Behind the psycho || Rafe Cameron x Reader || OBX fanfic

three

The room was a guest room, which meant no one cared to come in them. I was as good as dead. I checked my pocket for my phone, but it wasn't there. Rafe had taken it -- when I didn't know. 

I always knew there was something about him. Something that drew me to him, but he was a murderer -- he had blood on his hands. And soon, maybe even mine. I had walked right into a killer's hands not even thinking about what he could do.

There was a window in my room, but it was a safety window. It barely opened. Rafe's room was on the third floor and so was this one. He knew what he was doing when he put me in here. He was the only one who knew I was in here. 

Wait, no. Sarah knew I was here, along with her friends. I was going to be fine. Thank God.

My sigh of relief filled me when I admired the room. Like every room in their house, the rooms were clean and organised...except Rafe's room.

This room had a bathroom, a useless window, and a fresh white bed. It had a closet too, but it was empty. I wonder if Rafe will give me clothes. I wonder if he'll even bring me food or water. What if he leaves me to starve? No one would know, except maybe Sarah and her friends, but Dad wouldn't. If anything, he would be happy.

I lay in the bed, staring at the blank ceiling, growing into my thoughts and slowly sinking into the bed. I ran away to the Outer Banks to be free, in not even a day, I'm locked into a room by a killer. I hoped the bed would just devour me so I could be free already.

I thought about my life before and my life now. Almost nothing has changed. I heard rain patter against the window. I loved the rain, but I wasn't sure anymore.

The door clicked open and Rafe walked inside. He had changed. He wore shorts and a long-sleeved shirt that he had rolled up. In his hand was an ice cream cone. He walked slowly to me, his eyes not meeting mine. He sniffled and sat on the bed, which dipped under him. He offered me the ice cream cone. "You like vanilla right?" he said, keeping his gaze away from mine. How can he just act like he didn't just lock me in a guest room?

"Rafe," I said and it triggered his eyes to look at me. They were sky-blue and shining. "How long are you going to keep me here?" 

He put his thumb on my lips, "Shhh." His warm fingers held my face gently, not the way he did a few hours ago. But they were also the hands that held a gun and shot the Sheriff. He was supposed to be on the wanted posters, not John B.

"Rafe," I said against his finger. I pulled his hand away, thankful that he didn't resist. His ocean eyes stared at where his thumb used to be. "You know you have to turn yourself in. John B's getting blamed for something he didn't do--"

"No, y/n," Rafe said and his hand clenched the bedsheets, scrunching up in his palm. "He took my sister. He brainwashed her."

"Rafe," he stared at my lips saying his name, "he might be killed because of you. The gold--"

He put his whole hand on my mouth, silencing me. I gasped, but it was silent. His hand smelled like cocaine. I now noticed how his eyes were dilated and he was sweating. "Now, you see, your father wants some of the gold, so you can't say anything," he smiled evilly. Before I could bite him, he pulled his hand away and gave me the ice cream, "Take it." 

I swallowed down bile and took the cone from him. It was very unprofessionally scooped like he had done it himself. He hadn't even put sprinkles, which I liked. I wonder if he knew that or it was a coincidence. 

He watched me as I licked the ice cream. I turned away from him. Who watched people eating ice cream? I shivered from his intimidating gaze. "Are you still scared of me?" Rafe asked quietly. He kept some distance which I appreciated, but why did he care if I was scared of him?