This is Me Trying ⭑ Rafe Cameron

nineteen

"Rafe!" She screamed, slamming her fist on the door repeatedly. "What the hell are you doing?! Let me out!"

"I'm sorry— I'm sorry." He yelled from the other side. "Just let me handle this, and I'll come get you when it's over—"

"When what's over?!" She screamed, slamming her shoulder against the door, hard. "Rafe!"

And then it was silent. He had walked away.

"Rafe!" She screamed again, her voice shrill and panicked.

The room around her settled in. Six beds total, thin, cheap mattresses placed on top of old iron bunks. Men's clothes sprawled out everywhere, reeking of sweat. There wasn't even a window.

She pressed her back up against the door, struggling to get in any air. "Oh god, oh god." She got out as she clung to her throat, that panic in her chest becoming too much to bare.

She couldn't even comprehend what it was she was the most terrified about. The impending attack of whoever had snuck on board to steal the cross, the fact that Rafe had tricked her and locked her away into a room. If the thieves were going to get to Rafe, or get to her.

Or the fact that she was slowly realizing she'd made the most ill-minded, thoughtless decision in her entire life, and was now aboard a cargo ship in the middle of the ocean with multiple criminals, to disappear to another country.

Abandoning her grandma who only had her, her brother who needed her, and a life she was too weak to face the consequences of. She sunk to the floor, and despite how hard she tried, she couldn't keep the sobs from spilling from her mouth.

There was no excuse for her actions. No one to blame but herself. Everything she'd done, every choice she'd made, had led her here. Locked behind an iron door, by someone she thought she trusted.

Cassie Maybank, the fool.

"Oh my god." She cried, her chest shaking as she pulled at the blonde hair at her scalp.

What was she doing? What was she thinking?

Cassie was sick. Cassie had been sick, and she probably always would be. That was part of the recovery process, acknowledging the fact that she'd never fully be healed. It was something they told her at Kitty Hawk, to expect to relapse, but to become stronger after it.

But this was something deeper than the drugs, something that hit her harder and clouded her mind in all the worst ways. It was built-in to her DNA, and no matter how hard she tried to hide it, she was sick.

She was sick, and she was desperate, and she wanted so badly to be liked, and cared for, and appreciated. She wanted so badly to be apart of the rich-kid crowd, to be a valuable asset, to be a girlfriend. To feel wanted, and needed, and seen. And the worst part was, she wasn't even sure if she felt those things now.

She wasn't sure if Rafe wanted her, or needed her, or saw her. Because Rafe was so good at lying, he was so good at twisting the truth, and making it seem like everything was okay. That her worries were spun from nothing.

And those moments where he really did make her feel good; where he grabbed her hand, or kissed her lips, she could never really let herself fully indulge into that warmth.