addicted vol 2 | rafe cameron

𝟓 | 𝐕𝐮𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I sit on the edge of one of the docks, staring up at the moon. We got into contact with the Bahamian police earlier, and they said they'd find Sarah, as well as the gold. I told my dad what I did while we were waiting in the police department, or better yet what I accidentally did. I still haven't even fully processed what happened. It was a shock to see that my sister and her boyfriend weren't actually dead, and then the fear of her succumbing to the injury that I inflicted has been eating me alive. If she's alive, what is this gonna mean for the case? Is she going to rat me out once we get back to the OBX? But what if she's actually dead?

My dad suddenly appears next to me, patting my back a few times, making me realize that the muffled voice I've been hearing was actually him trying to talk to me.

"Rafe, buddy, the gold's all there," he says, a look of relief on his face. "The police said we can go in just a second. I'm gonna fly the gold out in the morning, but we'll get on the jet in about an hour."

I can't bring myself to smile with him. I can't even speak.

"We're lucky, though." He chuckles. "The gold is in the capable hands of the Bahamian Police Department."

I feel his eyes glued on the side of my face as I stare at the water. How could he possibly be laughing? I've gone through hell and back in the past 48 hours just to help him and after all of this shit, he's laughing.

"Rafe, I know you're feeling bad, but you don't have to, okay? I know you didn't mean to hurt her."

He holds onto my shoulder. I try to swallow, but my throat feels dry. It's like I can't breathe. There's one thing on repeat in my head: I don't want to help him anymore.

He taps my knee. "They said they checked the hospitals, they checked the morgue, and there's been nothing. That's good news. That means she's okay, Rafe."

I finally turn my head to look him in the eye. "What if I'm not okay?"

He blinks. "What?"

I shrug as tears fill up my eyes. "I'm not okay."

"You are. You're okay."

"No, Dad, I'm not," I say, my voice trembling.

He holds onto the back of my neck and pulls me closer to him. "We'll go back and get a good night's sleep tonight. You're gonna feel completely different in the morning, I'm sure of it."

"Dad, I thought I was okay but I'm not." I bury my head in my hands before standing up. "I keep having these thoughts in my head—"

"—Get control of yourself," he whispers urgently, now standing up with me.

"I don't know if I can control what's going on in my head. I'm afraid of what's gonna happen." I face him head-on, wanting him to see the desperation in my face. "I don't know how much more of this shit I can take."

His jaw clenches. "We'll talk about it, okay?"

"I need help, Dad!" I plead loudly. "Not Sarah, alright? I need it!"

My dad widens his eyes before noticing the police officers who seem to be staring at us. "He's all right!" he says, waving with a smile.

"I want to go back to normal, Dad," I beg.

"I know, I know! We will talk about it!" He says through his teeth, trying to whisper, before forcefully pulling my face into his shoulder.

"You're not listening to me, Dad. I'm having a hard time—"