I dreamed of Cameron again last night. I was at a hospital in Mexico with a couple of co-workers when Cameron, who had been hunting me, finally found me.
She shot me 21 times in the torso when she ran out of ammo, and I lifted my gun to shoot her in her human head. When I couldn't, she was perplexed, and wanted to know why I didn't retaliate after she had caused me so much damage.
I had to admit to her I loved her.
She lowered her weapon in understanding.
I was patched up - surprised that I survived so many bullets, but it left my chest terribly scarred - something I wore with a badge of honor and would show anyone who asked when they saw Cameron and I shopping together in the Anna Brookshire's six months later.