Campbell from the back of his mind. A faint memory. Something that felt  connected, but nothing that jumped to mind clearly. Shaking his head,  Campbell shrugged. "Who knows. Maybe. Either way, all I know is that  sometimes shit can't be avoided. All you can do is accept that it  happened, find a reason you can live with, and keep going."

"I just want it to stop hurting."

"I wish I could tell you that it will, but I don't know. It might not. It fucking sucks."

"What would you tell yourself?" Grizz asked. "If it had been you?"

"Probably  something like, we're in a shit situation without the means to keep him  safely contained, and he was a threat. Putting him down would be the  fastest, most surefire way of making sure the rest of the community  would be safe."

"That's not really true."

"You asked me for what I'd tell myself. Not for the truth."

Grizz  leaned back against the tree and stared up at its leaves. There was a  finch up among the branches, whistling an obliviously cheerful tune. "I  couldn't tell Sam about this," he said, eyes fixed on the bird. "I don't  want him to see me falling apart like some kind of weak piece of shit."

The  idea made Campbell laugh, despite the situation. "Have you met my  brother? Yeah, sometimes he can be stubborn, and he can make jokes when  it's not the best time. But he's got a lot of fire and he's  compassionate. He's a good guy. Sam isn't going to think you're weak.  He's going to think you're a good person who was put in a shit position.  Because that's the truth."

They sat there together for a while.  Grizz cried again, softer than before, but he still rocked back and  forth and let out small whimpering noises.

"Is it okay if I hug  you or something?" Campbell asked. It felt strange, just sitting there  while someone fell apart. Grizz shook his head. "Alright. Is there  anything I can do?"

Grizz used a handkerchief to wipe his face.  "Uhm." His cheeks turned a flushed pink. "Could you, I mean, I need to  take my mind of things. Could you help me find a book on sign language?  I'm... I wanna..."

"Say no more. C'mon."

Grizz followed  Campbell into the library. It felt surreal, helping the guy pick out a  book to probably sign-sext Sam, but there was a sincere curiosity and  eagerness to Grizz as they headed towards the language section that  Campbell decided he didn't care. Whatever. The guy had just watched  someone die. But as they walked towards the section, Campbell turned the  plan over in his head. A few times, in fact. By the time they got  there, he knew what he would do.

Campbell grabbed a book on  British Sign Language before Grizz had a chance to look over things  much. "Here. This is the one I used to learn. It's super informative."

"But it says British." Grizz frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. It's pretty much the same thing, just with... you know, British slang."

Grizz  peered at the book as Campbell pushed it into his hands. "Huh. Well,  okay. If you say so. Thanks, Campbell. For being cool about this, I  mean."

"No big deal. You help me, I'll help you."

He  didn't tell Grizz the plan, of course. That was something he'd find out  all on his own, but he'd thank Campbell for it later. They explored the  library a bit more, with Grizz staring down the religion and  spirituality section before shaking his head and leaving. Campbell  didn't ask. He just made sure Grizz got home safe, before heading home  himself. Hopefully, Grizz would just tuck into his room and focus on  learning the wrong type of sign language, and take it easy.

Elle  was sitting on the porch when he got home, getting together some paper,  pens and other stuff. "Hey," she called as he walked up. "I'm heading  over to Becca's house. She's going to help me make missing dog signs  during my work break."

Campbell winced. "I'm sorry he's still gone, babe. Do you need me to come help put them up?"

"No. I've got it."

She  sounded upset, but of course she was upset. Charlie was gone and hadn't  been found. He considered telling her about the blood, but he'd already  lied about it; it'd look bad if he suddenly admitted it had come from  the night Charlie went missing. Besides, he had no clue if the blood was  Charlie's, and Elle didn't need to hear that something-- who knew what,  some unknown dark mass-- probably ate her dog.

"Alright. Have a good day at work. If you change your mind, I'll see you at lunch."

Campbell  kissed Elle's forehead. She gave him a smile and stroked his cheek  before leaving. He watched her go, his own smile falling once she was  out of sight. There had to be something he could do to cheer her up.  First thing was first, though. He went inside and checked in on Harry,  who was snoozing in bed. His forehead felt feverish when Campbell  pressed his hand to it. But he didn't stir, and Campbell didn't want to  wake him. Instead, he grabbed a book from the living room and perched at  the end of Harry's bed, waiting.

It was close to lunch time when  Harry groaned, stretched, and yawned. He blinked sleepily at Campbell,  and Campbell felt his heart ache a centimeter more than before. Harry  sat up and rubbed his eyes, voice groggy. "Hey, Cam. How long have you  been here?"

"A while. You feeling okay?"

"No. I feel like I got hit by a truck."

"Hungry?"

"No."

Standing,  Campbell went to the kitchen and brewed a cup of herbal tea, with a few  scoops of sugar. He brought it back to Harry and held it out. Harry  sighed and sipped the drink. "No caffeine for a bit," Campbell said as  he opened the curtains a touch. "It'll make you more jittery."

"Can  I lie and say I feel great?" Harry asked with mock hope. Campbell gave  him a look, and Harry slumped. "I guess I better get ready for work and  stuff."

"Just brush your teeth and put some shoes on. I'll do your half of the work, I just need you there so I can keep an eye on you."

"But Allie--"

"Can take it out on me if she has a problem with it."

Harry  bit his lip, but he didn't argue. Campbell drove them to lunch so Harry  wouldn't have to stress his body out; Elle joined them out in the  school's courtyard, where it was pleasantly warm and away from the  bright fluorescent lights. Harry picked at his food, but he seemed a  little less haggard, out in the sunlight and with the fresh air. Elle  was quiet and didn't say much.

No one, Campbell realize, was  saying much. Not at lunch, not during cleaning duties before dinner.  Elle had left with Becca-- who hadn't even glanced at Campbell-- to go  hang up the missing dog posters. The house felt heavy, and at work,  everything was the same way. People had cheered for Dewey's arrest, and  some had even cheered for his death sentence, were stone silent.  Campbell kept his head down and mopped the floors, but he wanted to  laugh in their faces. See, he wanted to yell. You think you're so  fucking righteous, but you all have blood on your hands, too. They  thought they were so tough. Now, reality was hitting them right in their  fucking faces.

That evening, after dinner, Allie called a  meeting at the church. "Greg Dewey was put to death at 9am this  morning," she said. Her voice was flat. She didn't look at anyone,  staring straight ahead. "He was buried in the woods without a marker.  There will be no funeral. If you want to mourn him, you can do so among  yourselves."

And then she left, leaving behind a church of  stunned faces, with plenty of shocked whispers among them. Campbell,  Elle, and Harry went home without a word, and that night was the first  time Elle slept in her own room in a long time. He didn't mind the time  alone. There was a lot to think about, to try and process. He thought he  would feel some sort of comfort, some sort of closure, but he felt  nothing. Just a dark hole where Cassandra had been, still, and no real  sense of justice. Just cold practicality, distant and hollow logic that  said it was the right move for survival, and that was it.

Dewey  had deserved to suffer. To live for ages, knowing what he did and be  punished for it. Death wasn't to punish him or get Cassandra some sort  of peace in her rest. It was just to get Dewey out of their hair. And  Campbell knew that, had known that the whole time, but with it over and  done...

His phone buzzed. I love you, the text from Sam read. That was it.

I love you, too, Campbell texted back.

The  message was read, but Sam didn't send anything else. Campbell set the  phone down and tried to go to sleep. He didn't know why Sam had sent  that, or what it or his own reply meant at all, but something about it  felt like an acknowledgment that things were fucked and who knew how  much time any of them had? Maybe that was all it was. Two semi-estranged  souls feeling burdened by the idea of death, and reaching out for some  small scrap of familial affection. Just in case.

For the next  week, the days seemed to drag by but vanish in a blink at the same time.  Everyone seemed to be in their own little bubbles, except for Harry,  who stuck close by Campbell's side. It was hell watching him detox, and  Campbell wondered if he'd been that irritable; one moment, Harry would  be angry and snapping, the next he'd be crying. He slept all the time,  which wasn't too far from normal, but even when Campbell dragged him to  work-- to pretend like he was working-- he'd glaze over like some sort  of robot without batteries.

Elle had withdrawn into her shell.  Campbell didn't know what to do. They weren't fighting, but her smiles  were forced and when she laughed or acted interested in anything going  on, Campbell could tell it was fake. He knew that sort of mask all too  well. But what could he do? He didn't even know for sure what was wrong.  If he didn't know any better, he'd think it was something he'd done.  Maybe it was, but he'd been on his best behavior. What was he missing?

Allie  arrived at the house one day when Campbell was sipping coffee on the  front steps, pondering that exact question. "I heard Harry hasn't been  working," she said, staring past him at the house door. "Can I talk to  him?"

"He's sleeping. You can talk to me."

"Campbell, you know the rules. You don't work, you don't eat."

Campbell  shrugged. "Fine. I've taken over his shifts until he feels better. If  I'm doing twice the work, I get twice the food. No problem."

"Christ. What's going on with him?"

"He's detoxing. Gave up the drugs and the booze cold turkey."

"Really?"

"Is it really that surprising?"

"I  guess I just never thought..." Allie rolled her eyes, then looked  Campbell over. "Alright, fine. Have it your way. Twice the work, twice  the food. I don't care what you do with it. How long does he need?"

"Assuming my research is right, about another week. Week and a half."

"He's got two weeks. If he needs longer, then he needs to come see me."

"Thanks." Hesitating a moment, Campbell called out to Allie as she started to walk away. "Hey, Allie? Can I ask you something?"

Allie sighed, but stopped. "What's up?"

"Do you know if something happened with Elle? She's been acting kinda strange lately."

"I don't know. She's been hanging out with Helena and Becca a lot. Ask them."

"Well,  I would, be Helena wants me to burn in Hell and Becca hasn't spoken to  me in forever. Makes things a little difficult, doesn't it?"

"Really?" Furrowing her eyebrows, Allie took a few steps back towards Campbell. "You guys used to be friends, didn't you?"

"Kinda. But then..." Careful. "Life happened, I guess, and she won't even look at me anymore. No clue why."

The  look on Allie's face shifted, and for a moment Campbell thought she was  going to ask something, but then she shook her head. "I'll ask Sam to  talk to her. You and him are on speaking terms again, yeah?"

"Yeah. Mostly."

"Good."

That  sounded almost genuine. Maybe it was. Who knew. Allie walked off, and  Campbell finished his coffee in peace. The mystery only deepened as the  day went on, and Sam texted him, asking to meet. Elle was at work, so  Campbell dragged a weary Harry along to the coffee shop where his  brother was waiting. Sam gave Harry a skeptical look, but Harry tucked  himself into a corner in the back with a book and one of Campbell's  hoodies draped over his shoulders. He wasn't going to be paying  attention.

"How have you been?" Campbell asked. "Since everything."

"Tired. Sad. Worried."

"Worried?"

Sam  shook his head and gave a helpless sort of shrug. "About how it will  change things. How it will change us. But I think Allie is taking it  harder than most of us. She had to take over for Grizz."

Now, that was something Campbell hadn't known. "Yikes. No wonder she's tense."

"Everyone seems tense. Allie told me you're having troubles with Elle?"

"Maybe,  I don't know. I'm glad she's got some friends now, but lately she's  been hanging out with Becca more. She found a dog wandering loose, and  then he disappeared right around the time all this Dewey shit started.  Maybe it's just that."

"Maybe. That's rough."

"It is."  Campbell noticed a hint of... something in Sam's eyes, though. "Do you  know if Becca has anything against me? We got along okay, but she treats  me like I've got some sort of contagious disease these days."

Pursing  his lips together, Sam glanced to where Harry was curled up. Harry was  still ignoring them, but Sam switched to signing only. "I want to ask  you something, but you have to promise to tell me the truth."

"I could lie about promising," Campbell signed back, also going into silent mode. "But sure. I promise."

"Did you and Becca ever sleep together?"

"What? Hell no. Elle's the only person I've slept with."

"That's what I thought, but..."

"But?"

A long, long pause. "Promise you won't say anything, not even to Elle? Or Harry?"

"Dude, still the same problem there."

"Campbell."

"Okay, okay. What's going on?"

"Becca's..."  Sam hesitated. "I asked Becca about someone she slept with, and she got  angry with me. She told me to never ask her again. I assumed it was  you, because I don't know why else she wouldn't tell me."

Campbell  felt dizzy, in a way, as he processed the information. Was it possible  Becca associated him with that night, and just didn't want to remember?  Or, worse, that she thought he had been responsible? Either way, he had  no idea what Becca had confessed to Sam, so best to stay vague. "I know  about the party where she met them, but it wasn't me. We just went  together."

"She never told me about that. You don't know who it was?"

"No. Sorry."

"It's okay. Do you want me to talk to Becca for you?"

"No, no, I don't want to bother her, especially if she's angry at me over something. I'll see if Elle will just talk to me."

Sam  nodded. He messed with the salt and pepper shakers on the table. Empty  now, their contents taken by Will and his crew to use in the communal  kitchen. "Was that all you wanted to talk about?"

The answer was  yes. Campbell hadn't planned on talking about anything else. Yet now  that he was there, sitting across from Sam and actually talking about  things rather than arguing or blaming or whatever, Campbell considered  that maybe it was also time to extend another olive branch. A bigger,  better one. "Actually, I was thinking we could go to the arcade on our  next day off. Like we used to."

"Really?" Sam sat up a little straighter. "You want to?"

"Yeah, of course. If you want to."

"I'd like that."

They  settled on a day and time, and went their separate ways; it was easier  than Campbell had expected. No questions, no suspicion. Just a glint of  hope. Campbell was starting to think that maybe Sam really did care  about him. Maybe he always had. He'd known that his own feelings had  been impacted by his parents, but was the same true for Sam? Did their  relationships with their parents really color the relationship between  them so much? It seemed hard to believe, but maybe it was true, and it  had just taken a few doses of tragedy to bridge that gap.

Unfortunately,  those tragedies seemed to have broken something between Campbell and  Elle. She smiled, she laughed at his shitty jokes, and she accepted his  affection, but there was a stiffness to it. It was forced. Once lunch  was over and Elle had gone home to rest, Campbell popped back into the  cafeteria. Elaine was working. They weren't as close as before, but she  still seemed welcoming when he approached. That was a good sign.

"Hey," Campbell said with as charming of a smile as he could muster. "Could I ask you for a favor?"

Elaine tilted her head. "You can, doesn't mean I'll agree. What's up?"

"I  was hoping to make my girlfriend a dinner at home tonight. You know,  just me and her. Something special. I just need a jar of like, alfredo  sauce and some garlic bread."

"That's cute. I'll have to ask Will, though."

Oh, god. "Okay."

Shuffling  into the back, Elaine vanished, and a few minutes later Will came out  instead. He looked neutral, but Campbell braced for a fight. "Elaine  said you asked for some extra ingredients. You know we're not supposed  to give out food for people to use at home."

"I know. Maybe I can  bring in some other supplies to trade, at breakfast? You guys probably  need band aids and stuff like that, yeah?"

Will narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, we could use some. Are you sure you wanna do that?"

"I'm sure," Campbell replied. "Elle's important to me. I want to do something nice for her."

"I can give you a jar of sauce, and a few slices of texas toast we've got. You got a box of band aids we can have?"

A  small price for what Campbell was hoping to accomplish. Maybe Elle just  needed a pick-me-up, something to remind her that he cared. The next  night, Harry took Elle out with the excuse of getting some fresh air  while Campbell quickly set the dining room table. Nice glasses,  sparkling cider his parents had kept around for the 4th of July,  candlelight. He salted the pasta water, drained it when it was al dente,  and added the sauce to the pot with a bit of pasta water and dried  herbs. He mixed in some canned mushrooms and a bit of pan-fried frozen  chicken, heated the bread, and got it plated just as the two came back  from the walk.

"Oh?" Elle peeked into the dining room. "What's this?"

Campbell  took her hand and kissed it as Harry darted into his room, flashing  Campbell a thumbs up behind Elle's back. "I thought we could stay home  tonight, babe. Will traded me a few things so I could make dinner here,  just the two of us. I remembered that you liked Italian food, so..."

Elle stretched up on her tippy toes and kissed him. "It looks amazing. Thank you."

And  it was amazing, for the first half of dinner. Campbell hated small  talk, but Elle was quieter than usual, and if there was ever a time to  sort things out... well, maybe it wasn't then, but he was tired of  waiting. "How have you been doing?" he asked. "I feel like we haven't  really talked lately."

"Oh! Well, I've mostly just been working  and helping out some people around town. Some people are talking about  setting up classes and workshops to give people things to focus on. I  was thinking about reviving movie night."

"That sounds like a good idea. We could all use the distraction."

"Yeah." Elle glanced up from her plate. "There haven't been any leads on Charlie, though. Have you heard anything?"

"Sorry, babe. I haven't heard anything, either."

"And you're sure you don't know what happened to him?"

Campbell  gripped his fork tighter as his jaw clenched. Peaceful thoughts,  peaceful thoughts. Maybe she didn't mean anything by it. "What do you  mean?"

"I was talking to Becca, and--"

"She told you what Sam said?"

"Sure. Yeah."

"Elle,  that's..." He stopped and rubbed his face. Even now, even with her, it  was all too easy for his brain to go into that space where everyone was a  threat and he had to attack to defend himself. This time, he managed to  cut himself off before anything snappish came out his mouth. "I've  fucked up a lot, and some people in town hate me for a decent reasons.  Kelly, Allie. I was mean to them. But Becca's different."

"Different how?"

"I  never did anything to Becca, but she hates me, too. Maybe it's because  of me and Sam not getting along. I don't know. But whatever she said I  did, it's not true."

"Alright. I'm sorry I said anything. I should have known."

"Hey."  Campbell stood up and walked to her side of the table, kneeling on the  floor next to her and taking her hand in his own. "No, it's okay. I'm  not mad at you or Sam or Becca. I just wanted to set the record  straight, you know? It's better to just get it out in the open."

Elle  nodded, but she was still staring down at her plate. "Yeah, it is. I  guess I just..." She trailed off, finally looking to him. "This place is  doing things to people. Showing them for who they are, maybe. It scares  me."

"It's scary shit. But we still have each other, right?"

"Right."

Campbell  knew, deep down, it wasn't that simple. Elle began sleeping with him  again-- both in the literally and euphemistic sense-- but there was a  sadness in her eyes that never quite seemed to fade, even on their best  days. She was afraid, and his presence wasn't changing that. He couldn't  blame her. He knew that there was no way he could be at her side every  moment of every day, and even if he was, he wasn't bulletproof. Still,  he refused to stop trying.

He kept seeing Grizz a couple times a  week. Usually they would just talk. Vent. Grizz found some papers he had  on something called EMDR, and suggested they try it. "It seems to help  with stuff like PTSD."

"I don't have PTSD."

"You don't think so?"

"I'm not a war vet, Grizz. I haven't been through anything bad enough for that."

Grizz  gave Campbell the look he always gave Campbell when he knew Campbell  was trying to avoid a topic, and thought it was bullshit. It was one  thing Campbell admired about Grizz-- he didn't hide his opinion. "You  don't have to be a war vet. You know that. It's actually the least  common cause for PTSD. Physical assault, sexual trauma, and sexual  assault are the top three causes."

"Yeah, okay. I get the point."

"Do you? Do you know what the fourth leading cause is?"

"I know you're gonna tell me either way."

"Sudden  death of a loved one." Grizz lowered his voice and leaned forward,  making direct eye contact for the first time since they' bee having  meetings. "You were the one who first found her body, weren't you?"

Campbell met his eyes and felt goosebumps rise up on his arms. "How do you know that? I never told you."

"It doesn't really matter, because I know you didn't hurt her. Here's the papers."

Just  to end the conversation, Campbell snatched the paper folder from Grizz  and hid in the corner of the library. He didn't want to have to think  about what Grizz said, not for a long time, if ever. It wasn't some  miracle cure, but Grizz figured out a sort of at-home way to do it, and  Campbell did feel better. Calmer. In return, he helped Grizz practice  his BSL, even if Campbell knew it wouldn't work with Sam. It wasn't  entirely useless. Learning a new language was beneficial, and Grizz was  proud of his improvements; Campbell enjoyed the interaction, so really,  it was a win/win.

Harry stayed clean, though as summer passed by  and melded into fall, Campbell could tell that the depression was  getting worse. It wasn't too much of a surprise. Depression didn't just  go away, even with treatment, and getting sober made everything more  difficult. It had been a coping mechanism, and now Harry didn't have  that to lean on. Campbell taught him some of what he'd learned from  Cassandra and Grizz; it seemed to help, but the situation they were in  just kept punching a lot of people down. Harry needed to rest, but he'd  been dragged back to work once the two weeks had been up. To make  matters worse, the work schedules hadn't been rotated since Dewey's  execution.

"I brought it up to her," Sam said during one of their  now-weekly get togethers. "But she just isn't listening. You know  Allie. She has her opinions."

"Runs in the family. I don't get it, though. If she's so worried about people revolting against her, why is she doing this?"

Sam  lifted his shoulders in a big shrug. "I have no idea. She gave me a job  at the library, and told me I could stay there as long as I wanted.  She's done the same for a few other people. Given them stable jobs.  Maybe she feels like that's what's best for everyone, now."

"Yeah, except she didn't ask anyone."

"She doesn't have to."

And  that was that, in the end. Allie didn't have to justify or explain her  choices to anyone. It was her rules now. It was her society. They were  all just living in it, despite what she may have said during the  mandatory town meetings. Campbell kept his fingers on the pulse of the  community as best as he could, making notes of who was pissed,  frustrated, complaining. He wouldn't give it over to the guard or to  Allie, but it was good to keep track of the undercurrent of the river  they were all standing in. And it was getting rough.

There was a small reprieve during October.

"I  guess Blake, Clark, and some of the goth kids are getting a Halloween  thing together at the end of the month," Elle said one day when she came  home from work. "Do you wanna go?"

Campbell looked up from the dishes he was washing. "Hey. Sure, that sounds like a good time. When is it going to be?"

"Five in the evening. I guess there's gonna be a trick-or-treat event after dark."

"Nice. That should be fun."

"Do you want to do the costume thing?"

"I don't know. How about you?"

Elle  perched on the counter next to him, lightly kicking her legs. "It could  be fun. We don't have to do anything complicated. We could ask Harry  and Sam and a few other people to come with us, maybe?"

Other  people was vague, but she sounded so tentative that he didn't want to  press her about it. "Sure. Halloween's kind of better in a group, right?  Maybe tomorrow we can go through our stuff and figure out costume  ideas."

"Sure. That'd be nice."

And it was. They didn't  have anything super elaborate to work with, but it was fun to paw  through their closets and figure something out together. They didn't  have much luck at first, but Elle's smile was a bit warmer than it had  been in a while. Maybe things were going to be okay between them, after  all. She held his hand when they went to movie night together, and ended  up leaning against him; she and the others involved had decided every  week in October would be a different horror movie, which seemed like  both the best and worst idea.

It was a double feature night,  with Rocky Horror Picture Show and Bela Lugosi's Dracula. Harry had  decided to come with them, unlike the previous week's Creature from the  Black Lagoon. Harry ended up falling asleep on his shoulder twenty  minutes into the second movie. Once the movie was over, Campbell and  Harry helped Elle clean up; Elle and Campbell had just taken out the  last bag of trash when Elle curled her arms around his waist in a hug.

"Hey,"  she said as she nuzzled his shoulder. "I got a costume idea. We could  always go as Mina and Dracula. Classic. I could wear my nice white dress  my mom got me for my birthday this year."

"The one with the lace hem?"

"You remember."

"Of course. You wore it for Easter. It's amazing on you."

She let out a pleased hum. "Do you really like the idea?"

"I do," Campbell affirmed. "Vampires are still in, aren't they?"

"Always."

Even  with something to look forward to, the time dragged a little, but it  gave Campbell a touch of excitement for the near future. The three of  them managed to sneak some Halloween decorations, not something his  parents had really allowed, and make the house appropriately festive. He  and Harry got in a light argument over whether Nightmare Before  Christmas was a Halloween or Christmas movie. The week before the  Halloween events, Will revealed that there were pumpkins available for  decorating.

Sam showed up with a few, looking hopeful. "I thought we could carve them together," he signed, "since we never have before."

And  how could Campbell say no? They sat on the back porch, and Elle joined  them with a pitcher of hot, spiced tea. It was sunny and perfect weather  for it. Sam didn't eye him for wielding a knife, which was a bonus.  Campbell sliced the pumpkins open and dug out the seeds. "There. I'll  have to find some tea candles for when they're done."

Harry sat  nearby, picking the seeds out of the orange goop. "These can be roasted  later," he said. He wrinkled his nose as he grabbed a handful. "Even if  it look like something you'd find growing under a bridge."

Sam  signed something, and Harry glanced at Campbell, unsure. Campbell  chuckled. "He said we might have to forage under bridges if things get  bad."

"Oh, geeze." Harry turned his eyes back to Sam. "Better have Grizz teach us about mushrooms."

Blushing,  Sam nodded and focused on his pumpkin. He made a sort of howling wolf  face, while Elle made a cat, and Campbell and Harry stuck to more  traditional jack o' lantern faces. As it turned out, all carved pumpkins  were destined to be decorations at the Halloween Eve festival that had  been planned; Grizz came around to pick them up the day before, spending  a few minutes talking to Sam, who had come by again to make roasted  pumpkin seeds.

Campbell waited until Grizz was gone before nudging Sam. "When are you gonna go for it? It's been months."

"He hasn't made any sort of move at all. Are you even sure he likes me?"

"Have you made a move?"

He  didn't push the issue when Sam kept quiet. It wasn't really Campbell's  business, and his relationship with Sam was just beginning to bloom into  something that actually resembled a brotherhood. The lovebirds would  come together on their own, eventually, or they wouldn't. Still, it was  nice to think maybe Sam wouldn't be alone forever, after all. It was  something he'd always worried about, ever since that priest put it in  his head after Sam had come out.

At least Grizz was part of the  group that gathered together to go to the Halloween events. Campbell  dressed in black jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket;  he'd managed to barter high-quality custom fangs from Elaine, and of  course, Elle looked effortlessly beautiful in her white dress and pale  make-up. The three of them met the others in front of the school. It was  mostly Sam and Allie's friend group, but Campbell was determined to  play nice, even though Will, Luke, and Gordie were giving him wary  looks, and Becca outright ignored him. There was a tension between her  and Sam. Campbell assumed there must have been an argument. Regardless  of what happened, they all plastered smiles on their faces and greeted  each other.

Allie raised her eyebrows at Harry. "Dude, what's your costume?"

Harry  stood there in boxers, a tank top, and moose slippers with a five day  shadow and an unopened package of Top Ramen in his hands. Without  missing a beat, he gestured to himself with it and shrugged. "I'm a  Millennial.

"Ah. The scariest urban legend."

Bean gave Harry a concerned look. "Aren't you gonna be cold like that?"

"Not with the increasing effects of global warming, I won't."

Most  of them chuckled. It was an uneasy sound that came with knowing they  might not actually survive long enough to worry about that sort of thing  anymore. Food. Warmth over the winter. Sickness. Student loan debt and  rising sea levels seemed like such a distant problem, in their new town.

The  big event distracted them, anyways. There were a few different  activities going on. In one area, there was a big barrel where people  were bobbing for apples, provided by someone who was lucky enough to  have an apple tree in their yard. Blake and a few theater kids were  doing face painting, and Clark had offered up his pick-up truck for  rides along the more picturesque parts of town. All the carved pumpkins  were scattered around with candles, and people had gathered up bags of  leaves to scatter around the field. A little ways out, there was a  bonfire going, where people were serving cups of hot cider, and roasting  hot dogs and marshmallows. Someone had brought a speaker system, and  cheesy Halloween music filled the air along with the smells of wood  smoke, caramelized sugar, and spices.

A solid half of the group  got their faces painted, and after seeing how cute it was, Allie gave  in, too. Campbell politely declined, as did Luke, Helena, and Harry.  Surprising Campbell, Harry decided to bob for apples; he looked like a  soggy dog when he came back up, but he did have an apple and won that  round. He winked at Campbell when no one was looking, and Campbell  rolled his eyes. Show off, even when it was apple bobbing.

"I  guess they converted the school into a haunted house," Kelly said after  they'd gotten cider and snacks at the bonfire. "Wanna go, anyone?"

Everyone  agreed, except for Becca, who's eyes were pointedly on Campbell when  she refused. "No thanks, I'm a little tired. I'll just stay here by the  fire."

Sam signed to her. "We'll come get you in a little bit."

"Okay. Have fun."

Campbell  started to leave with the group, but then paused. He waited until they  were a ways away before turning back to Becca. "Look, I don't want a  fight, but you clearly are pissed off at me for some reason." He didn't  want to bring up what Sam said. "I don't understand why."

"Really?" Becca glowered at him. "You're playing that card?"

"What card? One day we're kinda friends, and when I took you home after what happened at Harry's party, you just--"

"Fuck you, Campbell."

"Becca, just tell me what I did. I can try to fix it or something."

Standing  up, Becca raised her voice until she was practically yelling. "Fix it?  You can't fix what you did to me! How dare you? Maybe you've got Sam and  Allie and Grizz fooled, but not me. I know what you did. And one of  these days, so will everyone else, and you'll get what you deserve."

"So  you think I did it." Campbell had suspected, but it still felt like  someone had kicked him in the gut. "Becca, I don't know what you  remember, but I didn't do it. I found you, and I helped you get home.  That was it."

"Leave me the fuck alone! Get away from me!"

People  were starting to stare. Campbell opened his mouth, shut it again, and  turned to follow after everyone else. He froze when he saw that Elle was  standing not too far away; she had stopped when she'd noticed Campbell  wasn't with them, probably, and now she was looking at him with a look  that chilled even him.

Campbell approached her, slow and with care. "Babe, I don't know what you heard, but--"

"We should catch up with the others."

"Elle."

"Please. Not now."

Clenching  his teeth, Campbell followed silently behind Elle as she made her way  to the school. No, he wanted to shout. No, we're not leaving it like  this. You have to listen to me, you have to believe me. But if Campbell  were Elle, he knew he wouldn't believe him, either. Becca was a  straightforward, no bullshit kind of person. Honest, with a spotless  record, and she was well-liked. She was Sam's friend since childhood.  She'd never been Campbell's friend, really, but they knew each other.  He'd had opportunity. It didn't look good, and if it got out, how would  he be able to defend himself? How could he fight that, without hurting  Becca?

He didn't know. All he knew was that the rest of the night  was a blur, and by the time they all got home, the evening was  thoroughly ruined. Harry kept his mouth shut and hid in his room; he  could sense there was a storm brewing, and Campbell didn't blame him for  wanting nothing to do with it. Elle fled upstairs. Campbell gave her a  few minutes, and then went up. She was sitting in her own bathroom,  staring at the mirror. It looked like she'd planned to take her make up  off, but she hadn't started yet. Elle just... stared at her reflection.

"Babe?" Campbell called softly. "Can we talk?"

"Is she telling the truth?"

The cutting, dangerous edge to Elle's voice was enough to make Campbell swallow. Hard. "How do you mean that, exactly?"

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't. Do you mean about being attacked, or it being me who did it?"

"Did you rape Becca?"

"Jesus,  Elle." Running his hand through his hair, Campbell sat down on the  floor just outside the bathroom. "No. I didn't rape her."

"So she's lying?"

"I'm  not saying she's lying. She was attacked at a party Harry threw with  the football team and some college assholes from outside of town. We  went together as friends, I lost sight of her, and when I found her it  had already happened. I made sure she got home, but she was pretty out  of it. She refuse to go to the hospital and she told me not to tell  anyone. The next day, she blocked my number and hasn't spoken to me  since. I believe that she thinks it was me, but it wasn't."

Elle  was watching him in the mirror, expression completely closed off and  eyes blank. "You know how this looks, right? You know how many guys say  it wasn't them when they get accused."

"I know, and I know that  ninety-nine times out of a hundred, the victim is right. I'm not saying  Becca wasn't attacked. Hell, I understand why she thinks it's me. Trust  me, if I could find the dirtbag who hurt her, I'd rip their fucking head  off. But I don't know who it was. I just know it wasn't me."

Turning  on the sink, Elle began to remove her make up. She didn't speak. She  didn't look at him. He didn't try and make her. They just both sat there  in their own thoughts. Campbell knew that she was going to leave. It  was all too much, and he knew that. His shitty temper, his moodiness,  what happened with Sam and then Cassandra, Charlie vanishing, and now  this. Even if he didn't or hadn't done everything he was accused of,  Campbell knew he was difficult to deal with, and he knew he'd done  enough to be suspect. Why would she stay with someone like him?

"I need a night to just clear my head, I think," Elle finally said. She frowned and fiddled with her hair. "Is that okay?"

"Of course. Take the time you need."

"Thank you. Goodnight, Campbell."

He  stood and went to his room. Elle shut the door behind him, and the  sound of the lock to her door clicking shut sounded a lot like the sound  of his heart cracking. He paced his room for a while, after that. Elle  was just scared. It made sense. He loved her, and she must have loved  him too, otherwise she'd have left long ago. Maybe he could talk with  Sam and see if Becca would talk to him. Hear him out, in a quieter  environment with Sam or someone else there to help her feel safe. Maybe  if Campbell explained what he remembered, it would help her, too. But  what if it didn't? What if it made things worse, or Elle left before  then, or left anyways?

Crawling into bed, Campbell sighed. Happy  fucking Halloween. His gaze moved to the clock by his bed. Well, not  Halloween anymore. It was a little past midnight. It was November 1st.  Almost winter. A bad time to find one's self isolated. His bed felt  cold, he felt cold, and something in him felt... off, detached,  shivering and alone, even with other people in the same house. It had  been a while since he'd felt that way. Best to get used to it. Things  were only going to get colder. Literally and metaphorically, it seemed.  But Harry still looked at him warmly. Grizz was a friend. And Sam. Sam  was there for him, too, maybe.

Campbell closed his eyes. He just had to take his own advice.

Find a reason, and keep going.

#the society #the society netflix #the society fanfiction #the society netflix fanfiction #the society fanfic #the society netflix fanfic #the society fic #the society netflix fic #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #writing #campbell eliot #sam eliot #harry bingham #elle tomkins #allie pressman #grizz visser #wroughtwriting #cw: minor character death

[wroughtbetwixtfanfic]

Love, Blood, And Rhetoric, Ch 1.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: Campbell's just trying to survive in the new world. He knows he can make it-- it's everyone else he's worried about.

Rating: Mature.

Tags: Canon Divergence, Mental Health Issues, Family Issues, Substance Abuse, Complicated Relationships, Consent Issues, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Mild Sexual Content, assuming Elle and Campbell are both 18 for the sake of things, Underage Drinking, PTSD, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, implied eating disorder, Fix-It, Campbell has mild ASPD, and is actively trying to not be awful

Word Count: 6061

Part One, Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 || AO3

Disclaimer: This is part two of a three part series. Reading part one is more-or-less essential.

This is a canon divergent storyline for Campbell, using (in my experience) a realistic take on conduct disorder and ASPD instead of Hollywood "psychopath" stereotypes. While people with conduct disorder can be violent and abusive, the diagnosis does exist on a spectrum, and neither ASPD nor "psychopathy" should be diagnosed before the age of 18; this is one thing that rubbed me the wrong way on The Society. Campbell's power will be more in his ability to manipulate-- not "being crazy". Hopefully I can succeed in presenting a more understandable and less sensationalized vision of his behavior. Please note that I have no intention of making him a violent abuser, to bring his character more in line with my experiences of how an emotionally neglected teen with moderately reduced empathy would behave, provided they were actively attempting to help themselves.

Tl;dr I just wanted to make Campbell less needlessly shitty, because it makes me feel better as a person, and because I wanted one (1) antagonist who isn't just an evil, horrible abuser with a scary mental illness.

Thank you for reading, and leaving kudos/comments/likes. <3 

///

The bridge was quiet as a graveyard. It was something out of a science fiction movie, wasn't it? Alice in Wonderland type shit. Something happens, and suddenly the world goes inside out, with people transported to some other dimension. No one had said a damn word, but it was the only explanation that made any sense at all. It looked like home, but it wasn't home. Everything felt a few degrees to the side. Just a tiny bit abnormal. Forests that sprouted up around them overnight. Everyone else in the city, gone. The smell, gone. Gordie was the first to break the silence. "I mean, there's only so many options."

"Maybe we're dreaming," Allie offered. "It's the best option." Campbell rolled his eyes, but held his tongue for Cassandra's sake. They would all have to be dreaming the exact same dream at the same time, and that seemed far less likely than some sort of weird wormhole situation. Harry was sitting on his car hood, with Helena and Luke next to him. He ran his hands through his hair; he was still half drunk, and had no business being there, but there he was and he was freaking out. "Maybe this is just some elaborate fucking game. Like, someone built an exact replica of our town and just put it in the middle of nowhere, and if we just walk..." He paused, waving his hands towards the trees. "Like, this way or that way or any way, eventually we'll get back to the real world." Christ, that was an even worse theory. Campbell sighed. "An exact replica of the town," he pressed, "complete with all our family's cars? Our clothes? Our bathroom towels, posters, jewelry, stuffed animals, the food in our fridges?" "I'm not saying it makes any sense." Crossing her arms, Cassandra leaned against the bridge and frowned. She had that debate team look in her eyes. The look that said she was trying to dissect the situation in her mind. "There was a smell, and then it went away. It came back, and the buses came for us." Harry scoffed. "You're gonna just work this out, Cassandra? Like some logic problem? I mean, not a flicker of a doubt?" "The world doesn't just turn upside down without a reason. We're not in some play-within-a-play. Okay? Clever is not the same thing as true. There is a point to everything, there are answers." "That's right," Helena chimed in. "God doesn't just play games with people for fun." Cassandra clenched her jaw as she looked to Helena, then to Campbell. They had both stopped going to church a long time ago, and Cassandra had been the one to get religious-specific plays banned from school performances. Campbell didn't really believe or disbelieve anything, but he knew Cassandra and Helena had gotten into argument before about all sorts of things. LGBT rights, abortion, gun control... He could see that anger stirring up in Cassandra. It wouldn't be pretty if it got loose. Luckily, Luke seemed to sense the tension and butted in. "All right, look, Grizz and I will get a group together and we'll go hike out here through the woods, okay? Like a search party." Helena nodded. "I think that's a good idea." "Do you think it's safe?" Cassandra asked, frowning. "Yeah," Grizz replied, "sure." Luke tried to smile. "Grizz knows what he's doing. And if there's people out there, we gotta find them, right? You know. To get help." "I'm leaving." Harry got up off the car and headed towards the driver's door. His eyes were glassy, distant. It wouldn't be long before he imploded. "I'm hungry." Allie stood up, glaring. "You're leaving?" Campbell watched the bickering that followed, wondering when-- if at all-- they were going to ask his opinion. But he knew they wouldn't. They never did. If they would have shut the fuck up long enough to bother, Campbell would have told them that the horizon looked a little too clean for a West Ham summer. Too clear. He would have pointed out that there were no planes, no trails even, in the sky overhead. Wherever they were, chances were they were alone. Instead, he focused on his phone while everyone started arguing in full; Elle was trying to call. Can't talk now, he texted. At the bridge with Cassie and others. She replied quickly. Why? What's wrong? Not sure. All roads out of town are blocked. Blocked? We can't get out? Has anyone found our parents? Campbell rubbed his face with one hand. No, we can't. No adults or younger kids yet. Trying to figure out what to do. Oh. A long, long pause. Show me. Whatever was happening, Harry was officially done. His tone sharpened, and Campbell looked up to see him trying to collect Kelly. "You coming with, Kel?" He stood there, staring, when she shook her head. Ouch. Harry hadn't mentioned that they were on the rocks; he was being an unreasonable ass, though. Not a surprise. "Jesus christ, just get in the car." "Leave her alone," Will grumbled. "Hey, fuck off, Will." Harry looked to Campbell, seeking someone to follow him. Campbell just raised an eyebrow. Harry seethed, getting into his car and starting the engine. "Fine. Who gives a shit." He knew Harry would be mad at him for a while, but eventually he'd stop being a selfish prick and come around. Campbell needed to be there, to keep an eye on people and the situation; he needed to hear what was happening, and plan accordingly. If Cassandra couldn't keep herself together and all hell was going to break loose, Campbell needed to be ready. In the mean time... Cassandra blinked at him and he moved to her side, lifting his phone to take a picture of the blocked off tracks and road. "What are you doing?" "I'm just gonna send a text. Let everybody know how fucked we are." "Campbell!" she hissed. "Don't. Come on, let's think about this." But there was nothing to think about. Campbell pressed the send button, and his phone dinged in confirmation. He smiled at the look of horror on her face, sitting down on the sidewalk while he waited for Elle to reply; it wasn't often that he actually felt stronger than Cassandra, or even smarter, but it was one of those rare moments that he saw an opportunity and took it. Hiding the truth from people would only backfire. She'd thank him later, if she had the sense. Cassandra was still moaning over it. "Fuck. Why did you do that?" "Relax, Cassandra. I don't have many people on my contact list." "But they'll share it with their friends. It'll spread." "A slow, steady distribution of information is better than pretending things are fine." "Campbell--" "Look." Setting aside his phone, Campbell turned to Cassandra and held her gaze. "You, me, and like a dozen other people already know. How long do you think it'd be before one of them squealed, huh? Someone would let it slip, at some point. And if you go back into town, telling everyone it's all good when it's not, at some point they'll realize you lied. What do you think is gonna happen when three hundred teenagers stop trusting their student body president, Cassandra?" "I'm not student body president anymore. Harry said so, and it's true." "Harry's a shithead." "Then why are you friends with him?" "Not the point. You're one of the smarter people here. Gordie, Bean, Will, Grizz? They're amazing, but you were the closest thing to a leader we had back home. That doesn't just go away." Cassandra chewed on her lip. "I don't want to be a leader. I'm..." She pressed her hand to her chest. "I'm sick. What if I can't get my medicine?" "Tough shit," Campbell retorted. "Power is in your hands, and if you don't get a grip on it, someone else is going to put you in the dirt. All the medicine in the world won't help you if there's a fucking mutiny." "What do I do, then?" "These kids are gonna get scared, and they're either gonna look to you or they're going to challenge you. Pull yourself together." For a long time, Cassandra didn't speak. She sat next to him and gazed woefully at a small group of teens that were heading their way, some walking and others jogging. They were pointing at the road, and some began shouting. A few began to hover closer to her, looking nervous. "Well. Maybe you're right." "Usually am. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an acquaintance to console." Elle had arrived with the group, staring off the side of the bridge at the tracks. Other kids joined her nearby, and Campbell could hear them whisper as he approached. He was telling the truth. What does this mean? How is it possible? He ignored them, leaning against the railing next to Elle; she didn't look at him, but she leaned a little closer. "This is such bullshit," she said after a time. "What are we supposed to do?" Campbell shook his head. "Whatever is happening, if we're stuck with no way out, then we gotta do what you do in any survival situation. Secure resources. Shelter, food, water." "Should head to the store and grab some shit before people all get the same idea." "Probably, yeah." Elle glanced over at him. "You're pretty calm in all this." "Getting panicked or scared just means mistakes get made." He texted her a small list of supplies. "Go to the store. Bottled water. A lot of stuff can be frozen or dried. Get what you can, we'll figure out how to preserve it later." She nodded, turning and heading towards the closest market. Campbell waited for her to be out of earshot, then headed towards Cassandra, who was talking to Will and Sam. Everyone else seemed to have dispersed. They all glanced at him, but kept talking; Will was discussing the food situation, already, and Will specifically mumbled something about dehydrating and canning. Well, at least Will had some clue, then. "I saved a bunch of YouTube videos," he said, looking sheepish. "I always wanted to be a chef, so..." Campbell kept walking. They already were making plans; they didn't need him any, and he should go make sure that Elle was doing alright. He made it a few yards before Sam caught up to him, grabbing his sleeve to get his attention. "Where are you going?" Sam asked. "To get what I can." Campbell sighed at the way Sam's eyebrows knit together. There was no point in wasting time trying to explain, and besides, he had to make sure Sam wasn't gonna starve to death. "Coming?" There were a few different stores and markets in town, and while there was one close by, Campbell knew of a smaller one run by one of those doomsday prepper types. There wasn't as much variety there, but it did have gallon-sized bottled waters and things like powdered eggs. People went to it for camping supplies, but not much else; it wouldn't be the first place most would think to go to. Sam followed him inside, watching at Campbell began to fill a basket full of supplied. At least he didn't try and argue that it was theft or anything. "What are you getting?" "This is for you. A week of water. Jerky, nuts and seeds. Dried eggs. Dried fruit, some other shit. Keep it in the basement until you need it." "Why a week?" "Because if the utilities go and no one comes for us after a week, they're not going to." He didn't mean for the words to come out quite so grim, but it was useless to sugarcoat things any. "Keep using the water at home as long as you can. If it goes off, use this." Campbell grabbed some for himself, and they managed to weasel the baskets home without being seen. Probably because most of the other kids were at home crying or at the bridge by that point, who knew for sure. At least no one approached them. As they put shit away, Campbell made a list in his head of things in stores that would be in high demand. Toilet paper, first aid kits, batteries, medications, alcohol, anything for hygiene. Bleach, matches, lighters. And knowing his peers, condoms. If he got his backpack and headed out again, he could probably snatch a good stock before anyone else thought of it... Sam sunk onto the sofa once they finished. He tilted his head as Campbell got a couple backpacks, and made another list on his phone. "What are you going to do?" "I have some business to take care of." "Harry?" Maybe it was the comment itself, or maybe it was the eyebrow quirk of Sam's eyebrow, or some sort of tone his brother had. Either way, Campbell's mood soured on the spot. "Don't pretend like you know me." "I don't know you. That's what scares me." There was nothing to say to that, in the end. Campbell stormed out of the house, heading towards the pharmacy first. Most of what he wanted would be there, and the chances of anyone else being there already were slim. To his surprise, when he arrived, someone had already been messing with the lock; they hadn't managed to get in, whoever they were. Campbell slipped his lock picking kit from the backpack and made quick work of it. First was anything addictive, then meds that would be important. The pharmacy had a little book behind the counter that explained what everything was, and Campbell swept through as fast as possible to grab asthma medications, birth control pills, anti virals, whatever looked useful. He paused as he examined the shelves, seeing a prescription for Cassandra. Her heart meds. He tossed it into his backpack, and then found the rest of that medication and stole it, too. Harry's home was close by. Campbell headed there, knowing Harry would let him stash shit there until Campbell convinced Sam to get in line. When he knocked, though, no one answered. Sighing, Campbell found the hidden key Harry had made specially for him; the house was quiet when he came inside, with Harry nowhere in sight. He hid the backpacks in the attic first, then went hunting for his friend. "Harry? You were supposed to be here eating." A muffled sound came from the living room. Campbell found Harry laying curled up in a ball on the floor, under a blanket. "Hey, buddy. You don't look so hot." "Leave me alone, Satan," Harry slurred. "Are you high?" "Maybe." Campbell flopped onto the floor next to Harry, lifting up the blanket to peer in at him. "C'mon. Tell me. What'd you take?" "A xanax. From mom's medicine cabinet." A quick trip upstairs, to peek at the dose. Not worrisome, but definitely more than a beginner should take, and enough to knock Harry on his ass for several hours. Campbell went into the kitchen and made a can of soup. Harry's favorite, split pea with ham. He brought it to Harry and sat on the floor again, tempting Harry with it. Eventually, Harry crawled out from under the blanket and took the bowl. "She dumped me." Harry poked at the green mass. "Kelly. We found out her dad was screwing with my mom, and I don't know. She got pissed off at me." "You do stick your foot in your mouth regularly." "I didn't mean to make her mad. Now we're in this fucking nightmare world, and... what am I supposed to do? I can't do this alone." Campbell resisted the urge to gloat. He'd never really liked Kelly, anyways, and the feeling had been mutual. "Look, you two have been having problems for over a week now. This changes nothing." He reached over, snagging the spoon from Harry's hand and loading it up with soup. "Besides. You're not alone. You have me." Harry didn't fight as Campbell fed him the soup. "You know what I mean," he said through a bite. He suddenly stopped, swallowing and sinking his face into his hands. "Maybe you don't. Christ." "You're hung over and high. Eat your soup and we can talk later." He muttered under his breath, but Harry listened anyways. Campbell put on a movie, chilling while Harry ate; when Harry was done, he slumped against Campbell and fell asleep. Well, at least he couldn't panic if he was passed out cold. Hours passed. Harry eventually woke up enough to stumble into the shower and clean himself up, while Campbell made them grilled cheese sandwiches. Harry had just returned when their phones began to buzz. "It's from Cassandra." Campbell slid Harry a sandwich. "She wants us to get to the church as soon as possible." Harry shook his head. "Man, fuck her." "Quiet. She knows what she's doing." "Do you seriously believe that?" "Yeah, I do." Harry didn't say anything, but he tightened his jaw, and Campbell saw something in his eyes that planted another seed of worry. Rebellion. Fucking hell, it was starting already. Campbell headed towards the bathroom while Harry got dressed; it was a quick detour to the bedroom of Harry's parents, where Campbell knew Harry's mother kept a gun. The case wasn't locked. The ammo was right there. Thank fuck Harry never had the inclinations to kill anyone. Campbell made sure it was unloaded, then stuck the gun in his waistband and the ammo in his pocket, before heading back out. Harry was waiting on the porch, and they hopped in his car and made their way to the church. By the time they got there, people were starting to gather, but it was mostly empty still. Cassandra was standing by the water fountain, leaning against the brick wall and taking deep, slow breaths. Harry went on inside without waiting. Campbell hung back, sidling up to Cassandra when no one was paying attention. "I can't do this," she whispered. "I can't." Campbell nudged her shoulder with his own. "It's gonna be okay, somehow. If it makes you feel any better, I knocked over the drug store and stole you a few months worth of your heart meds." "You... What. No, no, nevermind. I don't want to know." "You're welcome. But seriously, just chill out. What are you even talking about?" Cassandra ran her hands through her hair. "Luke texted Helena. Helena texted me. We got ahold of everyone on the buses, but people all keep asking me what's going on. You were right. People are looking to me, and I don't know how to lead them." Campbell shrugged. "We're kids, okay? Most of us aren't used to living in the real world. They're gonna be worried about things like resources and safety. Guide them a bit towards ways to get or keep that, and they'll follow." "But why would they take my word for it? I have maybe five friends, Cam. There's over two hundred people coming, and I don't know how to trust them, or get them to trust me." Trust wasn't something Campbell was familiar with, but he knew no one would trust Cassandra if they saw her as weak. And if Cassandra didn't believe in herself, then weak was exactly how she'd come off. Cassandra had been tempered by her love for her family and friends. It was sweet, it was good, but sweet and good wasn't going to get shit done. The people in their town only understood wealth and power. But it was too late to talk more; dozens of people were heading their way, and Campbell knew better than to be seen lingering around Cassandra too long. He took a seat in the back, far from the Cassandra and her little herd. Sam was there, surrounded by Allie, Becca, Gordie, and Will. His actual, chosen family. Even Harry was up there, and Kelly. He felt a small stab of jealousy, but bit it back as soon as it reared its head. It'd do no good. "You could join them." Campbell glanced up at Elle's voice. She stood in the church aisle, watching him. "No, that wouldn't be a good idea. I don't want to be a public relations nightmare for my cousin." "Stay away from the alcohol, and you'd probably be fine." "Elle..." "No, Campbell, whatever you're about to say just don't bother. The best thing you can do is promise never to do that again, and then keep that promise, okay?" "I can do that." "Are you sure?" "Yeah." Campbell hesitated. He hated making promises, because he knew he could be unreliable and he hated breaking promises just as much, but Elle was worth the effort. "I promise." Crossing her arms, Elle looked down at the floor. "Alright. Well, Kelly invited me to sit with her. I'll let you know if they say anything good." She didn't wait for an answer. Elle peeked back at him as she headed up front; he tried to smile at her, and she didn't really smile back, but it was a start at least. Campbell turned his focus to the crowd in the church and their quiet whispers. Many were scared. A few were angry. Most just seemed confused. As time passed, they became restless. At least, that was until Cassandra stood, and began to speak. She stood in the center of the stairs leading to the podium. "Listen. Hey, listen up." Silence fell over the church. Cassandra continued, her voice shaking at first, but becoming louder and clearer as she carried on. "While we're all here, together, there are some things that we ought to figure out. Before we rip this place apart and maybe... you know, start hurting each other." She paused as quiet murmurs spread through the gathered students. "I don't know what the hell is going on. Maybe Luke will come back with some good news." Elle spoke first, her tone annoyed. "Maybe? Of course he will." "Yeah," Harry agreed. "Why don't we just wait and see, Cassandra?" Cassandra sighed. Her eyes darted to Campbell, for just a split second. "Because I would rather prepare for the worst before the worst happens." "What does that mean? Prepare?" Kelly wondered. "I don't know specifically, but I think it means we agree not to just take things when we want until all the food is gone and we starve." The murmurs turned into a panicked rumble. Campbell winced, but Allie, Clark, and Helena loudly agreed with Cassandra, and that seemed to quell the surge of fear... until Harry opened his goddamn mouth, just as Campbell knew he would. "This is bullshit." Will's back was to Campbell, but he could heard the disbelief in Will's voice. "Jesus, man, what is your problem?" "What are we agreeing to, Cassandra?" Harry turned to Cassandra, ignoring Will completely. Some of the students waiting in the pews began to yell in agreement with Harry. "Which one of us gets to decide who gets what? Your friends?" Becca let out a huff. "It's called democracy." "I'm not a fucking idiot, Becca." That was debatable, Campbell thought, but he kept quiet. At least for the time being, to see how things would play out. At least Cassandra seemed to have a handle on things, for the time being; Harry was getting flustered, especially when Cassandra brought out the coin she'd kept from the play. "How do you want to decide things?" she challenged. "Every person for themselves? Then we're back to where we started. Maybe you want to flip a coin to see who decides? You don't like democracy? How about random fucking chance?" Harry scoffed. "That's--" "Call it, Harry. Call it." "I'm not gonna do that." "Okay, okay. I'll call it for you. You get heads." Cassandra flipped the coin. "Tails. Still think it's unfair? Best two out of three. Oh! Tails." "I... I mean..." Cassandra flipped a third time, but this time, her face fell. "Tails." Harry looked frozen. The church had become so quiet, it was like no one was even breathing. Harry was thinking back to the play, and Campbell knew everyone else was, too. "Do it again." Four more times, Cassandra flipped the coin. Tails, tails, tails, tails. Harry stepped back from Cassandra, eyes wide. "Fuck." For a moment, Cassandra paused. She stared at the coin, and flipped it again; she closed her eyes, her hand over the coin for a long moment before she finally looked. "Heads." She held up the coin, and the crowd let out a long sigh of relief. She turned her attention back to them, lifting her voice once more. "It's all up to us. There's no civilization here, not until we start one. So what are we gonna do? First, I think we have no choice but to share. Share food, share resources." "Houses?" Harry asked. "Maybe." "Fuck you." Allie stood up. "Really? How much electricity do we have? Until it's all used up and everything goes dark? I think 225 people in 200 houses doesn't make sense." 239, but who was counting. "Keep what's ours!" some random fuckhole shouted from the other side of the church. "What is yours?" Cassandra questioned. "Do you have money? Who you gonna pay? The things that you need to live-- food, clothes, the stuff in stores-- no one owns them." Will and Harry erupted at one another over housing, and Campbell sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes. They were snapping and snarling, and the mood in the church was getting tense. Will on one side, arguing for Cassandra's view that there should be rules, organization, a method. Harry on his own side, screaming about how he should get to do whatever he wanted. Campbell understood. Harry was afraid, afraid of losing what was his and the comfy little life he had for himself. The big house and big bed and things were all he really had, in his mind. And well, men in general weren't great with sharing, were they? But Campbell knew history sided with people like Will and Cassandra. Capitalism, mine-mine-mine, greed. It never fared well in situations like the one they were in. No, they needed rules. They needed some sort of system, where everyone had an equal portion of things. And they had such a small, small window of time to get things going and working, before it all fell into chaos. Harry was yelling at Cassandra, getting ready to storm off like the entitled rich boy he was. Great. "I don't have to listen to this. Not anymore." "Harry, this has nothing to do with you," Cassandra snapped. "We need to--" "I don't need to do anything you say, you fucking--" Campbell had been busy loading the gun while the two argued, with the rest of the students starting to stand up and scream back and forth, too. He stood, pointed at the back wall's roof where it wouldn't hurt anyone, and fired a single round. The angry screams turned into screams of panic as everyone hit the floor. Some started crying, but everyone was staring at him, and no one was speaking. "Well..." Campbell took to the center aisle, walking towards his cousin. He had to act fast, before anyone recovered and tried to stop him. "Fuck this. Harry's right." Cassandra's mouth dropped open. "What?" "No one elected you king, cousin. Did anybody vote for her? Did they?" Campbell stopped in front of Cassandra and gestured to the cowering teenagers on the floor. "Anybody elect her to speak on your behalf? No?" "I... I don't want to be king." Campbell stared hard at Cassandra. She was stuttering. Oh, it wouldn't do at all for her to look like this in front of the people she was trying to rally. He cocked the gun again, but this time, he pointed it at Cassandra. There was no bullet left in the gun, but she didn't know that. No one did. "That's not what it looks like. Is it?" Allie jumped in front of her sister, glaring daggers at Campbell, but Cassandra gently brushed her aside. Something flickered to life in her eyes. Something courageous. Self-sacrificing. "I've thought a lot about dying. I've almost gotten used to that. But I don't like to be afraid." Cassandra looked down the barrel, then met Campbell's gaze. If she had any idea of the hand he was playing, she didn't give it away. She simply stood tall, steeling her voice and not flinching a bit. "Do you want chaos? Fucking shoot me." And there she was, the Cassandra he loved. Campbell chuckled, lowering the gun and giving her a little smile. "I don't want to shoot you. I wanted to get everybody's attention." Just one last part of the plan to put into place. "This meeting's obviously over. We'll be back when Luke gets here. Until then, if anybody else is tired of listening to her, you can follow me." Campbell turned and headed towards the door, knowing Cassandra would be watching and counting each and every person who left with him. She would know their names. Their faces. She would know exactly who was siding against her. Once he got to the exit, he glanced behind him. It was a good sign. Harry and Kelly. Seven others, of various genders. A tiny, tiny minority, and no threat to Cassandra at all. She would be safe. But then the church doors swung open with a bang, and Campbell fell back. Everyone did. Luke walked in, flanked by Grizz, Bean, Gwen, and the others that had gone out into the forest. In Luke's arms draped Emily's pale, limp body. Gasps and noises of despair rippled through the crowd, and everyone parted to allow Luke access to the table at the front of the room. Grizz cleared the table, and they all stood around, staring. Some started to cry. Some tried to check for her pulse. She was dead. It was clear the minute Luke came in. Campbell had never really known Emily, so he stayed near the door, letting everyone else have a chance to see her for themselves. Closure or whatever. "She died from a snakebite," Luke called out. "Her whole body just shut down. We did everything we could, but we couldn't save her." Grizz spoke when Luke sank to the floor. His voice was flat, cold. Practical. "So we're gonna bury her tomorrow, before it starts to smell. I'm gonna need a couple of guys..." "There's nothing out there, guys. Just a whole bunch of just... woods that go on forever. We're all alone. This isn't our home." This isn't our home. Those four words were all it took to shift everything. He looked to Sam, his thoughts already spinning. His little brother was huddled with Allie, Cassandra, and Becca, and Campbell could practically smell the fear on him. Alone. Sam didn't trust Campbell, and now they had to be alone together? They had to try and survive together? It wasn't going to work, not like this, especially when-- not if, but when-- things started getting cutthroat. Campbell was too bitter, too hateful, and he knew he wouldn't be able to handle the stress of worrying about them both. Especially if Cassandra expected people to start sharing houses. There was no way Campbell could do it. He would hurt someone, at some point. In the end, it was for Sam's own good. Campbell knew he, at some point, would snap. He would destroy Sam. He wouldn't want to, or even mean to. But if they were on their own, trapped, it'd be like too many rats in too small a cage. They'd turn on each other someday, and Campbell knew he would always save himself, without hesitation. Sam deserved better than that. So... Campbell eyed Cassandra and Allie as they walked past, heading to their home. They had already opened their home to Will. Safety in numbers, right? And Cassandra loved Sam. Allie was protective of her family. Sam trusted and loved them, too. They could keep him safe. They would take care of him, and sacrifice their own needs for him if it came down to it. They could be the home Sam needed, even if it was just for a little while. Campbell just had to hope that Sam was angry enough inside, hurt enough by years of distrust and backbiting between them, that he'd be happy to leave. He grabbed Sam's arm as Sam followed after their cousins. Campbell kept his face calm, his voice neutral. Maybe it would be simple. No need to get nasty about it, if Sam would go willingly. "Hey. Don't come home tonight." Sam tensed. There was hurt in his eyes, and the smallest glint of stubbornness. He was angry, but not angry enough. Not yet. "It's my house, too." Campbell studied Sam's face, choosing to dig a little deeper. Something more painful was going to be needed, obviously. "Ever since you were born, I never had just one day that was mine, until now." It was the truth, anyways. It had been the Sam Show from day one, and it was no secret that Campbell resented Sam for it. "Alright?" Sam stared Campbell down, not saying a word. Not at first. Finally, he shook his head. His voice was low. Pained. But he didn't look away from Campbell, not even a little bit. "No." So, that's how it was going to be. "Give me the key, you little fag." He had never called Sam that before, or anything like it. He'd busted plenty of people's lips for less. It felt dirty on his tongue, but it was the one thing that Campbell knew would hurt Sam past the point of forgiveness. And if that didn't work... Campbell shot his hand out and scruffed Sam like a petulant kitten, digging his fingers hard into the back of Sam's neck. "Give me the key." Shock was the first emotion that crossed through Sam's expression. Campbell had never laid his hands on Sam before, either. He'd never needed slurs or physical violence before. But persuasion wasn't working, and maybe shock was exactly what Campbell needed to bring Sam's rage to the surface. It worked like a charm; the fury finally arrived, hurt transforming into a deep, crushing hatred. It was the same hatred that Campbell had seen in Sam the night Oliver was found dead, and fuck, it wasn't what Campbell wanted to see. But it had to happen now, before it happened later. Before Sam got hurt worse. Sam handed over his key to the house, then shoved Campbell hard and walked away. Campbell watched him go. Sam didn't look back. Good. It stung more than Campbell had expected, in some weird, dull way, but it was necessary. Wasn't it? Sam would be with Allie and Cassandra, where it was warm and welcoming and loving. Campbell would be on his own, away from anyone he could easily hurt, with time and space to figure shit out. When he got home, it was dark. He turned on the lights, turned on some music. There was cold cheese pizza still in the fridge; he ate it, not bothering to heat it up first. It was late, and he was tired, but there was a restlessness in him that wouldn't let him sleep. He ended up standing in the living room a bit past midnight, with the lights turned off and just a little bit of moonlight streaming in through the windows. He'd turned off the music, and it was quiet. Perfectly quiet, like he'd always fantasized about. No one to interrupt him, no one to scold or condemn him or look at him funny, or bother him with questions or requests, no one to have to pretend around. Happy, relaxed, carefree... Quarantined. Campbell sat in the middle of the living room sofa, emptiness settling over his shoulders like a frigid, heavy blanket. For the first time in years, he cried.

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