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─ ☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆ ─
"Dad?"
Ophelia Martin stood one on side of Ward Cameron's study, where Rafe sat across the other, every so often his eyes wandering up to meet with Ophelia's, who's always remained glued to the floor.
Ward Cameron had entered first, and for a moment, Ophelia felt unsure of her safety. It was then her father followed suit, shutting the door firmly behind him as he embraced his daughter with tears in her eyes.
"Ophelia." Richard Martin spoke lowly, Rafe swallowing in fear as he sunk into his seat. "Is she alive?" Rafe questioned lightly, and it was then Ophelia gained the courage to look across the room, her eyes falling towards Rafe, who looked genuine with each word spoke.
"No." Ward replied calmly, Ophelia slipping from her fathers grip and standing as far away from everyone as she possibly could. At this point in time, her emotions were through the roof, and she was unsure how to feel.
All she thought she knew was where she stood with Rafe, the boy who held a soft look written across his face, his eyes always finding way back to hers. "Okay." Rafe sighed, leaning back on the leather couch. "Okay."
Rafe couldn't seem to sit still, almost asking the Martin girl to be at his side with his actions, though she remained in place, almost wondering what Sarah had been doing. After everything they had been through, Ophelia loved Sarah with her entire heart, and she knew she was hurting. Ophelia was too.
"What did you tell the cops? Are they coming here?" Ward and Richard shared a look, one of defeat and guilt, Ward shaking his head softly. "No." He whispered. "John B did it." In the pit of Ophelia's stomach, she felt guilt, disgust, hatred. Though further down, she knew she could never put the blame on Rafe - even though he had been the one to shoot and kill an innocent women.
"Ophelia." Richard Martin spoke up, his stern voice capturing the attention of all three in the room. Ophelia, though, remained silent, her eyes barely looking towards her father before falling back to the floor. "Ophelia!" The man spoke louder, and Rafe shifted in his seat, ready to be at the girls side, whom simply nodded her head.
"What, dad?" Ophelia growled lowly, tears in the brim of her eyes. "Who shot Peterkin?" A lump formed in the back of the girls throat, her eyes falling to Rafe. "You think I would throw Rafe under the bus?"
A small smile couldn't help but tug at the corner of Rafe's lips, his heart fluttering in his chest and for a moments time, he truly felt like everything was going be alright. "Rafe, I need you to go to your room and take a shower, alright? If anyone asks you were here all day, doing maintenance."
