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"Where is she?"
The eldest Cameron child was frantic - and for more reasons than the obvious. Damp clothing clung to his tall and stature physique, his eyes blood shot from all the tears cried silently in the empty and cold jail cell.
"Looks like you'll be getting a cell mate soon." The Deputy spoke up, Rafe's eyes narrowing in on the women. "Your father. He'll be here soon."
Purple coloured bruises fanned over the delicate skin belonging to Rafe's face, his jaw tensed as he curled the jacket tighter between his fist. "What are you talking about?" Rafe parted his dry and cracked lips, fingers wounding around the metal bars. "Where the hell is my girlfriend? I swear to God if anyone touches her!"
Where was Ophelia Martin?
The girl hadn't gone far. After endless questioning in a small, pale room with nothing but small table and two single chairs, Ophelia was let out without a second glance. Was she guilty? By association. Was she planning on leaving? Absolutely not.
The Martin girl waited outside the Police Station for what felt like hours. Her father had come and gone, a brief and short lived conversation of empty promises and heartache. Ophelia knew what was going to come, yet all she seemed to care about was the boy locked behind bars.
Everything Ophelia knew was Rafe. She ought to protect him now more than ever, and it was only a matter of time before he was ripped away from her completely, and when that day came upon her, Ophelia knew hell would freeze over, and she would do everything in her power to keep the Cameron boy safe and sheltered from the outside world.
If only she knew what Rafe had been thinking. Locked behind bars, he almost kept his stature on the ground when Officer Shoupe passed by to let him free. "Looks like your father and Mr. Martin took the wrap."
Maybe, Ophelia was safe when he was locked away. Maybe, the reason itself for Ophelia's pain and sadness was Rafe himself, and he was only doing himself a favour by remaining at her side at all times of the day.
Maybe, she was better off without him, yet his brewing obsession with the Martin girl was far more powerful than the dark thoughts dancing in the back of his mind. Rafe Cameron was selfish.
Fiddling with the gold metal lining his left hand ring finger, a soft breeze flooded past the boy as the doors flooded open, in the mere distance Rafe's eyes narrowing in on the girl he couldn't stay away from, no matter how hard he had tried.
She was there, sat upon a concrete planter with her knees hugged into her chest. Damp strands of hair clung to every inch of her face, pale and gone of all colour. And then she saw him - and he her - and both couldn't help but let their lips curl upwards, the pits of their empty stomachs growing warm with comfort.
