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Ophelia Martin had always been good at sneaking out.
It had all started at a young age when she slipped through her bedroom window, or even going as far as sneaking through the quite mansion, making her way out into the empty streets to see none other than Rafe Cameron.
As she grew older, Ophelia learned to free herself from Rafe's tight hold as he was fast asleep, making way to the guest bedroom in the Cameron household to make it look as if she had been sleeping there the entire night.
That, had helped her tremendously.
Without fail, Ophelia peeled herself off to the couch that had been covered in dirt and sweat, removing Rafe's arm carefully as soft snores filled the air, giving one last look behind her before slipping out the trailer door, not going as far as waking Barry in the process.
Rafe had looked so peaceful, so calm, like the Rafe she once knew. Despite the anger, and the raging drug addiction stemmed from his father's unfatherly figure, Ophelia had seen the real Rafe, a side that only came out around her.
His face, as soft as ever, his lips that generally were formed into a scowl were pressed in a thin line. The apples of his cheeks were flushed pink, his hair a mess upon his head as he tossed from side to side.
He was unapologetically the most beautiful thing Ophelia had ever laid her eyes on. Though, said beautiful things have dents and scratches too, and for Ophelia, though it hadn't changed a thing, knew now more than ever if she was ever going to heal the Cameron boy, she ought to hear out his best friend.
It seemed rather suspicious, Ophelia sneaking out at nearly four in the morning to meet up with once shared best friend, Topper Thornton, though the moment Ophelia's eyes read over the text message, her stomach grew ill and her mind ran blank.
Ophelia had found herself back at the docks, in the distance the small light shining from the top of the boat indicating Topper was already here, waiting for her. She inhaled sharply, her dark curls a mess upon her head as she tugged Rafe's flannel tighter around her body, inhaling the sweet scent of mint, sweat, and after shave.
"Ophelia." Topper gushed almost instantly, stepping off of the front of the boat and engulfing Ophelia into his arms, a tight hold around her shoulders. The pair hadn't seen eachother in weeks. What once was an everyday occasion was now rare, and Ophelia remembered in the back of her mind, Topper had turned on Rafe. He had chosen Sarah over Rafe.
Little did Topper know, Ophelia had done the exact opposite.
"God." Topper sighed. "Look at you." Topper had grown custom to Ophelia's bruised and battered skin, yet her eyes remained a cold stare towards the boy, arms now folded over her chest as she tapped her foot lightly against the docks.
