THE PICTURE OF YOU -rafe cameron-

065; day three

Day three leading up to the island club party,
Rafe and Myra was still laying on the couch in his father's rental property. The clock had just turned midnight. They were laying there watching the orange flames slowly burning in the fireplace. It danced along the logs, creating ashes and casting a warm light into the otherwise dark room. The storm had fully kicked in, making the wind whistle as it pulled on the tree tops. The waves of the ocean hit the shore harshly and each tree on the island swung back and forth with the force of the wind. Rain hit the window with a loud splattering noise. All the power had gone out, leaving both the cut and figure eight in complete darkness. It was rough kind of weather in deed, but Myra didn't mind. It wasn't anything she wasn't used to, besides she was a child of the storm. On the night she had been born a similar kind of storm had swept over the island, her father had told her the story a few times when she was younger.

Rafe got up from the couch after a while. Without a word he walked away, soon to return with some candles that he had found. He set them out around the room before he lit them up, allowing the darkness of the room to ease up. He threw a few more logs into the fireplace to keep the fire burning before he returned to the couch. He draped his arm around Myra, placing a soft kiss on her lips. It was brief but still left her with a fluttering heart. She smiled, she couldn't help it. He had that effect on her. Rafe smiled too, leaving down once more to kiss her again. It wasn't much longer than the last one, but just as sweet. Rafe took a moment to trace Myra's lips with his thumb as he looked at her, awe burning in his eyes.

They laid down again and Rafe pulled a nearby blanket over them. Myra relaxed, feeling herself getting tired. Rafe liked being here with her, but he also felt a familiar kind of itch. He hadn't slept very well in the last few nights, three nights to be exact. During those lonely long nights he had turned to the white powder that was stacked away and hidden in the back of his dresser. The thing that usually made the kook parties he attended way more fun had overtime turned into a thing that could make him relax and go to sleep. A simple hit of it made his wandering mind quiet down a bit and his usually trembling hands feel a little steadier. Now he wasn't home, so he didn't have it. The cocaine. It wasn't as if he needed it, he just longed for the feeling. It crossed his minds a few times a day at least and it was quite hard to shake off.

To distract himself Rafe turned his gaze from the fire towards Myra. She had her eyes closed, seemingly about to drift off to sleep. She looked beautiful in the dim warm light of the room, with the light of the orange flames dancing upon her face. It slowly flickered around each part of her perfect sunkissed skin. Rafe sighed lowly as he looked at her, leaning in a little closer. "Falling asleep?" he asked with a hushed tone. Myra shook her head gently as she opened her eyes, blinking them. "No" she hummed back, "are you?". Rafe shook his head with determination. "No" he answered. His gaze then wandered down from Myra's bright blue eyes to the marks on her throat. They were fading but still visible. Once more he wanted to ask her about it, but he didn't want to upset her. It hadn't gone too well earlier.

"Do you want some more wine?"

Myra and Rafe had downed two glasses each already. It wasn't enough to get Myra drunk, but she could feel somewhat more relaxed from it. Rafe got a bad idea. His curiosity and need to know everything took over. "Sure" Myra hummed as she gently nodded her head. Rafe got up again, grabbing the two glasses before he walked off into the kitchen. If he could only get her drunk enough she would surely tell him what had happened to her, Rafe thought as he poured the red wine into the glasses. He poured a little extra to hers, thinking that it would hopefully do the trick. Rafe was good at turning things in a direction that would benefit him, it was a thing he had mastered over the years. Manipulation. It usually didn't feel as dirty to him as this though.