𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗱 / 𝗿𝗮𝗳𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗼𝗻

flashback three

2018

It had been three weeks.

Three weeks that had passed by dreadfully and painstakingly. Each day felt longer than the previous, but they'd also begun to blend into each other. Soon, she wasn't sure if it had been hours or weeks.

She felt terribly embarrassed when she scrolled through her messaged with Rafe, and learned it had been that long.

Three weeks.

And she'd messaged him everyday since.

She wasn't one to give up easily, but everyday when she thought maybe today would be the day he would finally respond, finally apologize, finally give her some form of an explanation, she was wrong.

He made her feel foolish, like she had been the one to have done something wrong.

But it was all fine, she decided, and she went on to message him today as if it had become part of her daily routine.

Except today was different.

When she sent her first message, it didn't deliver.

So, logically, or at least what her head convinced her was logic, she sent another message.

That one didn't deliver either. Her mind already knew the answer but she refused to accept it yet, so with shaky hands she clicked a few buttons that were so familiar, and called him, needing to confirm her fears.

It went straight to voicemail, and she knew.

Today, he blocked her number.

Nerves churned in her stomach that brought instant waves of nausea, and it was as if all became too real to handle. Because even though he had been ignoring her, she still had some line of connection with him, as little as it may have been.

But today, without so much as a single word, was the day he seized all communication between them.

And she wasn't quite sure how to react, how one was supposed to react. There wasn't much rationality in her mind at the moment, but even a little part of her knew as she walked out of her bedroom, that this probably wasn't the best way to react.

But, still, she found herself striding down the street, mindlessly allowing her feet to carry her to Rafe's house.

She was tired of being ignored, she was tired of waiting for something to happen. She was tired of telling herself she was respecting his boundaries.

Fuck his boundaries, she'd thought.

She let the anger that she'd pushed down and bottled up for three weeks surface as she entered the Cameron household without even a knock. And it only took seconds before her entire body began to vibrate with unresolved anger.

This was ridiculous, she could only think, she hadn't done anything. So why was he acting like she'd just murdered his entire family, or worse?

When she arrived at his bedroom door she couldn't bring herself to move, to do anything. Because the plan had seemed so great when she thought of it over and over again on the short walk here.

But now, actually standing in front of his door, made things much more intimidating than it had been in her head.

So she relied on the anger to drive her and her hand suddenly surged forward to twist open his doorknob, because she knew he wouldn't willingly let her in if she knocked.

But the knob refused to budge, and only slightly fidgeted to the side.

It was locked.

So, she reluctantly raised a fist to the door and began pounding on it, surely loud enough to wake him if he had been sleeping.