𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟓𝟑

trigger warning!

heavy mention of ill mental health towards the end of this chapter. i can't say anything in grave detail as you're reading this, but please proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such topics.

sending all my love & guidance,— nina

CHAPTER FIFTY THREEhide & seek

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SIRENS CONTINUED BLARING outside as Rafe and I prolonged our pit stop at my house. Originally, I only planned to grab the books and get the hell out of here, but our exhaustion clearly had other plans. We were tired physically and mentally, and in no way able to drive to our getaway place.

The both of us sat in silence on my bed, cradled in his arms whilst trying to calm myself down. I was experiencing fear like never before, each police car that passed presenting a chance that they'd be inching closer in my direction. My freedom was wearing down by the minute, wasting away along with the remainder of my happiness.

Rafe's hands trembled as they ran up and down my arm, somehow still providing comfort like he intended. There was no denying that we were both scared out of our minds, unable to form words that would reassure the other. Reassurance couldn't be present in such a situation; both of us knew there wasn't hope for a happy ending after tonight and saying otherwise would just be a lie.

Adding to my constant jolts, his phone vibrated in his pocket, the buzzing feeling against my thigh resulting in us turning to look at each other. I silently nodded for him to pick up the call, resulting in compliance despite his unspoken doubt.

"Yeah?" Rafe's voice cracked, nervous as he spoke to whoever was on the other side of the screen.

"Rafe, where the hell are you?" I recognised Ward on the loudspeaker.

On top of everything, his father was the last person we wanted to face. It was no longer a secret that he was the one who framed me for Peterkin's murder, his actions adding to the pre-eminent hatred the boy had for him. I screwed my eyes shut while the sirens became increasingly louder, unable to keep calm with the continuous chaos of my surroundings.

"Uh, I was at a party in Chapel Hill. Did I not tell you?" the trembling of his hands was amped up.

"No, I know that. I'm asking where you are now." Ward proceeded with his stern tone, making me realise that the reason for his call wasn't out of concern for his son.

"I'm on my way home." Rafe lied.

"Where?" the man shouted again.

He struggled to form another fictional answer, "I don't know, on the highway?"

"I can hear that you're not driving. Are you with Camille?"

I shook my head profusely at him, encouraging him to lie further for the sake of averting Ward's anger. Mustering up an alibi to our whereabouts was the last thing we were stable enough to do, but nothing mattered considering time wasn't on our side.

"N-no. I'm not." he stuttered. "I don't know where she is."

"Shoupe's been keeping me informed on the search." the man started, "Apparently someone phoned in and said they saw her going into her house. He's on the way there as we speak, are you sure you're not with her?"

Our eyes widened as soon as he gave insight into what was going on behind the scenes, presenting an immediate explanation to the overly loud sound of cop cars around us. The end of our short-lived escape was looming sooner than we would've wanted, and now there was nowhere else we could possibly run.

This was it; this was bound to be the end of us.

"I told you I'm not with her! I need to go." Rafe panicked, hanging up the phone before Ward had a chance to say anything else.

I launched up from the bed out of stress, beginning to pace up and down the room as if I was searching for some sort of quick escape. My hyperventilation resumed with each stride I took, bringing my hands up to my hair and tugging at the roots. Stress brought an overwhelming need for me to inflict pain upon myself, knowing that was the only way I ever managed to gain control of my spiralling.

Rafe followed in my lead, stopping in the path of my steps and pulling me back into his arms. He clutched onto my wrists, breaking my hands away from my head and holding them close to his chest. If it was even slightly possible, I had less self-control than before, crying out every last bit of my worry against his shirt. The persistent blares outside pushed more tears out of my eyes, flooding my cheeks and tightening the invisible rope around my throat that made it all the more hard for me to form a stable breathing pattern.

"I need to escape." I mumbled, "I need to get out of here. Rafe, I can't live like this anymore. I need to escape."

He placed his chin on top of my hair, "Shh, Cami. I love you. I love you, don't say that."

"I love you too." I sobbed.

"I know you do. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put you through this." he sounded like he was close to tears himself, making me cry even more.

"But, I can't— I can't keep going on like this. You heard what they said, the cops are coming for me." a sudden knock on the front door matched my words, causing me to breathlessly look back at him. "Rafe..."

Aware that our moments alone were up, he took hold of my wrist again and dragged us both out of the room. After darting his sight around the hallway, Rafe remembered the location of the bathroom, swiftly slamming the door behind us. My lack of composure and focus meant he had to take all responsibility in order to keep us hidden- something I'd obviously have to thank him for if given the chance.

"Camille, open up!" Shoupe's shout could be heard from the porch, "We know you're in there."

"Okay," Rafe cupped either side of my tear-ridden face, "I need you to trust me right now. Just remember that I love you, and I'll do anything to keep you safe."

His repeat of the phrase made my stomach turn over, a gut feeling appearing that told me we weren't going to be okay. My chest didn't stop rising for a split second, still scrambling for the chance that I'd stabilize my breathing. I nodded quickly so Rafe could continue whatever plan he'd formed, regretting my quick response as he frantically dragged us into the shower.

Checking to ensure I was backed up against the tiled wall, he covered our hiding spot with the curtain, relying entirely on the single sheet of fabric to mask our location. The ear-piercing thuds that came from the front room brought my sobs to a higher volume, silenced as he pressed our lips together whilst we still could.

Different to all our previous kisses, this one felt more like a kiss goodbye than out of love. We were back to keeping ourselves secret similarly to the beginning of this summer, now aware that it was an obligation rather than a choice. Snapping us out of the connection, Shoupe had lost all sense of patience and swung open the entrance to the house, the need for silence on my part being fulfilled as Rafe fastened his hand around my mouth.

My bottom lip quivered under his touch, muffled weeps breaking through the cracks of his fingers and filling the silent room. I was crying more than I believed to be possible, acid rain pouring out from my tear ducts and blistering both mine and Rafe's skin. The pad of his fingers swiped under my swollen eyes, aiming to wipe away the wet stains yet failing as the downpour resumed. Realising his efforts were proven useless, he rested his forehead against mine, unable to look at my broken state any longer and crumbling from just watching me suffocate in fear.

"I knew Pogues were junkies, but I think this takes the cake." Shoupe's faint speech could be heard a few doors away, "It fuckin' reeks in here, you'd think someone died."

"Someone did a few years back. Charlie Fox, remember? The addict who used to work down at the junkyard. I'm not even surprised that this is how his daughter turned out." a woman joined in on the conversation, her false perception of my father adding anger to my flux of emotions.

"Seems like some people are better off dead." he laughed, "Camille, we don't have all day! You can't hide forever."

His phrase became ingrained into my mind, echoing to taunt my current actions. Our time in partial safety was decreasing with each step they took, inevitably leading up to the moment where my wrists would be fastened around my back with handcuffs, taking me off to face the wrath I seemed to deserve. Everyone in Kildare had thought of me as a criminal, worthy of whatever karmic punishment I was bound to receive.

When you're in an environment where you're surrounded by a certain recurring reputation, you begin to feel the same way about yourself. It no longer mattered if Peterkin died by my shot or Rafe's, it mattered that I was the one that'd pulled the short stick of blame. His innocence was my duty to cover up, and maybe being found was the right way to do so.

One of us had to take the repercussions of the fall- better it be me than him.

"You take that room, I'll take this one. Don't be afraid to shoot, we don't know what she's capable of." the deputy sheriff proceeded, leaving us in the dark as to which door they'd next open.

"For Susan." the woman said as she presumably entered my bedroom.

"For Susan."

My palms clung onto Rafe's forearm, keeping a grip so strong that I feared my nails would begin to break his skin. The cold tiles burned through the woollen cardigan draped over my back, adding goosebumps onto the reasons as to why I was trembling. I could feel his erratic breaths on my face, understanding his side of the stress without words needing to be spoken. By nature, I valued his stability over my own, urging myself to find ways to comfort him though the idea was ridiculous at a time like this.

Trails of smudged mascara tainted my cheeks, posing as a final memory of my blind happiness at the start of the night. I was so stupidly excited to go to that Goddamned party, unknown to both of us that it would've later placed us where we were now. Deceitful judgement was an idea I was all too familiar with, yet nothing stopped it from hurting every time it played out.

After everything I'd dealt with in my days on this twisted Earth, hurting became part of my daily routine. A part that I enjoyed, regardless of how that may sound to others. I was structured around every mistake of my own or of others', weaponizing the pain presented to me and taking it like a drug to preserve my manic mentality. It reached such length that I began to wonder who I'd be if I wasn't constantly mistreated. Would I have been at peace if everything that happened didn't?

Could I have ever been at peace?

"She's not here!" the female officer confirmed.

"Not here either." Shoupe copied, "I swear if that call was a false lead—"

"There's one more door, we can't give up now."

Rafe took in a deep breath before retreating from our connection, my eyes immediately opening with confusion. A look of remorse was painted across his irises, piercing into mine like a thousand cuts to the skin. He removed his hand from its clasp on my mouth, drowning the area with kisses of desperate nature. He cradled me as if it wounded him to do so, wasting the oxygen in his lungs on the magnetic connection of our lips.

Realization struck like a ricocheting bullet as he slowly stepped back, holding onto the shower curtain as he mouthed an apology.

"What are you doing?" I asked silently.

He closed his eyes, not able to bear the sight before him, "I need to go. You need to let me go."

"What? No. No, don't leave." I whimpered under my breath, "Rafe, where are you going?"

"Please stay quiet. Please, I've got this under control." he shook his head, cracks becoming apparent in his voice.

"Don't- don't leave. Don't leave me here. I love you. I love you, okay? Don't go." I repeated the phrase like a prayer rather than a plea, as if any God out there could hear our suffering and finally decide to grant us mercy. "I love you, Rafe."

"You shouldn't."

"But I do. Don't act like you don't love me too. Don't do this right now, not like this." I begged, willing to try anything to keep him by my side.

"I do love you, which is why I'm doing this. If you love me, you'll let me do this for you. I'm sorry, it's for the better."

He flashed one last tear-eyed look in my direction as he exited from behind the curtain. Our final exchange of wordless contact was bound to be carved into my memory, like the engraved words on a dead lover's gravestone. I held out hope that he was playing some twisted joke on me, that he'd return seconds later with the grin I'd grown to love spread across his lips.

I was wrong.

The door lock clicked shut, and the sound alone made my ears want to bleed.

He left.

He left me.

'For the better', but how could life even be remotely better without him?

It couldn't, and it wouldn't, and it won't.

My body collapsed unto itself, dropping down to the floor of the shower and giving out unabridged. The pace of my breath sped up faster than ever before, losing all sense of existence now that he was gone. Every willing bone in my body was focused on preventing myself from throwing up again, the emptiness that overcame me being served with a venomous side of nausea. Not a single amount of trust could gloss over what he'd just done, no pathetic explanation of a plan being worthy of the suffering I was forced to endure all alone.

"Don't shoot!" Rafe shouted, the sound of his words solely driving a stake into my heart, "I'm not the person you're looking for."

"Rafe?" Shoupe exclaimed out of confusion, "What are you doing here?"

"I was, um, driving past when I saw Camille here. I tried to chase after her but she's gone. She's not here." he exhaled.

"Are you sure? God, why didn't you say something earlier? I could've killed you." the man sighed, exasperatedly believing the excuse.

"I checked every room, guessing you did too. She must've heard the sirens and ran."

Shoupe's partner chimed in again, "There's a tropical storm on its way. C'mon, let's get him to the SBI tent whilst the roads are still clear."

"The SBI are on the case? What— why do you need me to be involved?" his words were shaken, bearing the same effect on me as I had to fix my hands over my mouth to keep myself quiet.

"Well, you're the last solid eyewitness we have. Peterkin needs all the help she can get, son."

"Right, Peterkin." I could tell the thought of his actions had returned, hints of regret in the way he spoke to show he knew he was the cause behind my position.

The house floorboards creaked, followed by the closing sound of the front door. Now that it was a fact that I was completely solitary, I buried my face against the wall, releasing the throat-stabbing scream I'd kept buried for as long as I could. My strength had been drained after the life or death game of hide and seek, limpness engulfing my body whole like a tidal wave.

I laid on the bleak bathroom floor for what I could guess was hours, my mind as empty as my eyes were now that I'd cried out each and every tear they stored. Torturously, I remembered the exact moment where I'd found May in a mirroring state. The lifeless touch of her iced skin and the attempt of picking up her deadweight all came rushing back to me, holding out for the return of the person who helped me that night; Rafe.

The highest and lowest points in my lifetime all occurred because he urged them too. Somehow, I was left with an overwhelming love for him, a feeling so suffocating that I wanted it to personify, take my throat into its figmented hands, and drain out my lungs until I was left for dead. Our kiss goodbye stayed tattooed on my lips, the ink of choice being the blood of our shared memories. Rafe's skin was a needle, repeatedly pricking mine until I was wholly covered and coated in his marks.

He made me his own, and abandoned me out of the very reason I chose to stay.

It wasn't like there weren't times before where I hadn't wished for death. The thoughts were present more so than not, but never at such intensity that I'd be brave enough to go through with them. Everything had changed once he came and went, and the loneliness I was forced to face was increased to a point where it was simply unliveable.

Through the course of my life and later our relationship, I was always buying time until I was a body and not a person. The alcohol I'd drink to drown out my sorrows should've taken me as a casualty first and not May; after all, I was the one deservant of death.

She was first to move on from my dad's overdose, proving that she'd make the most of her life while I was stuck frozen in the mentality of that day. All the resentment I had for her joy was evidently out of my own selfishness, jealous that she had the ability to grow out of what the universe dealt us.

The only thing I was able to come to terms with was what I needed to do, the plan of my escape outlined in explicit detail. I no longer cared for the hurt I might cause others; they had their fun damaging me throughout my living years, so they could curse me all they wanted for how I chose to sign it off.

This is how I've chosen to sign it off.

Word upon word detailing my life has now been spilled out onto these pages, considerably harmonious that I've written them in the journals gifted by my late father. Read over them if you so wish, though I doubt my days contain anything worthy of your attention.

My time is up, and I give anyone reading this the permission to rejoice. I'll make sure to look up from my seat in hell with a smile, knowing that I've finally acquired the happiness I seeked for so long.

Miserable girls are happy in the afterlife, and I'm on my way to be the happiest I've ever been. I'd say I'm sorry for what I'm about to do, but that would be furthest from the truth.

So, instead, I'll say you're welcome.

We all know I'm doing everyone a favour.