When He Leaves - R. Cameron

25 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠, 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓

𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠,
𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓

summer of '19

                 Rafe closed the door behind him, slowly pushing it until there was a soft click. He then glanced around, his heart pounding in his chest. "Dad?" After a moment of no response, he walked over to Ward's desk and opened the drawer, grabbing the notebook. He knew it was where he kept all of his important passwords, numbers, and what he really needed— the safe combination.

                  "Four, three, three, zero, zero. Okay." He whispered and then shut the drawer back. He went over to the hanging portrait and opened it, finding the safe behind it. "Four, three, three . . ." He mumbled to himself. He struggled to open it, but got it right the second time. "Okay. Yeah." He shuffled through it quickly, grabbing a watch that looked like would do the job.

                   He closed it, nervously looking to the side for anyone and then shut the portrait back over it, pausing in his step when he saw Ward standing right there, his lips pressed into an angry line. His whole body went hot in panic, and he swallowed thickly.

                   Ward glanced down at his hand, looking back up at him. "Checking the time?"

                   Rafe blinked at him and looked back down. He cleared his throat. "Uh . . ." He was at a loss for words, not thinking clearly with the drugs running through his system.

                   "Are you fucking kidding me, Rafe?" Ward stalked towards him, and he cowered in front of him. His mind was racing and all he could do was tell him the truth, there was no way he could talk himself out of this. He was good at bullshitting, but not this good.

                 "Dad, I–I'm trying to make things right." He stumbled out, backing away before Ward could get his hands on him. "Dad! Barry showed up, asking for money, and he stole my bike—"

                  Ward wrapped his hands around his throat and slammed him against the wall, holding him there and keeping just enough pressure to immobilize him. "Who the hell is Barry? And he stole the bike, the one you got with the money you were supposed to use for the fucking generators!"

                Rafe clawed at his father's hands, attempting to relieve some of the pressure on his throat. He could feel his face turning purple, no oxygen getting to his lungs. When he finally thought he had enough, he released him and shoved him against the wall once again. He collapsed to the ground, gripping his neck and gasping for air. "I got some stuff from him, I didn't pay him for it yet—"

                 "Drugs, Rafe! I know what the hell you've been doing!" Ward bellowed, hitting the wall with the side of his fist in rage. "What is it? Cocaine?" He laughed and shook his head.

                     Rafe got off the floor, steadying himself against the wall. He did not respond, only staring at the floor with unblinking eyes. His head was pounding and all he wanted to do was slam it against the wall. "I have to go do something, but as soon as we're done, we're going and taking care of your shirt for good. You hear me?" Ward asked, sounding calmer, his voice steadier and deadly.

                     "Yes, sir." He nodded and closed his eyes, hearing his retreating footsteps. He looked at the watch down on the floor, realizing he had dropped it when Ward had slammed him against the wall. He left it there, too mortified to touch it again, knowing what he had almost done with it.

                     It was hours later, the sun had went down, and Ward yelled for him to meet him in the car. He has been sitting in his room, reading the last text Rory had sent him. He was guilt ridden, not wanting to face her or allow her to see who he had become. It was for the best, putting distance between. It would make it easier in the end, when he was finally gone.