•STOCKHOLM SYNDROME• [obx3]

Chapter 25: Rubbing alcohol

'This might hurt a little, alright?'

Kie sits beside the sink. Rafe holds the alcohol-dampened cloth against the wound at her forehead.

She flinches, sucking up air through her teeth. Rafe looks at her through the front strands of his hair. He tries again but Kie shys away.

'Goddamit it Kie! Can you at least try to stay still for me?'

In frustration, he clasps his hand at the side of her neck, holding her steady. This time she doesn't move.  

'There, that wasn't so bad was it?'

'Don't be such a dick', Kie mutters, leaning her head against the wall. She lets out a muffled yawn and shuts her eyes.

'Hey, hey', Rafe leans closer, his head rolls in disappointment. Seriously? She's fucking sleeping? Rafe curses. Great now what? Am I supposed to carry her to bed or something? Who the fuck does she think I am.

'Yeah sweet dreams', Rafe says mockingly. He turns on his heel and makes for leave but hesitates. He cocks his head over his shoulder. Kies still there, blacked out completely. She probably has a concussion. I can't just leave her there.

Rafe curses under his breath. He shifts her weight in his arms and carries her. When he reaches his bed, he tosses the covers back with a hand before lowering her down.

He sighs another curse word, throwing the clump of sheets over her. Since when did taking care of her become a full time job? I should've just let her run away with Sarah, she's pretty useless... But she's easy on the eyes, I'll give her that.

Rafe paces to his liquor cabinet. He pours himself a glass of scotch, letting his head tip back as he chugs it.

Everything's such a fucking mess. I can't take this shit anymore. I can't. I have to run this shit all on my own and no one gives a fuck. I shot the sheriff. A person; a human being, for my Dad. Then I tried to get the gun back for him. I got him the gold. I got him the cross. I got him everything he wanted. Everything. Nothing I do is ever good enough. It's never enough.

People are afraid of me. I see it in their eyes. I like it, them being afraid. I don't know what's wrong with me. Sometimes I'm afraid of myself... sometimes.

And now I've got to deal with more shit.

Kie could've been raped.

I want to kill that fucking son of a bitch. That piece of shit deserves to die. I shouldn't of let her get in the way. I should've gone back, made sure he was dead. I should've-

Rafe rubs his temples with his fingertips, maybe if he rubs hard enough his thoughts will just leave him alone. But they don't. They never do.

He resorts to the only thing he knows. It helps... a little. Rafe makes a line of coke on the counter.

Once he's done, he sniffles and manages a small smile.

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I hope this monologue wasn't too bad
:( If y'all have any suggestions about it please let me know.