Pretty When You Cry ୨୧ Rafe Cameron

thirty four

P.S. BEFORE YOU READ:

hi! omg i've been gone from this for so fucking long ugh. life's been busy, good though. i'm going to try and update this more frequently because on my little break this got lots of love <3

also, im writing this on my phone so i can use proper " instead of ', because my keyboard was broken on my chromebook lol. well, im gonna change it partway through this chapter because i already had some written.

'Isla, we've landed. We've just gotta do a bit of, well, figuring out how to get to Orinoco,' Kiara shook Isla awake.

Her hangover hit her like a bus. She hated herself for getting drunk. It's not like she was celebrating, or even like anything was specifically wrong other than her ongoing daddy issues. She just felt this craving for the feeling alcohol gave her. Yet she refused the idea that she could be an alcoholic.

She got off the plane with the others, they were finally in South America. The air was moist and the sun was just peeking through the clouds. Rafe gave her a few worried looks, but wouldn't confront her in front of all her friends and family, or his dad.

Isla begrudged that Ward was with them. He was the reason for everything. All the pain, all the suffering. All of it came back to a single source, Ward Cameron.

Once they got on a bus, that supposedly would lead them where they were supposed to go, Rafe sat down next to her.

'How are you doing?' he asked, a concerned look on his face as he scanned her for any hint of what was happening with her.

'Alright, you?' Isla replied, clearly dodging what he was doing.

'Isla,' he said, almost pleading with her to tell him what was happening. 'Why did you get drunk? And don't you tell me that was for fun because that didn't look fun.'

'I don't know, Rafe. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I needed it,' she sighed.

He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, then brushed her long sun-highlighted locks behind her ear.

'I know the feeling,' Rafe acknowledged her emotions, it was true, he'd been where she was. She was the main reason he wasn't anymore.

Isla could feel her dad's eyes burning through the back of her head. Of course, he wasn't a fan of Rafe. Why would he be? The boy's father almost killed him. He killed a beloved police officer.

The thing was, Big John didn't even like Isla— not as a person anyway. He was judging her too. His daughter was a borderline alcoholic. She was a borderline alcoholic dating a murderer.

But she was supposed to be his daughter, and that should come above all.

———

Hours later they found themselves hunting for the gold through the vast South American forest. It took all day to get even to the woods, so now it was pitch black and all the group could hear was the quiet ambience of animals.

'Are we even close to where you think this thing is?' Isla complained, groaning as they hiked up a hill.

'Stop nagging,' John B answered. Her brother's words made her want to throw him down that hill.

'Stop fighting,' Big John demanded, annoyed to hear his two only children's constant bickering at such an important moment to him.