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CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN love is blinding
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TIME WAS NEVER something I could wrap my head around.
How was it that, from such a young age until now, the concept of love was something I wouldn't even dare to dream of? I had so many years to dwell on the feeling, and only got my first glimpse of it once 18 of them had passed. 18 years, for that matter, that felt like the most exhausting span of time I'd lived through.
But, on the flip side, how could the self-accepting period where I was finally able to put a label on my feelings go by so quickly? After so long, loving him was the one thing I was finally sure of enough to put a label on, and it was all erased with a single gunshot.
A gunshot that could cost someone their life, and cost me my sanity.
I doubt I was fully sure that I loved Rafe; how was it physically possible that I could? The capability to love someone wasn't something I believed to have, as each of my days was spent in self-loathing and convincing myself that I wasn't worthy of the emotion.
In my books, there was a fine line between love and infatuated attachment, and I think I may have smudged every last part of it.
Lovers don't excuse their partner's violence based on the version of them they got to know- that's the work of infatuation.
And that was the sole reason why I was so eager to get out of the car and be on Rafe's side: because I'd felt a blur of things towards him and was left with the only hope of preserving the positivity.
If there was any.
Chasing final doubts for my impending actions down with the liquor in my hand, I slammed the car door behind me and inched closer to the source of the gunshot. There was no point in me even attempting to seem sane after everything, so I simply approached the scene with a blank face as nothing expressed my feelings more; drained.
The flat-lipped frown I possessed didn't flinch for a second whilst I was met with the sight of Rafe pointing the gun in a police officer's direction, soon enough recognising her to be Sheriff Peterkin. Like clockwork, her frail body dropped straight to the ground the second I came into view, exposing the horrified faces of Sarah and John B.
"Camille, you're in on this too?" Sarah exclaimed whilst the boy beside her rushed to tend to the wounded woman.
At the sound of her calling out my name, Rafe turned back to face me with the faintest hint of worry, "You should've stayed in the car, fuck."
"No, I shouldn't have." I placed my hand on the upper part of his free arm, moving his focus entirely onto me, "I made a promise, I'm gonna help you."
John B reached out for the sheriff's radio device, seemingly ready to call for help at her weak demands. Pausing whatever act of reassurance I was trying to inflict, I grabbed the gun from Rafe's hold and pointed it in his direction.
