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CHAPTER NINETEEN: A SISTER'S SORROW
Emma woke up from a deep sleep in the Glissons' house, where Rafe had stayed since he was kicked out. She was sleeping on the cozy bed and because of how well she slept, she'd almost forgotten everything that happened. But of course, like a famous poet, Robert Frost, once said, nothing gold can stay. Everything good comes to an end. And her comfortable sleep was over.
She woke up, looking for Rafe, but he wasn't next to her. She drowsily sat up and rubbed her eyes, and that's when she caught sight of him sitting on the balcony, smoking a bunch of things all at once. She sighed and got up from the bed, groggily walking over to where he was and taking a seat next to him.
Rafe was sitting in front of a table. Now, what did this table contain? First of all, a lot of alcohol. And of course, drugs. There were bags of cocaine, blunts, and weed sitting on the table and he was smoking, looking very high already. Emma wondered what led him to do this. Perchance it was because of what she told him the night prior? She was unsure.
"Morning." He spoke, looking at her. He looked completely dazed.
"Hey," Emma replied. She then chuckled. "Is this really what you do the first thing in the morning?"
Rafe just shrugged at her question, cutting a line and snorting it off the table.
"Are you okay?" She asked, her head tilting and her tone laced with concern.
"Yeah." Is all he said, completely focused on the objects in front of him.
Emma let out a breath, pinching her temple. "Where'd you get all this?"
"Barry. He's my dealer." He told her. "You wanna try?"
She looked at him with furrowed brows. Emma would be lying if she said she's never tried weed because, well, being best friends with JJ Maybank causes you to be very tempted to try. But this situation was different. She's never tried cocaine. Cocaine was different. She shook her head slowly. "I'm good."
His gaze softened as he looked at her, a hint of sadness and vulnerability in his eyes. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this. I just couldn't cope, you know, after finding out what my dad did."
Her heart ached for him. Why did she tell him? If she didn't tell him, this could've easily been avoided. She felt a pang of guilt gnaw at her chest. This was her fault. "You don't have to apologize. But you can talk to me, you know that? You don't have to do this."
