Stella Vandenburg realizes that loving a criminal makes you just as guilty as they are
_lowercase intended in first TWO chapters only. otherwise, proper grammar is intended.
_fem!oc x rafe.
_enemies to lovers.
_a little oc x jj.
_season 1-3 complete...
"Fuck. My. Life. Fuck. Everything!" I yell in between kicks and slams, getting my tears confused for rainwater. Thunder crashes in the distance, illustrating exactly how I feel at the moment.
Then, as I grow too tired to keep attacking the nature around me, I slump down against a large rock, stuff my hands into my face, and just cry.
At Poguelandia, I thought I was alone.
I wasn't aware that I wouldn't truly know what 'alone' feels like until right now.
I don't know how long I stay crouched down in sobs when I hear an engine rev.
I quickly get up, brush the sand off my ass, and look around frantically. It better not be some creep like the night of Agatha.
"Who's there?!" I try to sound scary, but my voice is weak and it comes out as more of a helpless croak. "I have a knife!"
I don't have a knife, and this could very well be the night I die. I'm not sure if I would even care, to be honest.
But then a familiar figure steps up to me, a few yards away, yet still recognizable.
"Rafe?" I say, not sure whether to feel relieved or even more afraid.
"Stella?" he asks, looking just as confused to see me as I am him. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Crying," I put it bluntly. "What, have you come to get revenge or something? No need, the only family member I had left is now dead and I'm also homeless and stinky. Guess karma came back around."
