I'm A Giver, He's the Moon
chapter xiv
warnings: self harm,
mentions of suicide
LAYNE WAKES UP the next morning to hear the rain dripping off the roof right outside her window. Despite the fact that it had stormed so hard the night before, the sky was still bright, the sun high over the trees and clouds. Luna was still curled up in her bed, sound asleep, and Layne catches herself staring out the window. She could hear her parents rummaging around in the kitchen, and when she went to turn on the lamp beside her bed to see if the power was back on, it didn't click on. Her fans weren't oscillating and she was covered in a thick film of sweat, matting her hair to her forehead that had been pulled back into a messy ponytail.
Layne rested a hand on her forehead and groaned when she tried to lift it off the pillow. She had cried so much last night she wasn't sure if she had any liquids left in her body—it was almost like the rain pouring from the skies was equivalent to the tears that had cascaded down her cheeks the night before. For a moment yesterday, Layne felt OK. But it seemed like the weight of their break up was especially hard right now. Glancing down at her arm, there was dried blood from where she had bit down on herself the night before. The wimpy band aid she had to keep putting over that particular part of her body was brown with blood and she peeled it off with a hiss. There were red and painful teeth marks in the wake of it, that she tenderly touched.
"Fuck." she muttered to herself, pushing her head back down on the pillow and resting her hands over her face. The skin around her eyes was dry from wiping away her tears and she rubbed aggressively until some eyelashes came off. Layne wasn't even sure if she had cried that much during a good majority of the times that they had fought before. Part of her felt guilty, maybe—that she shouldn't have been talking and hanging out with Matty. But her and Rafe weren't together anymore. She shouldn't care, but she did. His voicemail only made her even more upset.
Rolling over with a groan, Layne tried to plug her phone into the charger, but nothing happened. There was still no power, and when she peeked out of the window to look outside, trees and branches were strewn all over the yard—the marsh was a mess littered with debris from the storm. Even with the sun peeking out and being as orange as ever, there was still thunder rumbling in the distance, as if the storm wasn't completely done yet and wanted to assert its dominance on the towns it was going to ravish next. Layne was shocked that their house hadn't flood.
Layne dragged her feet on the ground as she tried to leave her room—nearly tripping over some objects strewn on the ground that she must have knocked over in her feeble attempt to run onto her bed last night. Her head hurt as though she were hungover, and her whole body felt that way too—as though she had drank more than her body weight the night prior and was waiting to collapse. Her eyes weren't adjusting to the dimness of the house, as the windows were still boarded shut.
"You scared me." Rory jumped, and Layne only briefly smiled to herself. "Sorry." she whispered, leaning against the counter. Kurt was trying to pry the boards off the windows, letting the orange sunlight peek through the blinds. "Agatha was a bitch." he grunted, throwing the boards on the ground with a thump. Layne jumped and Rory handed her a granola bar. Layne looked at it with distaste.
"It's thing we have that didn't spoil." she shrugged, taking a sip out of a water bottle. Layne flickered a smile at her and nodded her head, gingerly peeling the wrapper off the sticky granola. The chocolate was halfway melted because the scalding conditions of the house, and Layne tried to redo the pony tail that was sticking to the nape of her neck. Luna stretched out across the kitchen counter, purring gently, and Layne reached out her hand to let her fur run underneath her fingers.
"Did you sleep OK?" Rory asked, leaning her chin in her palm. Layne tried to avoid eye contact with her mother, and just shrugged. "Could've been better." All she hoped was that Rory didn't hear her crying. It was safe to say that she hadn't—the storm was loud, and there were several doors between the pair of them. Layne felt like a piece of her was missing without her phone. It was a love-hate relationship, but it was unhealthy nonetheless. She wasn't sure why she was so reliant on her cell phone, but she supposed it just came with the generation. But even though she couldn't see if Rafe was texting her, sending her voicemails, or anything, it didn't make her feel much better. It also made her feel worse because her brain was silent.
"The storm was loud." Layne muttered, and Kurt looked over his shoulder as if to say, obviously. Layne mused and took a small bite of the granola, almost wanting to spit it out. She didn't have much of an appetite, and felt like she was going to vomit. Clearing her throat, she tossed the bar in the garbage, and Rory nearly fished it out. "You need to eat, honey." Layne shook her head and tossed her hair off her shoulder.
"Dad, when will the internet come back?" She asked, toying with her dead phone in her hand. Kurt groaned as he was stacking up the plywood near the door to the garage. He stretched and put his hands on his hips. "Shit, I mean—I'm not sure, Layney. I was going to talk to Billy about getting one of the generators, but we saved most of it for the store."
Layne perked up a bit, narrowing her eyes. "So the store has internet?"
"Well, yeah—"
"Perfect." She smiled, jumping off the stool at the island and bouncing back to her room. "Layne!" Rory called out, following her quickly. "Can you seriously not go that long without your phone?"
Layne was stretching herself out of her clothes, rummaging through her drawers to pull out a semi-clean pair. She couldn't recall the last time she did laundry and it was starting to form a daunting pile on the ground. "I just—I need to make sure that Alberto doesn't need my help at the marina or anything. It's probably a mess there." Rory tried to follow, and just stood with her arms crossed over her chest in the doorway.
"I guess so. Are you sure Alberto even wants you to come in?"
Layne shrugged, pulling a t-shirt over her head and shorts over her legs. She was pretty positive the marina probably wasn't even open—maybe just to clean up, like every other business was doing. But she needed to charge her phone because she didn't like not knowing what Rafe was up to. She almost wanted to see the messages he was leaving her—to see how desperate he was. Layne thought she would feel powerful in a moment like this, but it really was the opposite. She felt weak and sick to her stomach. Him begging for her back didn't feel as empowering as she thought it was. For a moment, maybe, she had a taste of how he felt—to have him wrapped around her finger, like he had her—but it felt fabricated. It felt fake, superficial.
Layne could still find it in her heart to care about him, though. She wasn't sure she'd ever stop caring for him. It was a fundamental part of their relationship—one always cared more than the other. Layne was always the one to care more.
"Are you sure this isn't about something else?" Rory stopped Layne before she could leave her bedroom, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Or should I say, someone else." Her voice was stern, and slightly sad, but Layne just ran her hands over her face and shook her head. "No. It's—no. I don't want to talk about it." She avoided eye contact with Rory. "That's not why I want to go. I just need to charge my phone. You can come with me if you want."
It was almost as if Rory could read her mind—she was just saying that. She didn't actually want her to come. But Layne knew how disappointed Rory would be if she knew that Layne wanted to talk to Rafe. No, she wasn't going to talk to him. She was just going to see what he was saying to her.
"OK. Just—go through the back door. Alright?" Layne smiled at her briefly and nodded her head, moving to push through the doorway. Rory grabbed her arm gingerly. "Be smart." Layne felt such a sinking feeling in her stomach she didn't even know what to do about it other than have the overwhelming urge to cry. Looking at her mom for a brief moment, Layne nodded again, and just wordlessly walking to the front door and grabbed her keys. Kurt called out something after her, but Layne didn't really hear him, because everything sounded like she was underwater.
The drive to the shop was relatively scary. There were trees and branches sprawled on the streets, power lines down, and even the traffic lights didn't work. It was almost like a ghost town—people were retrieving back into their homes because the storm was still looming. But most people still had to go to work—that was life on the Cut. You worked even during the worst of times while Figure Eight could hide in their generator-operated, air conditioned homes and sip chardonnay while watching the pool boys fish out debris.
It was oddly quiet, too—not that Kildare was very loud to begin with—but it sounded as though everything, even animals, ceased to exist. Layne had to roll up the windows because the silence was so loud it was making her uncomfortable. When she pulled up the shop, all of the windows and doors were boarded up, with branches strewn throughout the parking lot. Layne tried to move some of them, and she was nearly ankle deep in water in the street. She suddenly grew worried that the store flooded as well, but it was further inland than their home so she doubted it would happen.
Rearing the store, Layne punched in the security code and pried open the door. When she flicked the lights, it took several seconds before the electricity kicked on from the generator. She couldn't understand why the store had generators but not their home, but she learned not to argue. The store looked relatively untouched—there was no water or anything soiling the inside, but it did smell musty and it was overly humid. Layne was too lazy to go boot up the AC so she just searched for an outlet and plugged in her cord.
Her phone lit up with the dead battery screen, and she just sighed while resting it atop the register counter. It would take a few minutes for it gain enough juice to start, so she paced through the quiet store and ran her fingers through the clothes on the racks. The silence and absence of people gave her chills. She didn't like the quiet and didn't want to be there by herself. It felt like something was going to jump out at her. Layne ogled at some of the wet suits and the price tags, scrunching up her nose. She didn't understand how they still lived on the Cut when they sold stuff that was this expensive. Layne didn't understand how most things worked in her life.
About two minutes later, she walked back over to her phone and saw that it turned on. There were 30 texts from Rafe, and 20 missed calls. Her eyes widened and wondered if it was actually him, or if he got possessed by some otherworldly entity. Even the other times she "broke up" with him, he never was this desperate. Layne partly assumed it was because he was doing drugs again. That's when he got the worst—when he was falling down that rabbit hole again.
She scrolled through the texts—it was like he was copying and pasting everything he had said before. Regardless, it made her chest hurt. He was pleading for her to at least call him—Layne wondered if maybe this was the time he would actually get better. Maybe this would be the time when he actually got his act together. Her finger hovered over his contact, clicking on it without thinking. Hesitantly holding it up to her ear, it rang a few times before he answered, sounding like her call had woken him up.
"Layne?" He answered groggily, and his voice sent chills down her back. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and not answering him, but wanted to let him know she was there. "Layne? Hello? You there?" He groaned, and it sounded like he was moving up on his bed. Layne furrowed her brows together.
"Did I wake you up? I can call you back—"
"No, no, it's fine, please—please just stay on." He whispered, and Layne heard a door shut on the other end. She grimaced, moving to sit down on the semi-damp ground. "OK." She whispered, as though she was hiding something, or hiding from someone. She could imagine him on the other end—shirtless, probably in his underwear, sweating because he always did in his sleep, no matter the temperature. His hair was messy, because he always ran his hands over his face and through his hair—he was probably hunched over with his head in his hands. Layne hugged her knees close to her chest and stared at the dried up injury on the nook of her elbow.
"Why weren't you answering me?" He asked, and Layne pursed her lips as though he could see her through the phone. "I don't know." She heard him sigh, frustrated, on the other end. "Listen—I know you're mad at me baby, I know...I'm sorry. I really am. How many times do I have to say it?"
Layne picked at the scab on her knee from when a shell cut her surfing. She winced a bit at the pain but overall enjoyed it. She deserved it for not answering him when he was obviously in distress.
"You scare me." She whispered, biting her lip as to not cry. It was quiet on his end for a bit, and he blew air out of his mouth. "I know baby, I know...I just—I don't know who I am without you. Can we please see each other? Just to talk?"
Layne swallowed, watching an ant crawl on the floor and squashing it with her foot. "I—I don't..." she closed her eyes and felt a tear fall down her cheek and wiped it away rapidly as if she was scared of him seeing her weak. "I guess..." there was a sigh of relief on his end, and Layne wasn't sure whether to feel relief too, or to feel an unbearable weight on her shoulder. Her breaths were coming out shaky, and she tried to hold them so he wouldn't hear. "I can pick you up later today. If you want." He asked, and Layne licked her lips.
"That sounds good."
"What time?"
"Whenever you want."
Rafe cleared his throat. "OK—I'll pick you up around seven?" Layne knew she didn't have much of a choice when it came to a timeframe. She knew he would actually pick her up closer to eight anyway. Rafe normally liked how complacent she was but this time it just seemed off. He stared at the tiny ziplock bag on his nightstand and hit the side of his head to get it off his mind.
"Layne? Is that OK?"
Layne had forgotten to answer. "Uh—yeah. That's perfect." She lied. None of this was perfect and she wanted so badly to pull the hair from her skull. "I love you." He muttered after a few seconds of silence, and Layne blinked some more tears out of her eyes before hanging up wordlessly. Hanging her head low, she let her phone hit the ground and attempted to steadily control her tears and breathing. Leaning her head back on the wall behind her, Layne breathed out loudly, grabbing her phone off the ground and clicking Matty's contact. She wasn't sure why she decided to call him, and knew he probably wouldn't answer, but she just needed someone to talk to who wasn't her mother or Rafe.
It took a few rings before he picked up, sounding like he was out of breath. "Hey." She croaked, and he coughed on the other end.
"Hey, what's up? You OK?"
"Yeah, I just—I guess I just wanted to talk to you."
There was a beat of silence. "Yeah...I've been wanting to talk to you too."
Layne smiled, and when she caught herself, she immediately stopped. "I'm surprised your phone is working." She continued to pick at the scab on her knee until it bled. "Yeah—I'm up at a friends place. They managed to snag a generator somehow."
"Someone in the Cut has a generator?"
"Nah, I know—don't wanna know what they had to do to get it." He laughed, and Layne did as well. "You can come over here if you don't have power." He mingled in the silence and tried to backtrack. "Only if you want, obviously." Layne pinched the bridge of her nose, and shook her head as though he could see her.
"Oh uh—I shouldn't. Gotta stay back and help clean up, y'know." Layne couldn't help but start crying, and she didn't know why. It was like she pent it up for the whole duration of the phone call with Rafe that it all just came spilling out. Matty was silent on the other end, but she could hear him shuffling around as if he sat up in a panic. "Layne, you OK?" He asked, and Layne only felt more embarrassed, stuffing her head in her hands.
"Sorry...sorry I don't know what's wrong with me." She whimpered, her voice coming out shaky. Matty breathed loudly on the other end. "Did something happen?" He asked, and Layne only shook her head as though he could see her. "I'm sorry." She whispered, viciously wiping the tears away from her face. She felt guilty for calling him and trying to put all of her drama in his life. He didn't want this. Layne wasn't even sure if she wanted this.
"Tell me what's wrong." He whispered, as though he didn't want anyone to hear.
"I just—I don't know, something happened and I guess I just...wanted someone to call." Her words didn't make sense, and when she heard herself speak, Layne wanted to curl up into a ball and never leave—just rot in the store, melt into the linoleum floors until she was apart of the earth. Matty sighed on the other end, and cleared his throat. "What happened? You can't just call me crying out of nowhere, Layne, and then not tell me what's wrong. Is it Rafe?"
She was silent, and Matty took that as an answer. Breathing loudly out of his mouth, he now felt awkward even being on the phone with her. "What did he do now?" Layne thought he sounded like he was sick of her. They had just met not that long ago, but she already felt like he hated her. He probably did. He probably only wanted to sleep with her. "He kept calling me, so I called him back..."
"And?"
"I'm talking with him later today."
Matty was silent on the other end, and Layne felt the quiet like daggers in her ears. She knew she was overstepping boundaries and felt bad for putting him on the spot, but she couldn't tell her mom she was getting back together with Rafe, and she didn't have any friends anymore. "OK. Um—what do you want me to say? Do you want me to talk you out of it?" He sounded condescending, but he didn't mean to be. If anything, Matty was genuinely curious as to what she wanted him to do to help her. He wanted to help.
Layne swallowed thickly and scrunched her eyebrows together, tears forming in her tear ducts. She felt offended, almost, and as though he was dismissing her. "I mean—no, I guess not."
Matty felt as confused as she did. "What do you want me to say?"
Layne felt her face go hot and she pulled the phone away from her cheek, trying to regather her breaths and shook her head. "Nothing. Sorry for bothering you." She retracted the phone again and hung up, without hearing what he had to say. Inhaling deeply, she pushed herself up off the ground, and watched as her phone hit closer and closer to 50%. It didn't take that long for it to charge, so she decided to wait it out until it hit 100. She contemplated going to the marina to see if Alberto needed her help cleaning up, but saw that he hadn't texted or called her, and decided she was probably better off not showing. She was fearful she'd see the Camerons.
Layne fixed some of the things in the story that had gotten disheveled because of the storm, ignoring the buzzing texts from Matty. Since she called Rafe, he hadn't really texted her other to say he had a surprise for her tonight. Layne really couldn't care less and just felt tired. She took a garbage bag outside and tried to clean up the scattered debris and litter that was displayed throughout the parking lot. She rounded to the storefront, picking at some of the garbage and tossing it in the bag. Only a few cars drove down the street, splashing water up at her feet as most of the roads were still flooded and the storm drains weren't helping.
The sky was still cloudy, despite the calm, and there was thunder rumbling in the far distance. Layne had almost forgotten about Rafe and Matty while she was cleaning—it was almost therapeutic. The sounds of the town carrying on around her and kids riding their bikes down the nearly flooded streets. Kildare seemed to move on even though a storm, and lack of power. Since their store was basically in Figure Eight, it was like an entirely different town. Driving through the Cut was scary, as though living in an apocalypse. Meanwhile, Figure Eight was able to move on as though nothing happened. It almost made Layne angry.
Dumping multiple bags of trash into the dumpster, Layne pushed her way back into the store and wiped away the sweat accumulating on her forehead. She checked her phone, seeing that there were several missed texts and calls from Matty, apologizing because he didn't know what he did wrong. Layne didn't know what he did, either, but she was overly insecure and analytical of everything anyone said to her to the point where it ruined everything for her. So she unplugged her phone, stared at the message Rafe had sent her until her eyes started to water, then grabbed her things and head out the door. It took a few tries for her to get the security code correct, hearing the familiar beeps before she could properly leave. Jiggling the keys, she fumbled a bit from nerves before putting the right one into the lock.
When she slid into the drivers seat, she stared at Rafe's text again, unsure of what to say, so she didn't respond. She knew her read receipts were on, because Rafe had turned them on once when she was sleeping because he didn't like not knowing if she read his texts or not. Layne never bothered to turn them off. After she turned off her phone and cranked the ignition of her car, her phone buzzed with another message from Rafe.
You seriously not going to answer me?
Layne leaned her head against the steering wheel, letting out a groan and slammed her hands down on the wheel. She wanted to scream, shattered all the windows of her car and of the store, send the birds fleeing from their spots on the ground picking at nonsense left over from the storm. She wanted everyone to hear her, so that they could scream too. But she bit her lip so hard she bled, and winced when she touched it.
"Fuck." She breathed out, throwing her phone on the passenger seat and aggressively put the car in drive. For some reason, she wanted a cigarette—part of her itched to do something rebellious for once. To not have someone make a decision for her. As if smoking cigarettes was the most rebellious thing she had ever done.
She was shocked that the gas station was open, and especially the fact that people were actually filling their cars with gas after the hurricane. But of course, some people still had work, and had places to be. A few people stared at her as she got out of her car, slamming the door shut and stepping into the tiny shop like she was used to doing it.
There were a few people, not many, and the cashier was fiddling with a slinky behind the counter. His face with riddled with cystic acne and he looked to be about twenty-two or twenty-three. He looked at her when she walked up to the counter, and she tried not to make eye contact, ogling the cigarettes behind him because she didn't know which one to pick.
"Can I help you?" He sniffed, sticking his hands deep in his pockets. Layne blew air out of her mouth, unsure of what to do. She had never tried to buy anything underaged before. Most times, Rafe bought it for her—in college, she never really went out so she didn't need to. Her hands were shaking so she shoved them in her pocket. "Could I uh—could I get a back of Newports?" She snatched a lighter off the side counter. "And this."
The guy stared at her, with his brow perched, and tilted his head to the side. "Can I see your ID please?" His teeth were yellow and he reeked of weed. Layne swallowed the dryness of her throat and pat down her pockets, feigning confusion. "Shit I uh—I don't have it with me."
"You don't have your ID? Didn't you drive here?"
Layne opened her mouth to answer, but just felt overly embarrassed, and could feel her face turning a bright red. There was a queue forming behind her. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and rocked on her heels. "Please?" She squeaked, and the guy tilted his head towards the door. There were cops outside. She looked at him, slightly understanding, and just left wordlessly.
The fresh air outside felt refreshing. The cops were sipping coffee, leaning on the hoods of their cars. They weren't doing much—the electrical companies and firemen were the ones cleaning up the mess. They were just mandating it. She stood on the small sidewalk between the store and the parking lot, trying to control her breathing. Suddenly, she felt suffocated. It seemed as though nothing was going her way. She just wanted a cigarette and couldn't even get it because she was stupid and looked twelve. Layne stared down at her body, skinny and bruised, and she wondered if she was even here. She tapped her fingers against her thighs ten times on each hand to make sure that she was really real, breathing, alive, and not in a dream.
The cops stared at her, suspiciously, and Layne quickly diverted her gaze and walked to her car. The cool after the storm was short lived as the sun was blazing high in the sky, and she couldn't tell if she was sweating because of the heat or because she was on the verge of a panic attack. She tried leaning her head against the steering wheel, to try and contain her breathing, but every time she closed her eyes, Rafe painted the back of her eyelids and it would make her panic more. It startled her to think about him, and to think about the fact that she was going to see him tonight, and chances were, she was going to get back together with him. Layne had a terrible tendency to fall for his illegitimate promises—and even befriending Matty wouldn't help her.
Tucking her head down to her chest, Layne kept opening and closing her eyes, and could feel her heartbeat all over her body. "Fuck." She whispered to herself, but it made her lose more air, and suddenly she couldn't breathe again. She wasn't sure if she should drive in this state. She was startled out of her daze when someone knocked on the window. It was one of the officers, and Layne's face turned ashen pale. Hesitantly, she rolled down the window, the breeze floating into her car. His face was screwed up in a mix of concern and suspicion.
"You OK sweetheart?" He asked, and Layne couldn't help but look at how the sun reflected off his bald head. Inhaling, she nodded her head. "Uh—yeah. I'm OK. Just had a bit of anxiety." She wanted to punch herself in the face. Claiming she was having anxiety after coming out of a gas station—that sold alcohol, nicotine, and tobacco—was basically selling herself out. "Right." He said after a second of nodding.
"Get out of here before you give me a reason to keep talking to you." He knocked his hand on the inside of her car, and she nearly jumped before quickly winding up her window and backing out of the parking lot. She kept crying on the way home and was trying to control her breathing, trying not to close her eyes as she was on the road. Every time she hit a red light, she would screw her eyes shut, inhale and exhale deeply. Her heartbeat was mellowing a bit, but it still felt like there was a rock lodged in her throat.
She still had several hours before nightfall. When she pulled up to her house, she could see her parents in the backyard trying to pick up the debris from the storm. Her heart thumped in her chest and she wondered if they hated her. I love you, but I don't like you right now. Her mother had said something like that to her once. It made her feel like Rafe.
Layne sat in her car for a minute before getting out and heading towards the house. She didn't even bother to put her keys down before going to the small screen door that led to the backyard, wincing at the holes in the screen windows in the sun room from the storm. They had an old radio perched on a tree stump and Linda Ronstadt crackled from it. Layne was surprised any radio station was still working, but then a mans voice erupted after the faded You're No Good ending and began giving nearly undecipherable updates about Agatha. There were apparently going to be a few more hectic storms before the end of the summer.
"Hey love. How was the store? You were there for quite a bit." Rory blocked her eyes from the sun with gloved hand, panting slightly from thick, heavy tossing branches in a pile. Layne leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. She was worried if she walked outside, into the proper sunlight, Rory would be able to tell that she had been crying. "Uh—it was fine. No water damage, shockingly. I cleaned it up a bit—the outside too. There was just shit everywhere." Rory nodded her head along her words, and dropped a branch in the pile. Layne peeked back into the house and saw the not a single light was on.
"Still no power?" She asked, and Kurt shook his head. Layne blew air out of her mouth. "There are some guys working on the power lines throughout the Cut. Hopefully we'll have power by the morning." Kurt grunted as he threw a hefty branch into the pile that had been accumulating. Layne watched them do so, and told them she was going to the bathroom and would come out to help them.
She helped her parents clean up the back and front yards for the rest of the day, and they took a break to down some water bottles and lemonade that Kurt had stuffed into a cooler since the fridge still wasn't working. They had to throw out all the perishables which left their fridge look barren and empty. It made Layne's stomach growl.
Layne hardly did anything for her appearance waiting for Rafe. Part of her felt like she might've need to, since he wouldn't want to see her all sweaty and frazzled—but she didn't care anymore. Being around him, and be ready for him, just made her feel drained and exhausted. She could hardly even bring herself to wash her face, so she just splashed some water, because rubbing the soap into her skin was too much effort. She applied deodorant and body spray, changed into new underwear and clothes. Everything else stayed the same.
Rafe texted her at 6:45 that he was there to pick her up. He was early instead of late. It made her heart stop in her chest, and Layne just stared at the text message for a while before he texted her again to make sure she got the first one. Her hands were sweating and shaking. She couldn't understand why she was acting like this—she had seen him merely a few days prior. But something about seeing him, and hearing him talking, sitting in his sweaty car with his hand on her leg made her nauseous. She almost ran to the bathroom to vomit but pulled aggressively on her own hair to stop her from feeling so stupid, but it only made her feel worse.
Her parents were sitting in the sun room with battery-powered, hand held fans and lukewarm beers. Layne poked her head out for a second. "I'm uh—going to get dinner with Rafe." She lied. They looked startled, particularly Rory, who nearly sprung from her seat. "Sorry, what?"
"He's here. I'll explain later."
"Oh—OK. Be smart." She called out after her, and Layne dashed across the house to the front door. He was waiting with the headlights on in front of her driveway, and she could see his face illuminated by his cellphone from the window. Layne stood there for a minute—as though she couldn't move her feet—and anxiously writhed her hands together. She didn't move until Rafe threw his head up to look out the window, and spotted her, giving her a brief and lazy wave. She almost hid behind the door, before cursing herself for being so pathetic. It took her a few seconds before she jogged to his car door, partly still conditioned to hide, and quickly sat down. It was still light out and it felt like everyone was watching her through their windows.
It was quiet, very quiet that it sent chills down her back and goosebumps over her limbs. She felt cold—even though it was scorching hot—and Layne anxiously scratched her bare leg just to have something to do with her hands. He attempted to grab her hand but she flinched away. Rafe looks at her through his eyelashes, clenching and unclenching his fist before switching gears and slowly driving off. The radio wasn't even on, and Layne tried to open the window, but the child lock was on. Rafe heard the clicking, watching her out of the corner of his eyes, before swiftly moving to put the window down. "Sorry." He whispered. It was the first word he had said.
Layne didn't even know where they were going. "Where are you taking me?" She asked after a moment, her voice breaking. Rafe kept one hand on the steering wheel, and one free, putting it in between them as if begging her to hold it. He swallowed. "You'll see."
She didn't like that. Part of her felt like she needed to keep track of how many turns they were making as though she were blindfolded and kidnapped. She gripped the hem of her shirt and tugged on her lower lip, flinching slightly at the cut she forgot she had. He kept clenching his jaw, she noticed, when she would look at him through her peripheral. He would glance at her and she would quickly look away.
By the time the sun was setting (Layne loved how late the sun stayed up in the summer) Rafe had parked them in front of the beach. He reached to the back seat, and Layne was scared he was going to ask her to go back there, but he just pulled out a blanket and a large paper bag. Her heart skipped and she felt her eyes welling, and she wasn't sure why. She felt almost guilty—like he was just trying to be nice, and she was paranoid like he was going to kill her.
He opened the door, and ran over to her side to open hers for her. Layne wasn't even sure if she wanted to get out of the car. Her seatbelt was digging into her skin and she felt as though she were melting into the seat. "Are you going to get out?" He said, gently. Layne had never heard his voice sound so gentle it made her want to scream. Wordlessly, Layne unbuckled herself, stepping out of the car and letting Rafe close the door behind her. She jumped a bit at the noise and he noticed.
"I'm not going to hurt you." He muttered, standing in front of her, but she didn't lift her head up and just stared at his chest. He sighed, softly grabbing her hand, and Layne flinched but let him guide her onto the beach nonetheless. It was a mess there—there was debris everywhere from the storm, and it was obvious Rafe hadn't thought of that when he was planning this before. Layne almost wanted to laugh imagining him planning anything, let alone a date on a hurricane-stricken beach.
It took him a minute to scavenge the beach in silence to find an empty spot for them to set up the blanket. It took Layne a minute to realize it was the boneyard. "Is this the surprise?" She asked suddenly, while Rafe was squatting to make sure the lumps of sand underneath the blanket were flattened. He took his hat off to run his hand through his hair before perching it back on. "Part of it." He sighed, grunting as he sat down. He took her hand and gently pulled her down to sit next to him. He took wine and a few plastic glasses out of the paper bag, and Layne almost giggled again. Rafe never drank wine. It was blatantly obvious he had taken advice from Sarah or Wheezie to conjure this up. It was so out of character.
He had gotten a twist off cap bottle of white wine, and Layne suspected it was because he had never used a wine opener before. She toyed with her fingers until he handed her one of the plastic glasses that was generously filled almost to the brim. Chewing on her lip, she hesitantly took it, and she wasn't sure why. He watched her carefully—as though he was suspecting her—and chuckled lowly to himself.
"I didn't poison it, if that's what you think." He poured himself a half-filled glass and took a tender sip. She could tell by his face that he didn't like the taste of it. She swirled the wine around in her glass, and looked at him knowingly before taking a sip. He sighed.
"Sometimes I think I can read your mind." He pulled his one knee up to his chest as he says so, leaning back on his hand. Layne kept staring at the white wine in her cup and the few grains of sand that had fallen in. Her mouth filled with sour saliva as she held back the rock in her throat.
"I wish I could read your mind." Layne whispers, toying with the rim of the glass. He leaned forward to plant a kiss on her bare shoulder and she winced, looking away to the crashing waves. The calm after the storm. The clouds had parted. Maybe that was metaphorical for her life. There were no clouds when he was with her. She couldn't understand why that was.
"Thank you for meeting me." He still stayed so close to her skin that she could feel his breath, but she refused to look at him, because she though she might cry. "Seriously, Layne. You're a good person—and I know I've been the worst. I know, now, why you don't want to be with me." He was quiet, so quiet that Layne thought maybe she had imagined his words along with the whispered winds from the ocean. Sometimes she wished to be like the ocean. Coming and going—calm yet hostile. Beautiful and cherished.
"Can you look at me?" He pleaded, his hand delicately reaching for the base of her throat. She flinched away, growing nervous, because the last time he touched her throat he nearly choked her. Rafe noticed her frigid stature and how she caved into herself, and he felt a rock in his throat, too. He sat up completely, moving himself so he was right in front of her, forcing her to look at him.
"I'm sorry. So fucking sorry. You have to believe me, Layne. I know I say this all the time—but really, I am trying to be better. You show me how to be better. When I'm with you—I don't need all that superficial, stupid shit. I don't need coke, nothing. I just need you." He placed his cup down in the sand, taking hers and doing the same so he could hold her hands. Layne looked at him, looked in his eyes, and wondered if he was just an incredibly good manipulator, or if really meant what he said. Sniffling, she tried to blink and breathe away the tears burning her eyes. His thumbs were stroking her knuckles, and she closed her eyes, hanging her head low in defeat.
"Do you mean it? Do you?"
Rafe adjusted in his seat so he could get closer to her. "Of course I do. I've never meant anything more in my life," he moved one hand to brush away a strand of her hair that had fallen out of her pony tail. "The only time I ever want to do—drugs—is when we're angry at each other. Or when we've broken up." Layne knew for a fact that that wasn't true, but he looked so sad that she couldn't even bother to care.
"You're my girl, you know that?" He whispered, a flicker of a smile on his face, and Layne physically felt her shoulders fall as she melted into the sand. She wished he would bury her alive here so she'd forever be reminded of him saying that. You're my girl.
"I have something for you." He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small box. Layne's heart stammered, because for some reason, she thought it was an engagement ring, but then she realized how stupid she was being. He slipped the box into her hands. Layne looked up at him for a moment, as if asking for permission, and he nodded his head. Plucking it open, her heart stammered again. It was a gaudy Tiffany locket. It was ugly and she hated it. But he was smiling like he had accomplished something grand—like this gesture of superficial love was going to make her melt.
Layne had remembered asking for a necklace from him once, with a dainty R initial. Not like he owned her—even though he really acted like it—but because he knew her very well. Part of Layne wanted to belong to someone. It didn't have to have negative connotations. Feigning a smile, Layne nodded her head. "Wow—thank you, Rafe. It's beautiful."
Rafe chuckled a bit. "Really?" He said, as though he was unsure. She nodded her head, brushing away a tear that she knew he thought was over his gesture, but she was really crying because it felt like he didn't know her at all, but he did know everything about her. He just didn't listen.
"Yes, I love it." Her voice cracked a bit, and he sat up confidently. "Let me put it on you." She turned around, and he gently pulled the necklace out of its box. He brushed her hair off her back and over her shoulder. It took him a few moments to fumble with the clasp, given his hands were so big, before he delicately placed it around the base of her throat and closed it in the back.
His hands brushed over her shoulders before she turned back around. He leaned in to kiss her innocently. For once, he was kissing her without the intentions of sex. His hands weren't roaming all over her, and just stayed gently intertwined with her own. He pulled away after a moment and Layne couldn't tell if she felt fulfilled, or like he sucked the life out of her.
"I'll always take care of you. You know that, right?" He mumbled, toying with her fingers. He stared at the locket resting on her chest like it was a branding. Layne realized he said that more than I love you, because she knew it was hard for him to push those words out to anyone, not just her. It didn't make her feel any less pathetic, though.
"I know." She croaked, inhaling shakily. He went in to kiss her again, and they did for about a minute before her phone started buzzing erratically by her leg. Layne had almost forgotten it was there, and opened her eyes before he broke the kiss to see it was Matty calling her. Her heart dropped. He broke the kiss after the buzzing continued, and stared down at her phone. Rafe looked back and forth between her and the screen, and his once warm face suddenly turned cold.
"Why is he calling you?" He asked, and Layne gulped.
"Uh—he's just a friend."
Rafe picked up her phone before she could stop him and declined the call. He handed the phone to her. "I don't want to do this, but I don't trust you, Layne." His demeanor had flipped like a switch and Layne had suddenly remembered why she broke up with him the other day. She felt her chest starting to compress again and she thought she might have a panic attack.
"Delete his number."
Layne's eyes widened and she felt her stomach drop like someone had reached through the sand and torn it out of her. "What?"
Rafe sighed loudly and grabbed her hand and put her phone in it. "We need to trust each other to make it work. We broke up because of him. Do you think it won't happen again if you keep talking to him?"
Layne wasn't sure what to say and just blinked.
"Layne, please. Do this for me, then we can be happy again."
Happy again. We were never happy before.
He sighed loudly as if he could read her mind. Sometimes I think I can read your mind.
"We can be happy. We can make it work this time. I'll stay clean. He won't be there to break us up—he's just like your other friends. He's jealous of us. He likes you. You think he doesn't want to fuck you?" His words almost made her want to cover her ears so she couldn't hear him. "I'm a guy, I know how they think. I know what he's thinking. He just wants to ruin what we have." Layne felt awful for believing him. Matty probably was only listening to her talk because he wanted to have sex with her. He was probably only keeping contact with her because she was single now—was single. The phone stopped ringing and his voicemail popped up.
"Don't listen to it. Don't call him back. Just delete it, or I'll do it for you." His hand was resting on her knee next to her phone. Layne looked between him and her phone, and thought for a second—only a second—before quickly opening her phone. She scrolled to Matty's contact, her hands shaking. She scrolled to the bottom, with the red bold letters, Block Contact. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tapped it, immediately retracting her hands like it contained a disease. She'd text AJ later and ask for his number back.
"See? Not that hard. Now delete his friends number, too."
Layne felt like sobbing. Her hands were starting to twitch with anxious tremors. You're my girl. She scrolled to AJ's number and blocked him too. Her expression looked as though someone had punched her in the stomach.
"That's my girl." He smirked, placed a hand behind her head and pulling her close to place a kiss. She wasn't sure why she was shaking so bad, and why she was so sad. She didn't know Matty very well—but she supposed she was so upset because Rafe had reeled her back in so easily and made her do exactly what he wanted. It made her sick how pathetic she was, she wanted to tear open the cuts on her elbows, take the razor in the bathroom and slit it across her throat. She wanted to die. Sometimes she thought killing herself was the only way to escape Rafe.
Between the pair of them, they finished two bottles of wine and a box of chocolate covered strawberries. Layne's head was fuzzy and she felt herself growing drunk. Too drunk that she wasn't even worried about Rafe driving. She laid down on the blanket at one point, half her body submerged in the cold sand, and stared up at the stars and the moon. Layne remembered her old, infant dreams of being an astronaut. It felt so far away—like she had aged twelve decades instead of one.
Layne wished she could live among the stars and the solar system. She wished she could float away and go to any planet she wanted. She closed her eyes and imagined what her life would be if she never had sex with Rafe two years ago. She was much happier—she might've even gone to college far away, like she had planned. Somewhere like California where the waves were high and the sun was orange. Layne worked with marine animals during the day and went surfing when night fell. She'd go home to her faceless, kind boyfriend, who would make them dinner every night. She'd wash the dishes in the sink with soapy hands, and he would kiss her shoulder blade and the skin behind her ear. They'd make love and she wouldn't want to peel her skin off afterwards. She wouldn't harm herself, starve herself, or think about killing herself to escape him. She had many friends who all cared for her and complimented her and wanted to see her happy. Her parents would visit and end up moving there when they retired. She had a dog who ran around the kitchen and a cat who prowled across the furniture.
When she opened her eyes, she was back in OBX, eons away from ever having that life. Rafe laid down next to her, his arm propped behind his head. Perhaps this was what she deserved. Obviously she deserved this, or else it wouldn't happen. She didn't know why this would happen if she didn't deserve it. Sometimes he feels like a person she could really, truly love—other times he feels like a complete fucking stranger.
"You don't love me in a way I understand." She whispered, and when she turned to look at him, she realized he was asleep. He only hummed in response, before sighing loudly and falling back asleep. Layne turned over, feeling some rain drop on her face, and placed her hands so harshly over her mouth so he couldn't hear her cries, to the point where she felt the indents of her teeth through her skin. The locket was cold against her skin, yet it felt like fire. She wanted to rip it off and throw it in the ocean so she'd never see it again. It started to rain harder, where Rafe shot awake. His eyes were still hooded as he was trying to ward off the drunk that was creeping up on him. His lips were stained red from when they drank the second bottle, which was Pinot Noir. It must have been an expensive bottle, because Layne actually liked it.
He drove her home, and she almost cried as he swerved. The traffic lights on some streets were still out, so she had to hold onto the side of the door to make sure she didn't fly around the car when he turned and sped through intersections. He didn't have his seatbelt on.
He kissed her goodnight when they pulled up to her house. "Call me in the morning." He mumbled, and Layne could tell he was getting drunk. She nodded, and leaned her head down when she closed the door. "Can you text me when you get home safe?" She asked, her hand subconsciously reaching up to clutch onto the locket. He nodded his head, giving her a brief smile. Then he drove away. Layne stood in the street for a moment, clutching so tightly onto the locket she thought it could pierce the skin of her palm.
When she went inside, the power was shockingly back on. Layne had seemed to forget that their was a hurricane. She placed a kiss on both her parents heads as they had fallen asleep in the sunroom, a few empty beer cans scattered around them.
Layne stood under the hot shower water until it was cold, but she couldn't cry. She just stared ahead, until she scrubbed her skin so hard it was pink. When that pain didn't do the job anymore, she reached up to her other elbow, which hadn't been picked raw, and drove her teeth into the flesh. It took everything in her not to scream at the pain, and she kept biting down until it was numb.
Unlatching her mouth from the crook of her elbow, she watched the blood accumulate and cried before viciously cleaning it under the cold, stale shower head. Her fingers were pruned after she got out of the shower, and she avoided looking at herself in the mirror. She crawled into bed with just her towel, not even bushing her hair or getting under the sheets. Luna meowed next to her.
authors note: lasjdaksjdlasd. omg. this chapter was a lot longer than I thought it was going to be??? and it honestly became one of my fave chapters for some reason? idk why. I was just inspired to write this book, and the words just started flowing out of me and I'm honestly really proud of it. sorry it took me so long to update this book, I lacked inspo and then ofc when I gained it again, it was during finals week, and then I lost it again until now.
love you guys so much! make sure to vote and leave comments so I can be inspired to write more <3 love you all!!!