You're A Vampire
chapter viii
warnings: alludes to abuse,
talks of drug addiction and
eating disorders
THE SUN BLED THROUGH a slight crack in the curtains, and landed right in her eyes. Lifting up a hand to shield it, Layne forgot for a moment where she was. The room didn't look familiar and someone was sleeping next to her. Initially, she was frightened, but then it registered where she was, and who she was with, and she felt safe again. She pulled the blanket over her bare chest and turned on her side, using his broad shoulder to block the blinding sun. He was breathing slowly, and Layne watched as his shoulders moved up and down. She wanted to touch him, but he looked so content sleeping, it wasn't worth it. He was so beautiful she wanted to cry. Breathing in his scent, she just placed her head on the mattress close to his him and listened to him breathe.
"If you're hungry, there's food in the kitchen." he grunted, placing his hand on her hair. Layne felt cemented into place as though she couldn't move. "I'm okay." It felt slightly awkward and Layne wasn't sure why. It occurred to her that she hadn't told either of her parents where she was, and slight panic set in. Her phone was on the ground and she maneuvered from beneath his hand to reach for it. There were missed calls from her mother, and her dad. She saw a text that said,
Layne, I only said those things because I love you. I need you to come home now.
It was from twelve in the morning—Layne felt her stomach churn. She couldn't understand why she put him over her parents. Sitting up and ignoring the other texts, Layne typed, i'm fine mom. i'm safe. After sending it, Layne was tempted to text her mother saying how Rafe loved her. But she couldn't even get her thumbs to move. She turned off her phone and placed it face down on his nightstand. Rafe ran his hand from the nape of her neck down her back. Layne ran a hand through her hair and turned to look at him. "Who was that?" he asked, his voice groggy, and he used his other hand to block the sun, like he was a vampire. He was a vampire, and he sucked the life out of her.
He sat up beside her, his arm ghosting her back as he toyed with the ends of her hair. "My mom." she didn't look at him and heard her phone buzzing. When she glanced back at it, Rafe leaned over and muted it. "Hey. Hey look at me." he turns her face toward him with two fingers. Layne felt like jelly in his hands, and as if she could melt into the ground. He placed his hand on her cheek and pushed away a few strands of hair. "You're mine, okay? I'm always going to protect you. I promise. I love you." his words were so insincere but Layne convinced herself it was true. It sounded liked someone else was speaking for him. She didn't answer because she physically couldn't speak.
"You are the only one who has ever stayed with me for this long. You're the only one who can take care of me, Layne. You know that?"
She stared at his comforter for a while and picked at her finger nails. He graced his fingers over her neck and kissed over the mark that was left by his hand, as if he was trying to heal it, as if he wasn't the one who did it. The marks on her arm were just beginning to fade and he ignored them as if it was a one time thing. "Can you say something?" he whispered, placing a kiss on her cheek. Layne sighed shakily, turning to look at him. "You really scared me the other night." she said it so quietly she thought he didn't hear her. His skin was hot against her and his breath was shuddering, Layne thought he might begin to cry. When she looked at him, there were tears in his eyes and Layne felt her heart break.
"I was using drugs. I—I get possessive over you because I care about you. You know that," he was twitching and itching his nose. "I'm trying to get clean. But its so hard, Layne, it's so hard . . . my dad, he wants me to be this perfect son . . . and step up like him . . . but I can't, and you're the only person who loves me."
"That's not true."
"But it is. My sisters hate me, and Rose . . . she thinks there's something wrong with me. She's always looking at me like I'm evil. But I'm not, I'm not."
Layne held his wrist and stroked it with her thumb. "I know you're not. I know . . . I'm sorry. It's my fault. I love you, Rafe, truly. I'll always love you." he ran his hands all over her, as if to place his touch everywhere. He wanted to make sure he was always there, no matter what. As if he was a dog marking his territory. Rafe wanted to leave his fingerprints all over her, every inch of skin, every muscle, every bone. She felt like a child and he spoke to her and touched her as though she was going to break. I'm ruining you, aren't I? He had said to her the other night, his head on her shoulder, in the marsh. He was ruining her. He was ruining everything. Layne wanted him to ruin everything.
Layne wondered if she could ever break his heart in the way he was breaking hers. But even if she imagined tearing his heart out of his chest, holding it in his hands as it pumped without him, lived without him, it would still latch onto her like a leash. It would guide her around with her unable to let go of it. She'd realize she tore her own heart out, too.
Most of the time she didn't believe the words he said to her, nor the words she said in return. He ran his hand up and down her bare back. His hair was ghosting her shoulder and it took Layne a moment to realize that his head was leaning on her back, right by the part where it turned into her neck. His breath was warm and for a moment, she thought he had fallen asleep. She spoke out loud to him, although she wasn't sure if he was awake.
"Do you remember when we were on the beach, when we were seventeen?" he nodded his head against her shoulder and wearily lifted his head up to look at her with hooded, bloodshot eyes. "After we . . . slept together. I sat there for the rest of the party, until my friends wanted to leave, just waiting for you to come back." she tried not to look at him, because Layne knew if she did, she would begin to cry. "I don't know why I have this impulse to be available to you at all times—all the time," He looked at her like he had no idea what she was talking about. He was ruining her. "I know I'm better off without you. But most of the time I feel as though I can't live without you."
Rafe was quiet for a minute, and Layne wasn't sure if he was listening or not. His breaths were steady and then he sniffed, as though he was crying. He was still looking at her, and Layne glanced away to prevent herself from crying as well. There were so many emotions whirring in her brain that she couldn't keep them contained, couldn't understand and articulate them. It was like she overflowing with them, and it was pouring out of her, spilling out of her like the stitches of a poorly put together rag doll abandoned underneath a bed.
"You should've seen me when you were gone. I didn't know what to do with myself." He moaned, moving to cup her face with one of his hands. Layne had the urge to scratch his face off. He made her look at him and his hand was so cold Layne wondered if he was alive at all. "I need you, Layne. You're the only person who understands me. I only love you. You know that." She did not know that. Layne never believed him when he said it, either. But part of her thought that maybe she was healing him. She was making him better—and if she left, things would only get worse. Layne had never thought of leaving him, and was more scared that he was going to leave her.
"It's not like this with anyone else." Rafe muttered, and for some reason, those words resonated with Layne more than anything else—more than him saying I love you, more than him promising not to hurt her again. It's not like this with anyone else. In other words, no other girls allowed him to treat them like this. Layne did. Because she thought she deserved it—she knew she deserved it. She thought maybe she was being punished because she dove in head first with a boy she hardly knew—that she was being punished for being a shit daughter and a shit friend.
They kissed for a while but Layne did not let him touch her, or take off her clothes. She felt so gross, and so violated, she thought she might throw up.
He brought her downstairs and Layne froze in her steps when she saw his whole family sitting at the dining room counter. Ward, their father, was gone, but his two sisters and Rose were sitting eating waffles. Layne thought she might be sick. "Do you want anything?" He asked her, going to the fridge. She stood cemented in her spot and watched him pull out the carton of milk and drink it without the glass.
"Good morning to you too." Rose muttered, looking at Layne like she was a pariah. She did not know what to say. Did she answer? Or did she just act like she was deaf and couldn't speak. She actually considered the thought for a brief moment before she realized how stupid she was being. "I'm Layne—Layne Hetfield." Outstretching her hand, Rose looked at it briefly before shaking it like Layne had spat in her palm. "I know." Rose answered, retracting her hand and dusting off her pants before going back to the living room. Layne stood there, slightly speechless. That was one of the most humiliating things that's ever happened to her. That was saying a lot.
Sarah and Wheezie both gave small smiles and waves, Sarah looking a bit more sympathetic than she expected. Layne had never really spoken to her before—she knew his family did not like her. Rather, they didn't want to like her. Old habits die hard—associating with the wrong side of the island was considered blasphemy. It was a shock that Rafe Cameron was the one committing it.
He leaned up against the fridge, smirking at her. He looked so beautiful, Layne wanted to draw him, even though she was not an artist. His sisters left the room, and he handed her the milk. "You are disgusting." She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. He smiled again. Layne had the urge to inhabit him, crawl inside his skin and live inside of him. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, to the point where it physically hurt. In some other world, if Rafe had been raised properly, and lived somewhere else, maybe he would've treated her differently. But something about having her willing to do anything he wanted her to do made him feel like he could do anything. She couldn't and wouldn't ever judge him—she listened, and she told him everything he wanted to hear. It wasn't a lie when he said it wasn't like this with other people. Other people weren't Layne. He hated that.
He put the milk back in the fridge, looking between Layne and the abundant amount of food in there. "What do you want to eat?" he asked, nodding his head toward the food. Layne didn't know what to say. He had never been so kind before, it kind of scared her—as though she was trying to catch it with her bare hands so she could cradle it and keep it alive for forever. He didn't act like this—this wasn't Rafe. It wouldn't be long before he went back to the way he was. Layne knew this, but she didn't care. As long as he was being kind now.
"I'm not hungry." That was a lie. But Layne hadn't been hungry for a while. He screwed up his face, shrugging before slamming the fridge close. "You never eat." He made it sound accusatory—as though it was hurting him. Or like she was doing it to hurt him. No matter what progress they make, Rafe would always resort back to his old habits. Layne's mouth went dry. He was the one who did this to her. Being away from him, with his constant calls accusing her of cheating, and being a whore, made her emotional. She stopped eating because she didn't have control of anything, but she had control of that. She was never pleased with herself because Rafe was never pleased with her.
He was stroking her hand and placing kisses on her palm, the inside of her wrist, the nook of her elbow. Layne released a heavy sigh and forgot, for a moment, where they were. That his family was in the other room. "That's nice." She breathed, and he moved to kiss her shoulder, her neck, her jawline. His other hand went to cradle her waist, and his hand moved up her thigh underneath his shirt that cascaded down to her right above her knees. Layne tried to steady her breath, but his hands kept teasing her underwear, and she thought she was going to melt. His stepmother and sisters were in the other room, and he was trying to get her over the kitchen counter. "Rafe..." she breathed, trying to push him away gently. "Rafe, Rose...your sisters."
He continued, trying to push her underwear aside. "Are you worried about them hearing?" he mocked her, and Layne kept trying to push him away. Her face was growing red as he kept trying to touch her. She looked over at the living room door, and saw in the reflection of the window, the three of them watching television on the couch. They didn't look over—but Layne felt like they were looking right at her.
Rafe tried putting her up on the counter, but Layne finally pushed him away. "Not here." she murmured, not looking him in the eye as if she was scared of him. She was scared of him.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, what the fuck are we doing then?" He spoke like there was no one else in the house—and like he wasn't professing his love for her only hours prior, not even. Layne blinked at him, trying to see a crack in his demeanor or if he was going to say he was joking. Nothing ever changed. Rafe would never change. "You wanted me here, douchebag." She snapped back, and Rafe moved to grab her wrist and yanked her toward him again.
"I promised not to hurt you anymore. But you need to stop giving me reasons to. Like pulling bullshit like that." He yanked her toward him again when she tried to back up, before Layne was able to pull her wrist free from his grasp. Her eyes were wide and Rafe was feeding off the fear in them—knowing she wasn't going to do anything else. "You think you're a good girl, Layne, but you're not. But you can be—if you listen to me."
Layne stared at him, not moving for a few moments, before cradling her wrist in her hand. It didn't hurt as badly as she was making it seem, but she just wanted to make him feel bad. He didn't seem to be wavering at all. His jaw was clenched and Layne worried he might try and hit her.
"I need to go home." She tried to push past him, toward the stairs, but he softly grabbed her by the arms.
"Please don't leave."
Layne struggled against him as she tried to walk up the stairs, finally breaking free of him and heading back up to his room to grab her clothes and phone. Rafe followed closely on her trail, muttering to himself. Layne couldn't exactly make out what he was saying, but all she knew was that she desperately wanted to go home. She wanted to crawl into her bed and never come out—never see the light of day again. She knew her parents were going to kill her. But Layne knew she couldn't get away with never seeing them again—that was something of imagination. Rafe was consuming her like a vampire.
By the time they reached his room, Layne already moved to grab her phone. There was a multitude of calls from her mother, father, Marian and Claudia. Her breath hitched and she swallowed the lump in her throat. Rafe was looming over her like the devil on her shoulder. "Don't answer them." He whispered, and his breath made chills run down her spine. "You know they just to break us up," he egged her on, trying to reach for the phone, but Layne tried to pull away from him. "They don't know how much I love you...how much you love me..." he placed his hand lightly over her own that was clutching her phone in her hand.
He brushed some of her hair off her neck and placed a delicate kiss on her shoulder. Layne could not understand how he could be so cruel to her one minute, and treat her so delicately the next. It messed with her head and made her think she was imagining all of it—like it was just some big elaborate daydream.
"You know that. That's why you're not answering them." He turned off her phone. Layne let him do it—so maybe she really didn't want to answer them. Maybe Rafe was right. He always seemed to be right. "Just stay with me baby." He pleaded, and pushed her phone down on his bed. Layne let him do it—she was too enamored with the way he was holding her, the way he was kissing her neck and toying with her hair.
"I just hate the way you treat me." She breathed, and Rafe kept his arms wrapped around her, like he couldn't and wouldn't let her go. He sighed, pulling away slightly. "I know." He muttered. "I'm serious Rafe...I'm not lying when I say I will leave you."
He ran his fingers over the bare skin of her stomach—he knew she was ticklish there. Layne tried to hold in her giggles. "No you won't." He teased, although Layne knew he was serious. He wouldn't let her leave. "I won't let you." He kept running his fingers over her stomach, and Layne's serious façade broke slightly, but she tried to push him away nonetheless. The sun was bleeding through the blinds, but it felt so dark and Layne's stomach was churning as his hands were running all over her.
"Rafe...stop." she whispered, pulling away from him. He released a heavy sigh, like she was depriving him of air and water. Layne didn't know why she suddenly had such an intense urge to get away from him, and to never see him again. He was grasping onto her like she was a vice, like if he let go, she would run away. Maybe she would run away.
"I have to go home. I can't stay here forever."
Rafe poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, nodding his head. "I get it. You don't forgive me." He rubbed his chin, and Layne avoided looking at him. She didn't forgive him—but she'd never say that out loud. Saying out loud would make it too official—almost like it was solidifying the fact that her mom, her friends, and everyone else was right. Rafe didn't deserve her. But maybe she did deserve the way he was treating her.
"I'm gonna tell my parents about us." It was silent for a moment, as Rafe stepped away from her. Layne wasn't sure what else to say—she also wasn't sure how Rafe was going to react. It wasn't as though no one knew about them—that notion had been negated a few days ago. Now they were in a weird middle ground, and Layne was stuck wallowing in a pool of unknowing. She was clawing at the surface, trying to breathe, but she couldn't. Rafe's arms were wrapped around her dragging her down.
"It's not like your parents don't know about us." She spoke again, and Rafe gingerly walked to sit on the edge of his bed. He looked like he was shaking, and Layne didn't know why. He was only ever vulnerable around her. That made her feel special. Maybe that is what kept around for so long—she could look past all the bad parts to focus on when he held her, told her he loved her, made her feel so good and like she was the only girl in the world. It might be only be few and far between, and he might only use her to get himself off, but he had to feel something toward her if he kept her around for so long. It had been two years of them being together—whatever that meant. Layne liked to think of him with other girls to make herself do better. Sometimes she wanted to watch him have sex—she would never say that to him.
"What are you going to say?" He asked, gently trying to reach for her hands. He was being so painfully pathetic in this moment that it made her want to cry. He looked like a little boy again—face flushed, eyes wide and looking up at her, hands shaky. Maybe he was just high. Layne tried to pull her hands away from him, but the moment she looked down at him, she caved in, just like she always did.
Every time Layne thought she was doing better, it only took one thing to set her back to where she started. Rafe's eyes were one of them. They always brought out the worst in her. But, she knew he was only asking her because he didn't want her telling her parents about him getting violent with her and how he mistreated her.
"That uh—we're together...that we're...dating."
Rafe stopped stroking her hands with his thumb, and looked up at up like she was a pariah. His hands went to the back of her legs and drew her closer to him, his head at her stomach. "Dating?" He breathed, like he was tossing the word around in his mouth, unsure of whether to swallow it or spit it up. His hands ghosted all over her legs and Layne felt the chills following in their path.
"I don't just want to be the person you go to when you're too high to go home. Or when you have nowhere else to sleep and you want to have sex." Rafe hummed along, nodding wordlessly and toying with the shirt that pooled around her thighs. She tried to ignore it, but he was like a devil whispering over her shoulder. He seemed to get the notion of her not wanting to have sex and pulled away, hands still toying with hers.
"OK." He whispered. That was all he had to say, OK. Layne felt her chest physically compress and she thought her heart was finally giving out. "You're OK with that?" she didn't believe him at first—but it was like poison coming out of her mouth, and she wasn't sure she believed her words either. It was almost like it invaded her bone marrow, and he was like a tumor.
"I don't think I have a choice."
Layne didn't know how to juggle that in her brain. It made him sound like he was defenseless—that there was no other choice but to oblige to her seemingly suffocating entanglement of being in a relationship. Layne herself wasn't sure what to say—how was she supposed to respond to that? Rafe probably wanted her to cave and say that she wasn't going to tell her parents, that she would keep them the supposed secret that he insisted that they were. They weren't a secret—Rafe knew that. But it felt too final to say that they were in a relationship, and Rafe didn't want to deal with that. He liked the fluidity of their relationship—but he also liked Layne more than he liked himself. He could love her if he tried—really, truly love her. But he wasn't capable of that. He wasn't able to.
"Do you promise you'll get clean?" She whispered, like she was too afraid to ask. Rafe wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing kisses on her stomach and waist. Layne stared at his disheveled bed spread and body imprints on his sheets. She smelled like him. Why did she like how much she smelled like him? "Yes, Layne...I promise, I promise..." He muttered, holding her like she was a doll. She felt so safe in his arms, despite the fact that they were the arms that hurt her so many times before.
"You won't get mad at me anymore?" her voice cracked, and Rafe looked up at her. Both of their eyes were swelling with tears, and Layne forgot for a moment that he was human and had emotions. She realized how easy it would be for him to kill her right now—to squeeze her so tight around the waist that she suffocated. She placed her hand on his cheek and he was red.
"I promise." He spoke it like it was painful to come out of his mouth. Layne couldn't tell if he regretted it or not, or if he even knew what he was doing wrong. Her heart was beating so loud she could hear it in her ears. He sighed heavily and pressed his cheek against her stomach. She wondered if he could hear her heartbeat.
"Can you take me home?" she asked, toying with the ends of his hair. He released a breath, and moved his hands to her waist.
"Can you lay down with me first?" he asked, not looking her in the eyes. He was like a baby, making noise, not knowing what to do. He acted like a child despite being 6'2. "OK." Layne breathed, pulling his hands from her body and moving to crawl onto the bed. She laid her head on the pillow, and Rafe wrapped his arms around her and held her close. His breath was soothing against her neck, and she closed her eyes. For a moment, she felt happy—but she didn't know how long it was going to last.
Rafe kissed the shell of her ear, and she could feel his heart beating against her back. She wanted to flinch at his touch. But she was supposed to be touched. She wanted a person to come up to her in the kitchen, just to smell her neck and get behind her and hug her and breathe her in. She wanted to turn around and kiss his face and put her hands in his hair with her soapy dishwasher hands. She deserved more than Rafe. Who else would come into to her kitchen? Who would be hungry for her? He treated her like a toy and then was cradling her in his bed, and she heard him humming Grace by Jeff Buckley. He was humming Jeff fucking Buckley again, and suddenly she loved him more than she could express.
Maybe Layne just wanted the feeling of being love, even if it wasn't true. Rafe believed he could love her, and maybe he did, and it was just his fucked up way of expressing it. Layne didn't care. He was humming Jeff Buckley like he did when they were in high school and it felt like pure love again.
Layne kept her eyes closed and started to softly cry. She wanted to stop the tears from dripping onto his sheets and hands but she couldn't move, like she was paralyzed. Rafe sniffed from behind her and moved slightly to let her get up. "Can you take me home now?" She asked, scooting to the end of the bed. He cleared his throat and sat up.
"Yeah. Of course."
Layne wasn't used to Rafe acting like this. But she felt her chest start to relax and forgot about the fact that she had to go home and face her mother. Gathering her still damp wet suit and swimsuit, she held them in her hands and watched as Rafe got dressed. He fixed his hair in the mirror like he had somewhere to go afterward—Layne wouldn't be surprised if he did. "Are you going out after?" She breathed, standing cowardly in the middle of his room, water from her wet suit dripping onto the floor. Rafe shrugged and looked at her through the mirror. "Maybe."
She didn't like that answer, but didn't want to press any further. "Let's go." He turned around, looking her up and down quickly before placing a hand on her arm and gently pushing her toward the door. Layne didn't know if he was ever going to change and she was embarrassed going downstairs to see his family again.
They were still in the living room, except for Wheezie, who was scrolling through her phone while leaning over the kitchen counter. She looked up at the pair of them and looked a little dumbfounded. Rafe ran his hands over his face and drummed his fingers on the counter as they passed by. Wheezie cleared her throat dramatically and Rafe turned around. "What Wheezie?" Rafe groaned, anxiously running a hand through his hair.
"Remember what we were supposed to do today?"
Layne looked between her and Rafe, and he just looked at his sister dumbfounded. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."
Wheezie threw her head back with a cry like he had just insulted her. "Dad told you to take me to get my bike fixed, remember? The chain's all screwed up." Layne bit her lip as to try and not smile—Rafe would get annoyed with her if he did. He looked visibly agitated. "OK—just...we'll do it when I get back, OK?" he rubbed his nose, and Layne felt her heart drop. She wondered if he snorted something when she wasn't paying attention. Layne tried to ignore it and focus on the fact that he was helping his little sister.
"I can probably fix it myself." He shook his head and motioned his hand for Layne to follow him. "C'mon, Layne." he moved his arm around her waist as she moved toward the front door. Layne looked over her shoulder at Wheezie who was rolling her eyes and angrily slammed her phone face down on the counter. Rafe softly guided her through the door and Layne could tell he was trying hard not to put his hands on her.
"You're a good brother." She muttered, placing her free hand on his upper arm. He had been working out again and she could feel the cutting muscles of his bicep. Her face turned hot and she realized how attractive he was. Girls looked at him all the time and he probably enjoyed it—beckoned it. Layne was so jealous she thought she could kill all of the girls she was making up inside her head.
"Don't say that."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not." He rounded the drivers side of a car Layne had never seen before. She noticed that Rafe often never drove the same car each day. This was a Porsche—it was more expensive than her life and her college tuition. She almost didn't want to sit on the pristine leather, worried that she might ruin the nearly perfect condition the car was in.
They drove to her house in silence. Layne looked out the window and watched the houses as they passed by—the way they slowly changed from monstrosities to small Cape Cods to ranches. If they went further down, the shacks and shanty towns would consume the island. Layne lived in the middle ground area between the two. Rafe slowed down at the normal place where he would drop her off—a few streets down. Layne looked at him with widened eyes, and he just looked at her out of his peripheral before speeding up and pulling up in front of her house.
Her parents car and her Jeep were parked in front. The door was still broken and the wind chimes still rustled in the wind. Her board was perched by the hose and outdoor shower. She sat and messed with the hem of his shirt and her hands shook. "You good?" he asked, patting her knee. Layne blinked and got out of her daze, and Rafe stroked her knee with his thumb. "Yeah—yeah I'm OK." She nodded, a tight-lipped smile on her face, and she unbuckled her seatbelt.
"I'll text you." Rafe muttered, taking his hand off her leg. Layne knew that he probably wasn't. She had learned to ignore when he made promises. But he was parked in front of her house instead of hiding a few streets down, his hand on her leg and looking at her like maybe he did care for her, and Layne felt OK again.
"OK." she whispered, moving for the door.
"Hey." Rafe called out, and Layne turned to look at him. "Mhm?"
"I love you." He made eye contact with her, and Layne swallowed before nodding her head. "Love you too." He waved her towards him, and she leaned forward to give him a quick kiss on the lips. He had leaned in for more, but she pulled away hastily. She wasn't sure how to feel about him right now and it was messing with her head.
"Bye." She muttered, before pushing out of the car and slowly rounding the front and creeping up to the front of the house. Her heart was beating rapidly and she turned around when she heard Rafe driving off. The engine could be heard from a mile away. Rory opened the door before Layne could even grab the handle.
"Where the fuck have you been?" She yelled, and Layne jumped in her skin. She looked around at the surrounding area, as if anyone would hear. Layne tried to push past her mom, but Rory sidestepped in front of her. "Don't try and walk away, Layne. Answer me right now. Where the fuck were you? Who dropped you off? Why weren't you answering me?"
Layne pushed her mom's arm out of the way and tried to move toward her room. Her dad was sitting on the couch with his arms crossed across his chest. "Layne, you better fucking answer me right now, or I'm sending you to an inpatient."
Layne threw her stuff on the kitchen counter and breathed out of her nose. "I was...hanging out with friends, and my phone died, and we didn't have a plug." she lied. Rory stared at her with her hand on her hip, and the other gripping onto the edge of the counter until her knuckles turned white. A smile crept across her face and she started to laugh, and Layne stared at her mother with narrowed eyes. "You're ridiculous." Layne muttered under her breath, trying to walk away to her room.
"You're lying!" Rory followed her, and Layne tried to slam her bedroom door, but Rory pushed it back open. "I saw Rafe call you yesterday, and then you get in the car with him. Do you think I'm that naïve?"
Layne grew red and shook her head. "We were just hanging out—"
"Do you really expect me to believe that you and Rafe were just 'hanging out'?"
Layne threw her hands up. "Fine! We're sleeping together! We have been since junior year. Is that what you so desperately wanted to know?" Rory pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. "You would realize that if you weren't so worried about yourself all the time." Layne spat, crossing her arms over her chest. She knew that wasn't fair, and she shouldn't talk to her mom like that. A putrid taste of guilt laid on her tongue.
Rory scoffed, mirroring her daughter's stance. "Yeah. That's exactly what I was thinking when I was in a hospital at one in the morning making sure you weren't emitted. Or when I was searching the beach to make sure your body wasn't washed up. Yeah—I was thinking about myself." Layne felt herself beginning to cry alongside her mom. They were so much alike it made her sick.
"I texted you and told you I was fine."
"Then you didn't answer me or any of your friends for the rest of the night and the morning. How was I supposed to assume that you were alive and not dead in a ditch somewhere? How am I supposed to know how this boy Rafe is when I've never fucking met him, and you've been with him for years?"
Layne didn't know how to answer her, and avoided eye contact. "Jesus, Layne, you treat me like shit."
Layne furrowed her eyebrows. "You treat me like shit! You don't even trust your own daughter!"
"How am I supposed to trust you Layne, when all you do is lie and disappear? I mean, there's a whole side of you I don't even know. It's like I don't even know you anymore. You've been so distant from us the past few years—now I know why. It's because of that stupid boy. He's ruining you." Rory started to cry, and Layne felt so guilty she thought she might collapse. Her head was heavy and she was thinking of how awful she has treated everyone, not just her parents, since she started seeing Rafe. He's ruining you. Rafe admitted to ruining her, too. It was only her who was blindsided to everything that was happening to her because of him.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
Rory shook her head, and Kurt creeped up behind her. "You're my daughter, Layne. I know you better than anyone in this whole fucking world. I am your mother. I know when something is wrong. You think I was never a teenage girl before? You think I didn't have fucked up relationships? Just because you're having sex with this boy doesn't mean he loves you Layne."
Layne covered her face and started to cry, kicking a pile of clothes that were by her feet. She crouched down, slumping to her knees, sobbing into her hands. Her body wracked with sobs and she could hardly breathe. "Layne—" Kurt's voice cracked, and he stepped forward, but Rory put up her arm to stop him. Rory knelt in front of her daughter, placing her hands on her face. Layne looked up at her mom, her face puffy as she tried to breathe properly again.
"I love him mommy. I don't know why." She cried, her eyes pinching shut. Rory tried not to cry seeing Layne like this, and wiped away her tears. "I know baby." She cooed, pulling her daughter close into her chest and stroked her hair.
"Please don't take him from me." Layne had never felt so pathetic in her whole life. It wasn't even thinking about her and Rafe's tumultuous relationship that made her so distraught. It was the thought of her mom not letting her see him anymore that felt like knives in her chest. She couldn't understand why, in some twisted way, she loved him so much. He was the worst person in the world. He ate away at her like a parasite.
"I won't baby." Rory didn't know if that was true. She didn't know what to do—Rafe changed Layne so much, but she couldn't bear to see her in such distress. Rory could feel Layne's pain just from touching her and watching her collapse into herself like a dying star.
"I'm sorry for lying to you for so long...I love him. He loves me. He takes care of me." Layne believed if she spoke these words they would come true, and the love she craved from Rafe would be real. Rory knew Rafe did not love her daughter. Rafe did not know if he loved Layne in a healthy way. He loved her because she was loyal. He could control her—the one thing he had control over in his whole life.
Layne was the only person who ever showed sympathy for him. She understood him in a why that he couldn't even understand about himself. He knew he didn't deserve her—but that was part of the reason why he wanted to hold onto her for so long. To prove to himself that he could be loved.
"I know sweetie. I know." Rory held Layne close to her chest, and Kurt moved up behind his wife and placed a hand on her shoulder. Rory looked up at him and saw him crying. Kurt hardly cried. Rory cried because she could not save Layne. She could only love her. She couldn't transform her—she could only console her.
authors note: OMG AN UPDATE AFTER ALL THIS TIME. this was such a sad chapter omg but my fave one to date. with the obx3 announcement (and it coming out so soon...??) i just wanted to get this published again and gained so much inspo to write??? but yeah. this show lowkey highkey bad but i'm gonna pretend its great so i can write rafe and layne <//3