Insane // Rafe Cameron

SIX

I feel a wave of nausea rising within me, not just from the sight before me but from the sheer gravity of the whole situation.

Once more, it's like my fleeting opportunity to break free has slipped through my grasp,

-akin to grains of sand cascading through desperate fingers, a futile attempt to retain what slips away.

In the midst of this despair, the sharp edge of Rafe's voice slices through the air, devoid of any lingering warmth or empathy,

a chilling reminder of the harsh reality we find ourselves in.

"There's no one to blame but yourself. Testing your luck was a mistake," his words, laced with frost, leaving a trail of icy detachment in their wake.

As I grapple to decipher the chilling essence of his words, a sense of speechlessness washes over me.

The weight of his finality resonates deeply within me, rendering me mute in the face of his cold demeanor.

It slowly dawns on me that he may not be seeking any response from me at all, a realization that creeps in with unsettling clarity.

It's increasingly clear that this guy has totally lost it, his grip on reality slipping into the shadows.

Just imagining what might've gone down if I hadn't gone along with his messed-up story gives me shivers down my spine.

Would he truly have ventured that far, boldly crossing boundaries to drive the blade through the layers, watching the blood slowly spill?

Picture the green grass painted with red, the crimson drops blossoming.

Then observe me being silenced by my own blood, the suffocating embrace tightening its grip, my eyes widening in fear as I realize each breath slipping away.

Next, envision me descending into unconsciousness within his grasp, the party engulfed in a hushed shock, panic and worry etched on every face.

What sinister turn would his actions take in that tumultuous moment?

Would he simply weave more intricate tales, assuming a facade of care, leading me away with false solace?

The very idea ignites a storm of anger in me, a fire burning bright at the injustice of him possibly getting away scot-free.

The thought of him repeating such horrors without facing any consequences raises a whirlwind of questions in my mind.

If he's done it once, what's stopping him from diving into darkness again? What truly holds him back?

My frustration is abruptly interrupted when Rafe grabs my wrist, forcefully pulling me back towards the party.

I have a strong urge to yank his hand away and scream at him, but would that really help?

The guy has a knife, and he's proven time over time again that he's not afraid to use force, going way further than any sane person would.

I frustrate allow him to drag me until we're close enough for curious eyes to potentially notice.

His arm quickly moves from my wrist to slip behind my back, resting on my hips and pulling me in.

It's the perfect facade, the perfect relationship. But it's not a coincidence that he's holding me in the exact same spot where he had the knife earlier, is it?

Maybe it's intentional, to remind me of who has control, or just a frustrating twist of fate.

I push the thought aside. It's already bad enough that my only glimmer of hope for escape has walked away in dislike, if not hate.