𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒𝟗

trigger warning!

this chapter contains mentions of self harm & other suicidal tendencies

i strongly encourage you to skip over the beginning of the chapter if needed & to visit the resources i've linked to my profile if you are in need of help with such issues

please read with care— nina xx

CHAPTER FOURTY NINE pillowtalk

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WALKING THROUGH THE empty halls of Tannyhill had me feeling like more of a ghost than I already believed myself to be. Obeying his father's orders, Rafe locked himself away in the shower, the barren room he left behind meaning I hadn't yet gotten the chance to tell him about the plan that played out like I prayed for it to.

I was meant to run back to his arms, reassure him and me that all would be okay, and fall asleep to that false yet comforting fact.

Of course, nothing was proven to be in our favour today, so strolling around the Cameron family mansion with just a cigarette pack and my last shred of dignity didn't come as a surprise. I'd followed the same routine countless nights before I met Rafe, the behaviour I exhibited being a consequence of the miserably familiar cycle of torture that'd recently resumed.

I guess you can say old habits die hard.

The dim moonlight beamed its way through panes of glass, illuminating my path to the kitchen and inevitably the outdoor patio. Not a single light in the house even dared to flicker, everyone seeming to either be asleep or roped up in their own story. Despite the obvious lack of human presence around me, my eyes darted to each doorway in attempts to assure I was alone.

Once my assumptions were set in stone, I paced back and forth in the direction of any cabinet I could find, desperate to find any bottle that could soothe my destitute of intoxication. Searching for a decent alcoholic beverage in this house was quite literally like scouring for a needle in a haystack- the hay in this case being endless sums of whiskey.

Thankfully, my grip eventually fixed around the neck of a bottle of Bordeaux wine, the screw cap becoming swiftly replaced with my pursed lips. Expensive wine was never my drink of choice- that title was reserved only for peach liqueur- but I'd take practically any road in order to get myself wasted.

My gulps continued as I blindly stepped out onto the patio, leaning my back against the cold exterior walls and dropping down to cross my legs. Taking a final sip of the drink, I moved my focus to the cigarettes I'd tightly clutched through my entire journey. I propped the stick in between my teeth, having to flick the lighter several times before a solid flame met the end.

I kept the fire alight as I exhaled my first drag, hovering my hand over the warmth and seemingly taunting myself with what was to come. It wasn't like I was even attempting to prevent the destruction I associated with coping; I'd gotten used to my methods for so long that I nearly didn't feel like the same me without them.

Now thinking about it, who have I become?

Unsurprisingly, my life had been anything and everything except normal for as long as I could remember. A suicidal father and eventually alcoholic mother weren't exactly the role models children dreamed of, but there was once a time where I wasn't an exact byproduct of their worst qualities.

Or maybe I was forever destined to turn into them, and was good enough at suppressing the genes I inherited for most of my years.

I wonder what scolding phrase May would throw in my direction if she could see me now. She was no stranger in comparing me to my dad, claiming that the sole traits we shared were physical. Little did she know that I'd grow to have the same addictions as her, even if my thought process was still entirely the work of what I learned from Charlie.

My mind and my body were both a maze, working together with the most violent intent to inevitably bring me to my end.

I signed off on my mental spiral with a combination of smoke and wine, continuing to hold the cigarette with my teeth as my fingers pulled back any fabric covering my ankle. My subconscious choice of the area I'd rediscover every time I was trapped in my internal suffering was proving to be my enemy, the surface I managed to keep hidden for so long now being coated to its entirety with circular scars.

There was no other choice for me but to move my attention to the other leg, copying the same buildup of bitter treasures on a new strip of skin. My placement had been calculated from the beginning: wrists were too obvious, thighs would also be a giveaway, and no one pays close enough attention to ankles.

That's excluding the deeply perverted, but thankfully I hadn't had any encounters with such people.

I was ready to press the smouldering tip of the stick against my body with no remorse, not even bothering to bite down on my lip to ease the pain that'd follow. Acceptance was all I had left in me after today; accepting that things were fucked up, and that I was fucked up.

"If you're gonna smoke, can you not leave the door open?" the recognisable voice of Sarah appeared on the patio, causing me to immediately toss the object in my fingers onto the ground, "the whole house stinks 'cause of you."

I rolled my eyes as she came closer in my direction, hoping that my impending plans were easily concealed, "They're not even my cigarettes, they're your brother's."

"Rafe doesn't smoke," she scoffed, "besides, you're the one out here, not him. Dad told me you two are supposed to keep your distance, at least you're sticking to one rule around here."

"Didn't know Kook families had rules." I laughed shortly, the reminiscence of my home life still being a fresh wound.

"I mean, stealing's more of a law enforcement thing but, nothing really stops you does it?" she glanced down at the bottle I'd picked up again, "Dad's gun and Rose's wine? You're really treating yourself."

"Why are you even here? Guessing you came to tell me off for the smell, but that's been said, so what's keeping you in my company?" I refused to look up to where she stood, keeping my vision stuck on the glow of the moon.

"I wanted to ask you a question." she spoke with innocence, making me think there was more to her act than what she was letting up.

"Don't waste my time."

"Why are you even with Rafe?" Sarah didn't hold back on her bullshit interrogation, another laugh leaving my lips which I masked by pressing the bottle against them.

"That doesn't concern you. You can deliberate the answer to that with your boyfriend and his friends, I'm sure they'll fill you in." I replied with a bitter tone.

"Look, I know we don't see eye to eye, but I know my brother. Especially after today, I don't see whatever you're seeing in him." she lied indirectly, as I knew more than anyone that Rafe wasn't the same person he'd present himself to be.

"I don't see what John B sees in you, but at least one of us knows not to ask questions that they have no business in." I raised my eyebrows and finished off what was left of the wine, knowing no amount of alcohol could put me in a state where I'd want to face Sarah.

"He shot someone, and you helped him. Camille, I didn't know you before, but you've changed. Whatever's going on with him isn't good for you, everyone can see that. Your friends did what they did because they care, and they still talk about you. I know they'd take you back if you finally saw that Rafe isn't good for you. We don't get along, whatever, but I'm coming to you as his sister and telling you to get away from him."

"Do you know why I helped him?" I raised my volume to a bordering shout, angered by her self-glorifying speech, "'Cause I've never had someone care for me like he does. Sure... maybe he isn't the greatest of people, but neither am I! I'm sorry that I wanted one person on this hell of an island to be by my side no matter what. Making him out to be some supervillain doesn't change the fact that he makes me happy. Okay? There's your fucking answer. I'm with Rafe 'cause he makes me happy. Now, goodnight and go fuck yourself, Sarah. Shove your caring shit up the ass of someone who cares."

I rose to my feet and picked up all my belongings off the floor, shooting a sour glance in the girl's direction and preparing to carry my now-drunk self back to Rafe's room. This day had been way too eventful for my liking, and it was safe to say I was tired after everything.

"Don't cuss me out 'cause I'm looking out for you!" she shouted back, "What, d'you think it's gonna be you two against the world? Wait 'till he makes you mad and you end up bleeding on the floor. Who's gonna save you then?"

My feet paused in the doorway, allowing me a moment to tuck the cigarette pack into my pocket and free one of my hands. I dug my teeth into my bottom lip as I turned around, connecting my palm directly with the skin of her cheek in a blur of drunken anger. The burn that came with the hit was more rewarding than the burn that cigarettes brought, as I'd resorted to my defensive ways of hurting others instead of myself.

Again, another quality earned from mother dearest.

"Sleep on your left side tonight," I slurred, watching her clutch her face in agony, "I think the right might sting."

"Fine, you're made for each other. Is that what you wanna hear?" Sarah cried out as I left the patio, receiving nothing but my middle finger as a response.

Her concluding statement was one of the only things she was right about when speaking to me. I'd been aware of it on countless occasions, but having her speak it into existence helped solidify the belief that I was made for Rafe. Loving him led to me being molded fully into his life; I did whatever he did and didn't find any space for complaint in that.

The idea of loving someone and possibly being loved back for once had been a desperate craving of mine ever since I had any concept of what life was. I'd seek attention in hopes that having eyes on me at all times would make up for that need, yet all I needed was to find the right person to cherish more than existence.

He was the right person, and I was committed to loving him until it was the reason for my final breath.

Not finding the strength to function without him any longer, I stumbled in the direction to his bedroom, the stairs I had to drag myself up somehow posing as more of an obstacle than the 2 feet that could barely hold me up. By some sort of miracle, I reached the doorway of his room in one piece, checking the halls prior to my entrance.

Rafe's head snapped towards me as soon as the lock clicked shut, a look of relief and longing falling upon his features the second he realised it was me. He tore away from his reflection in the mirror and snaked his arms tightly around my lower torso, almost pulling me off my feet with the force he used. I silently copied his actions, holding my palm to the back of his head and burying his face in the crook of my neck.

His lips peppered several kisses on whatever inch of skin I had exposed, trailing from my ear to my cheek and eventually my lips. Our height difference was never a bother to me when sober but, considering I was anything but that, attempting to reach up to him on my toes ended in a loss of balance.

"Hey, steady on." he kept me up by my hips, laughing lightly as I failed to stand straight, "You okay?"

"I'm great." I lied in response to the question like I'd been used to doing, "Though, Sarah decided to pay me a little visit, and you can guess how that went. I swear, I'm gonna put a fucking bullet through her skull next."

"Have you been drinking?" he noticed.

"Just a bottle. I'm fine, really." I pressed my lips to his again, admiring his appearance once I pulled back, "Your hair."

"What about it?"

"You parted it down the middle, like I taught you to. See, I told you it looks better." I ran my fingers through his sandy brown strands, smiling at the effort he'd taken to alter his looks based on my word.

"Maybe I'm just tired of the gel." he smirked in an attempt to cover up his sappiness.

"Thank God." I teased, "I'm tired in general, you don't mind me sleeping in this shirt, do you?"

"Wear something of mine. I'd rather you sleep in nothing, but my clothes are the next best option." he crept behind me the second I turned around, resuming the path his lips were taking previously.

I breathed in at the feeling of him applying more pressure to my neck, "I forgot to tell you, Wheezie's sleeping in my room tonight, and she made me promise that she won't hear us again."

"I know," he said between kisses, "she came in and told me when you were downstairs. I guess you're just gonna have to be quiet, though we both know how much you love screaming my name."

Resisting Rafe's aim of making me weak, I peeled away from his touch and rid myself of any material that still clung to my skin, leaving only the striped navy t-shirt I retrieved from a nearby pile of clothes and the torturous piece of lace I knew he'd rip off me if given the chance.

"I'm not that easy," I shook my head as he expected me to return back to his arms, "and, I wanna sober up first. That wine made me feel disgusting."

I let my body sink into his bed, taking the left side like usual. The comforter draped over my legs whilst he occupied the other side, immediately leaning closer so I could rest on his shirtless chest.

"Y'know, if you told anyone else that, I think they'd laugh in your face." Rafe tangled his index around a piece of my hair, tucking it behind my ear and repeating the same cycle. "That you're not easy."

I rolled my eyes, the action coated more with affection than frustration, "Where did that rumour even come from? It's like I woke up one day to half of Kildare suddenly calling me a skank. I guarantee you that any guy could sleep with the same amount of people as me and no one would bat an eye."

"How many people have you slept with?" he inquired, "Let's compare numbers, fuck it."

"Are you serious?" I giggled, met with a nod in response, "Okay. My body count is 32, from what I can remember."

"Jesus Christ, I thought 19 was bad. And you really wonder where the rumours come from."

"Oh, shut up. 32 over the span of like 4 years isn't that crazy." I playfully punched his arm, stopping after his retaliation knowing that things were bound to escalate had I continued.

"Wait, you had your first time when you were 13?" he asked with sudden concern.

"14." I corrected, "That year was crazy. I was growing up way faster than I should've been and, I dunno, some part of me still thinks that's normal. Anyway, virginity's something that was constructed just so guys have something else to brag about when it comes to women, so who cares?"

"That was the year your dad..." he hinted, to which I nodded, "Shit."

"We really know so little about each other." I stated truthfully.

My head rolled over so I was at eye-level with his face, gazing lustfully at the grin that blessed his lips. Seeing him smile after so long was a pure ray of sunlight in our dark days. For the longest time, I'd fixated on the idea that he was a cold person, and that anything about him was equally iced. I was proven wrong when watching him now, as I'd never seen a smile so warm.

"Stop looking at me like that." his cheeks flushed rose, "C'mon, I'll answer anything you wanna know."

"Anything?" I searched for confirmation.

"Everything."

Hours passed as we continued throwing back and forth questions, the queries ranging from favourite colours to darkest memories. The most I'd ever opened up to someone was that moment; I'd finally come clean about my tragic birthday and felt nearly relieved doing so. A weight was lifted off my shoulders with each confession, leaving behind a clean slate for my life to start over with Rafe being the primary focus.

I ran my fingers along the outline of his muscles, delicately hovering over the surface as he answered something I asked about his college experience, "There's actually a dorm party happening tomorrow. I've told you about Conrad, he texted me earlier. It'd be weird since I dropped out—"

"We should go." I chimed back into the conversation.

"You sure? My college friends have wanted to meet you for ages, they'll love you." Rafe smiled once more.

"I don't need friends when I have you, but I never turn down a party." I said with a hint of laughter, "Your turn to ask me something."

"Where do you see us in like... 10 years?" he caressed my upper arm, accidentally rolling up the sleeve of the t-shirt with his hand.

"Us? Like together?" I tried to catch him out on his choice of phrasing, his immediate smirk proving that it was intentional.

"Well, it's not my question to answer but I don't see a future with anyone else. You're the only thing I see when I picture my life." he explained his defeat.

"That's really corny." I teased.

"I'm serious."

A small sigh came from my lips as I tried to configure a plan for my future. In all honesty, I hated thinking about the days to come, and more so about what other hell my mind had in store for me. The future was dark in my eyes, and his picture perfect ideal of us wasn't something I wanted to wreck with the reality of my mental flaws- partly because I wanted to believe I'd even last 10 years from now.

I exhaled quickly, "I definitely wanna leave this island for good one day. Like... run away with nothing and never come back. I hate everyone here, a fresh start would be nice. It'd be funny if I disappeared for good and people thought I died, it'd actually be hilarious if people started crying."

"And I'll come with you. We'll be like Romeo and Juliet if their plan worked out. So, tell me, where does our future take us?" Rafe cradled my face in his hands, unable to keep his lips parted from mine even for the sacrifice of conversation.

"I like the cold." I recalled, "Maybe we can go somewhere up north, maybe..."

"Quebec." he rushed to finish my sentence.

"Where's that?" I furrowed my eyebrows, my lack of geographical knowledge setting me back.

"It's a French speaking province in Canada."

"And you learned French in 9th grade, that's perfect." I interrupted to gloat at the one fact I managed to remember. "I dunno why, but I can see you working in a library. You like books, it suits you." his confused look was the reason behind my justification, the explanation understood by him with a nod.

"You'll be a wine connoisseur." Rafe proceeded, pausing his words the second he noticed my doubt.

"Really? That's one way to call me an alcoholic." I joked.

"You like your drinks, it suits you." he reused my phrase in order to turn it against me, to which I only laughed.

"If I had one right now, I'd toast to our future." my hand lifted from resting on his shirtless torso, mocking the action of raising a glass.

Rafe knocked my hand out of the air, pinning it to my side as he moved my body fully on top of his. My legs parted over his sides, the only support I had now being my arms that kept me slightly elevated above him.

"We don't need drinks, cheers to a lifetime with you in Quebec." he gathered my hair to one side, lacing his hand in the back of my head so it was easier for our lips to crash together.

My forehead pressed to his as the kiss faded out, regaining any touch that our position would allow. There was no need for me to fake a smile, seeing as his company alone was enough to make my misery disappear for a limited sum of time.

"To Quebec." I whispered, purposefully leaving out mention of a lifetime.

As much as I'd like to deny it, I knew my idea of 'lifetime' was decades shorter than his. I was never destined to be the girl who got to grow old with a happy family; instead, I was left with the short stick I was forced to pull from my first day on Earth.

I wouldn't ever have the luck of a lifetime with Rafe in reality but, luckily, dreams provided an escape from that.

That was the only place our plan could ever begin to become true, so I fell asleep with that exact bittersweet thought in mind.