Pretty When You Cry ୨୧ Rafe Cameron

nineteen

The next morning Isla didn't even consider attending school as a possibility. Her education seemed so minuscule right now, so unimportant. Her brother was alive.

What she did deem relevant was finding a way to clear her brother's name. Yesterday they had discussed a couple of possibilities, one being finding the pilot of the plane, which was the plan they figured they'd carry out today.

Isla got up early to go pick up some breakfast before they headed off. She went to a small cafe just off Figure Eight and decided to buy a dozen donuts.

She got in line, then heard the bell on the door ring. She turned around to look at the customer now in line behind her, and it was Rafe Cameron.

She was transported to the tarmac, to Rafe holding a gun at an innocent woman, to her bleeding out on the hot pavement, to Rafe standing there like a statue even though he just killed a woman. Her fist tightened on themselves and her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes welling with tears.

She tried to ignore him. She had no choice. She couldn't just lose her mind in the lineup, but that seemed like it came more naturally than pretending it was ok, or pretending she didn't see him. She could feel his presence behind her, his eyes burning through the back of her head. She felt fear, like his gaze itself could kill her.

Rafe didn't know what to say. He was mostly pissed off that she was ignoring him like he was nothing, like he didn't exist. He knew he hurt her, but he didn't care. He didn't regret any of it— not a single thing he's done. Not saving his dad, not hanging out with her, none of it. He just hated that his actions did indeed have consequences.

'Been a while,' Rafe muttered.

Isla didn't even move, she was frozen. It was fight or flight at this point, and eventually her mind forced her to pick flight. She took off from the line and ran into the woman's washroom. Rafe didn't care, he followed her in.

When Rafe walked in other than Isla there was a woman washing her hands who looked quite angry at the appearance of a man in the space.

'Sorry Ma'am,' Rafe said, holding the door open for her to leave and then locking it.

'Are you gonna kill me too Rafe?' Isla asked bitterly.

'Fuck Isla, no,' he shook his head as if that wasn't an ordinary thing to ask when a killer locks you in a room with him— when your one of the witnesses to the crime that could send him to jail.

'Then leave me be,' Isla told him.

'Come on Isla. You can't just ignore me forever.'

'I plan on it.'

'Isla—'

'No! No! Just— just stop it. You are a murderer, and you disgust me,' Isla yelled, her voice shrill.

'I was just— saving my dad.'

'No Rafe! You were just killing somebody, she wouldn't have shot him. But every fucking day I wish she did.'

The room went quiet, the tension covered them like a suffocating blanket. For Isla, this felt like a much needed release. For Rafe, this felt like her just asking to be hurt.

'Listen here— you don't talk about my family like that. You don't tell anybody what happened. You keep your little blabbermouth shut, you understand?' Rafe commanded.

'And what if I don't? You gonna kill me too Cameron?' Isla said with her teeth clenched.

'I wouldn't test it,' Rafe replied.

'Good. Take me out of my misery,' Isla said, not believing a word he said. He wouldn't kill her, he probably wouldn't even lay a finger on her, and if he did she'd make sure everyone found out. She had the power here.