LOVEBOMB, Rafe Cameron

27. a deal with the devil.

❝You were sufferin'
Blues away, way, way
I got two red pills
to take the blues away
And I'ma fuck the pain away,
and I know I'll be okay
They said our love is just a game,
I don't care what they say
And I'ma drink the pain away,
I'll be back to my old ways❞
-ᴾʳⁱᵛⁱˡᵉᵍᵉ ⁻ ᵀʰᵉ ᵂᵉᵉᵏⁿᵈ

27.  𝐀 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥.

    Gun powder on her fingers, gritty and dry. Except there wasn't, because she was awake now, her eyes cracking open, dragging her from the dream. Her eyes felt gritty and dry, but her fingers were clean. Rafe was still asleep and his arm stayed wrapped around Blair's waist as she sat up. It was still quite dark inside his room because the closed curtains were blocking the light from entering.

    It was there with her, of course. It always was always going to be.

The gun.

It was here now, beating within her chest, knocking against her ribs. Aiming with her eyes. It was going to be in nightmares, and crashing pans, and heavy breaths, and dropped pencils, and thunderstorms, and closing doors, and too loud, and too quiet, and alone and not, and the ruffle of pages, and the tapping of keys and every click and every creak.

The gun was always going to be there.

It lived inside her now.

    Had she been asleep for a long time? She must have, otherwise how had she dreamed? It was all still there, thrumming around her head, like it had all been lived only moments before. But not lived, only imagined, right?

    It had felt so real. The weight of it in her cupped hands. Still warm, keeping away the cold of the dark night. The metal of the gun, so sleek against the cage of her fingers. Blair hadn't thought that strange at the time– that was the way it was supposed to be– as she carried the gun across the tarmac. Gripping to it, as if she almost didn't want to let it go. But she had to, resting the gun on Peterkin's bloody, dead body while Ward and Rafe watched.

     Where were Sarah and John B? They were laying next to the sheriff— aligned together and in the same poor state as her. Was she the one who had killed them both? She didn't know. She didn't remember.

    Knees on the sun warmed tarmac, Blair looked up from the three dead bodies and watched Ward and Rafe, slowly making their way closer to her to ask her to join them. Would she join them? She didn't know, but she was finished, gun powder on her fingers, gritty and dry. And then she had pulled herself out of the dream, studying her fingers to know what was real and what wasn't. Her heart was fluttering, wingbeat fast, winding up the rest of her.

     She'd never sleep again now.

    The brunette checked the time. It was 7:27am. She discreetly slid out of bed and looked for her phone. Which was still on Rafe's desk, right where she had thrown it hours before.

    3 missed calls from Kelly.

    10 missed calls from Jenna.

    1 missed call from Luna.

    Blair blinked, her eyes watering from staring too long at her screen, the high brightness in a relatively dark room was burning her. She couldn't look away though; her heartbeat picked up as multiple awful scenarios of played inside her mind. It made sense that Jenna tried to call her. But Kelly and Luna... there had to be a reason. And why did the Pogues didn't try to reach out to her too? Did they already know she had betrayed her brother? She didn't even know where John B was or how far he ran from the tarmac. Had the police already found him?