Kook King

Escape

RAFE'S POV

Later that night, the time on the dashboard glows dark, flicking from 1:14 to 1:15 as Rafe slowly pulls up into his driveway. His tires crunch to a stop. The overhead light turns on when he pushes open his door and slips out. The sound of cicadas is deafening. His body aches from a long day with Topper and Kelce. He didn't get to see much of Y/N today, which was the worst part, beside Rafe's friends hounding him once again for dating a pogue. Rafe was sick of hearing it. After a couple of beers in Topper's backyard, Rafe became fed up and shoved Topper, who staggered backwards. Rafe could still see the dark look that fell over his friend's face once he regained his balance. Then Topper came right back at Rafe with a swing of his fist, but he missed since he was more drunk than Rafe.

Kelce stepped in and broke the guys up. Rafe was still seething with anger. All he could see was Y/N's smile and eyes. Her gentle touch. The way she so easily took away Rafe's hurt. And yeah, she's a pogue, but how can Rafe's friends not see that there's so much more to her than what side of the island she comes from?

Rafe is pretty sure Topper's only pissed about Y/N being a pogue because John B "stole" Sarah from him. "Fuck you, man," Rafe spit.

Topper wiped blood from his mouth. "Fuck you," he shot back.

Now, Rafe quietly opens his front door and steps into the dark. He hangs his keys on the hook in the corridor and steps over a creak in the hardwood floor. The stairs are just ahead. He lifts his foot, gripping onto the railing, but freezes when he hears someone clear their throat.

Rafe whips his head around to see a dark figure sitting in the leathery armchair in the living room. "Where the hell have you been?" the voice asks, quietly.

Rafe straightens his shoulders. He could still feel the warmth on his cheek from Ward's slap earlier this morning. He fidgets in the doorway. "Uh, I was with Topper and Kelce," Rafe responds.

His father is quiet as he slowly lifts out of the chair, a half-drunk glass of Scotch in his hand. Somehow, Ward's silence is sometimes even worse than his yelling. Whenever Ward asks Rafe something like, "Where were you?" or, "What do you think you're doing?" and Rafe tells him, it's always a waiting and guessing game. Ward is never predictable. Rafe never knows if his father will approve of his answer or become furious over it.

Ward steps forward into the light from the moon that spills in through the window across the floor. Rafe could see the little wrinkles in the corners of his father's eyes as he lifts his chin. "And did something happen?"

Rafe blinks, confused. "W-what?"

"Was there some sort of accident? Did something happen that made you arrive home at one in the morning?" Ward's voice raises and moves even closer to Rafe.

"Uh... n-no." Rafe hangs his head. "No, there wasn't."

Ward glances at the time and sighs. "You know you're supposed to be home by midnight."

"Yes, sir."

"Then why weren't you home an hour ago?"

"I... I don't know," Rafe says.

Ward cups his ear, leaning forward. "I'm sorry, what's that?"

Rafe speaks up a little louder. "I don't know, sir."

As quickly as Rafe notices the flash of fury on his father's face, Ward's fist comes swinging at Rafe's jaw. It makes a loud cracking sound, and Rafe staggers backwards until he collapses on the floor. There's a ringing sound in his ear. He tries to focus on the front door knob across the foyer, but Ward hovers over him with that same angry look on his face. He grabs a chunk of Rafe's shirt and yanks him back up to his feet. Rafe keeps his head ducked, his eyes pooling with tears from the white-hot pain in his jaw.

"You live under my roof, you follow my rules!" he shouts, pointing a finger in Rafe's face. He could smell the stench of Scotch on his father's breath. "When I say you be home by a certain time, you be home at that time. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Rafe mumbles.

Ward's hand slaps Rafe across the cheek. A bruning sensation courses through the left side of his face. Rafe clasps a hand over his cheek, but then Ward backs Rafe up into the closet door. "Louder," he hisses.

"Yes," Rafe nearly shouts.

Ward aggressively lifts Rafe's chin up, now inches from his son's face. Rafe could feel his heart thrashing in his chest. "You disobey me again, Rafe, I swear to God, you will be out on the street."

When Ward lets go, Rafe collapses against the door behind him. He waits for his father to vanish up the stairs before he completely sinks to the floor and breaks into tears. His temple throbs from where Ward hit him. He knows already a large, purple bruise will be visible on his face by tomorrow morning, but right now, his chest feels like it's breaking as wracking sobs start bubbling up out of him. He sits there in the dark, by the bottom of the stairs, cradled into a ball like he used to do when he was a kid.

Nearly twenty minutes later, Rafe wipes the salty, hot tears from his face and pushes himself up. An idea-- the best idea he's ever had-- pops into his mind, and he rushes up the steps to his bedroom. He snatches his duffle bag from the back of his closet then quickly starts grabbing at T-shirts, pants, and anything else he would need to get away, at least for a bit.

He texts Y/N, knowing she may not hear it because she's probably asleep. Even with everything that just happened, Rafe's heart warms knowing Y/N is safe. He may not be able to protect himself from his father, but he can take care of her.

He texts her to tell her he's on his way and to pack a bag.

Downstairs, Rafe sneaks through the old play room he, Sarah, and Wheezie used to keep all their toys as kids and slips into the kitchen. He'll have to go through the side door so no one hears. But Rafe stops when he sees his little sister standing by the fridge. She notices him at the same time and smirks. "Where are you going?" she asks, folding her arms.

Rafe glances at the bag in his left hand. "Out," he says, and rushes past his sister.

Wheezie whirls around. "For how long?"

Rafe shakes his head. "I don't know," he snaps.

"Do Dad and Rose know?"

"No. And don't tell them. Alright?" Even though Wheezie is the easier one to deal with of Rafe's two sisters, she can still be a pain in the ass with all of her questions. And it's always when Rafe is too busy.

His sister looks confused. "And what's in it for me?"

Rafe lets out an exasperated sigh. "Nothing, Wheezie. Just... do this for me."

She makes a face. "Okay, but you know Dad is gonna be pissed, and I'm not gonna lie to him."

Rafe struggles with his bag's zipper that won't close all the way. "Fine, whatever," he hisses. He just wants Wheezie out of his hair.

Minutes later, Rafe grabs his car keys and successfully pulls out of his driveway. Y/N calls when Rafe is halfway to her house. Her voice is groggy. "Rafe," she croaks. "What are you talking about? Pack a bag for what?"

Rafe explains it to her, whipping through the streets of the island until he enters The Cut. The area becomes more and more familiar until he crawls to a stop at the curb in front of Y/N's house. A couple of minutes later, the front door light flicks on and the door swings open. Rafe sits up, watching as Y/N's dark figure runs across the grass towards him. He smiles when she dumps her bag on his car floor and slams the passenger door shut.

Rafe kisses her hello then shifts the car into drive, and they pull away from Y/N's curb. Rafe slides his hand onto her bare thigh and smiles to himself in the dark as they cruise under street light after street light. This is how it should be, Rafe believes.

"Where are we going?" Y/N asks in a sweet voice.

Rafe glances through the rearview mirror. Behind them, the street is completely dark and empty, and suddenly, Rafe feels like he and Y/N are the only people on the island. But they need to get far away from here. "Miami," Rafe says.