THE PICTURE OF YOU -rafe cameron-

008; barry's house

Fuck everything, exactly everything. That was the exact thought running through Rafe's spinning head as he stormed out of the large Tannyhill mansion, the keys to his red and blue dirtbike in his right hand. The one he had bought with the generator money from his father. Rafe was sick and tired of everything, needing a release from this hell of a day. Anger was making his head not only spin but feel like it was about to explode, leaving a strong desire for delirium within his veins and the taste of blood upon his tongue. His chest felt as if it had a ticking time bomb stuffed into it, which could implode at any given moment. He got like this, sometimes. More often than he would like to admit. People had a way of pushing him to his very edge of rage quite easily, especially his father and his stuck up younger sister Sarah. Rafe didn't have the best patience in the world, it was one of the flaws which he had been told to work on by his father throughout his whole life.

Rafe knew that he probably shouldn't have bought the dirtbike with his father's money. It wasn't for him, it was supposed to go to a new generator to provide their home with more electricity. He hadn't been thinking, that sometimes happens too. A complete loss of mind. He might've made a mistake, yes, but he was never going to let anyone know that. Rafe was headstrong. Still, he hadn't appreciated being yelled at by his father, nor had he liked the way his younger sister had crossed her arms over her chest with a snarky smile upon her lips as she had spoken to him. Kicking him even further down into the dumps. Sarah really seemed to enjoy her I told you so moment, making Rafe's blood boil.

Rafe shoved his helmet on his head angrily before he started up the bike, driving off. He drove fast, leaving the familiarity of figure eight behind him, dirt roads and tall grass surrounding him as he soon reached the cut. He drove past a few houses with paint that was chipping off the outer walls and poorly patched roofs. Most of the houses and cabins on the south side looked like they were about to fall apart by the time the next storm hit. They had been badly hit by hurricane Agatha, to say the least.

He continued to drive, faster than he should've, and the cabins were now narrowing out as the patches of tall trees grew closer and closer. He took a left turn, going down a dirt road. The rural part of the cut held his dirty secret, cocaine. Plastic bags and credit cards on hard surfaces. Dirty, dirty, dirty. Such a dirty secret. However, it had become more of a dirty habit by now.

Rafe soon reached the run down trailer home belonging to Barry, the slightly older boy who was known across the island as everyone's drug dealer. Barry had mostly anything and his place was often filled with people getting high in the middle of the day on only god knows what. Supply and demand, Barry was your guy, always. Loud music roared from the one story trailer as Rafe parked his bike, pulling the keys out of the ignition harshly. He pulled his helmet off, glancing around with a displeased look upon his face as he placed it down on top of the bike. He dragged his feet across the yard, which was more like a junkyard by this point, making his way up the creaking steps leading to the front porch. The place reeked of weed, making Rafe rub his nose as he walked through the open front door, almost bumping into someone, shifting out of the way.

"Pop that collar bro"

Rafe shook it off with a flinch, continuing to walk into the house. "Hey, Barry" Rafe called out as he turned a corner, seeing the rough looking boy with the dark hair and dark eyes sitting on a couch surrounded by other pouge looking boys. "Hey, country club" Barry cheered, pushing himself up onto his unsteady feet, sloppily making his way over to Rafe. "What's up bro?" Rafe hummed calmly, his hands in his pockets, glancing over at Berry. He looked a little out of it, his dark eyes dull and slightly dazed, "what's good with you man?"

"Not much man" Rafe replied, glancing around as he did a handshake with Barry, "I should've worn a wifebeater". His words made Barry chuckle, swaying on his feet, "you couldn't beat nobody Rafe" he huffed, walking past him and into another room "come on". Rafe pushed his lips together, the uncalled for words stinging his ego bitterly. He soon followed Barry, looking around the trailer home. He muttered a simple "what's up?" as they walked past another group of people sitting around in the next room, looking just as gone as everyone else around here. A blonde girl walked by, her eyes darting up at Barry. "What's up?" she slurred, dragging her hands through her tangled hair. "What's going on girl?" Barry hummed back, following her with his gaze as she walked past, obviously admiring her a little. Rafe had never seen her before, but she looked like a real junkie, probably a few years older than him. Perhaps that was Barry's type? Girls who were seemingly easy to manipulate, buried in a drug enhanced haze.