ROCK BOTTOM ~ Rafe Cameron // OC // JJ Maybank

sixty four.

tw: violence

Rafe took a deep breath. He shut his eyes for a moment, exhaling loudly. He stood outside his house. He was sweating, the outside heat burning him. He shut off his motorcycle, placing it up on its kickstand.

He just got back from Barry's. His pockets were full.

Making his way inside, he felt a new form of nerves he never had before. His hands trembled as he headed up the stairs. They didn't shake from withdrawals, but from anxiousness.

He was so, so, so nervous for what was about to happen.

Rafe felt fucking insane. He had never heard his consciousness screaming at him as loud as it did in that moment. He was about to make a decision he could never erase. Bexley would never forget about it, he would never forget about it.

But what was the alternative?

If Rafe let things be, if he just let Bexley stay here like his dad wanted her to, John B or JJ would sneak back into this house and get her on their side.

He knew for sure that the pogues would keep trying to come back, because he knew John B wouldn't go anywhere without making sure his sister was okay. Despite what he convinced Bexley, Rafe knew how loyal John B was to her already. That loyalty wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

So he had no choice. Rafe had to do this, he had to get her out of here. It was the best thing for both of them.

Rafe felt like there was a fire burning a hole in his pocket, but he still went into the room. Bexley was crying again, of course. Rafe wasn't that effected by her crying now. He knew it was about to end.

He swallowed his nerves. "...I'm back, Bexley."

She tried to quiet herself, and then sat up. Her eyes were red, her face guilty. She hadn't done anything yet, she hadn't taken anything yet, but she still looked so guilty.

"You..." She paused. More guilt. "You got it?"

Bexley clasped and unclasped her hands on the blanket beneath her, repeatedly. She was sweaty, despite doing absolutely nothing.

Rafe shuffled in slowly. "I did." He put his hand in his pocket, gripping the small, tightly wound bag. He glanced at the bedside table, pushing back the stuff on it, clearing space. "Here, um...let me..." He was nervous, jumpy.

Bexley flinched as he pulled the bag of cocaine out of his pocket. The sight of it unnerved her. He poured the white powder on the night stand, and she was reminded of how many times she'd seen this from him before. From Madelyn too. Every time she saw that powder come out, she'd pray it'd disappear before use. But now...now she was going to use it.

She felt sick.

How was it possible that this stuff helped Rafe feel so much better all the time, but it made her feel so scared?

Rafe cleared his throat, as he set up lines for her. "I'll make you two."

Two. Should she start with two? Or with one? She was reminded of when she tried using after Madelyn's death. It hurt.

"Is that too much?" she asked, in a low whisper.

He shook his head. "No."

Rafe rolled up a small paper for her. He took her hand, placing the paper into it. "Here." He pulled his hand away so she was holding it on her own. "Just inhale. It's easy."

Easy? Rafe thought this was going to be easy for her?

Bexley felt like she already took it the way her heart was beating.