Pretty When You Cry ୨୧ Rafe Cameron

thirty five

Pope dodged the bullets, bringing Singh down to the ground with him. JJ didn't. But the bullet didn't hit him. The bullet hit Ward.

Isla watched Rafe's expression go from angry to fearful when his father fell backwards off that ledge. Not ledge, cliff. He hit the hard ground with a thump. It didn't take seeing his dead body down there to know he was dead. He was.

One second his dad was there. Right there. Standing, living, breathing. And then he wasn't. Everyone was stunned to silence. You could hear the cicadas chirping.

Everyone was looking at JJ, but not Isla. Isla looked as Rafe's baby blue irises. The light gone from them. The way his lip quivered and his fists clenched. A million thoughts running through his mind.

Death would always be complicated, but it is especially complicated when it's a person you love yet has caused you as much pain as Ward caused his son. Sarah was probably gravelling with the same thing, only she was actually being to wail. In the moment of distraction, Kiara and Pope started to run, JJ did too, by instinct. John B shoved Sarah along, whispering that they had to go into her ear. This could be it, they could make a run for it. There was enough gold in those bags to send each of them through college. It was better than nothing. Big John ran too, more so limped though.

Isla watched Rafe stand still as bullets flew in the direction of their friends. He was shaking. "Rafe, we- we have to go while they're distracted," she panicked. Rafe snapped out of it and started running with her. Her words were enough.

Bullets grazed them but none hit. They were young and they were fast. Rafe was running like running from that place would help him outrun his grief.

———

They made it back to the boat and headed off. Sarah was still bawling into John B while he stared into the abyss.

John B wanted Ward dead. He was probably happy. Isla knew that much, and so did JJ. And Sarah. And that fact broke Sarah.

Rafe was holding up better, at least by the looks of it. He was holding it all inside. He was crying, but it was soft sobs and little tears. He didn't even know why he was crying. He resented his father for so many reasons. But now that he was gone, he had another to resent him.

Isla was so caught up in Rafe that she forgot her own father was dying right in front of her eyes. She was probably the only one who realized that this was happening, but she knew in her gut that it was. The man was lid across the bottom of the boat, his stomach bleeding out as he dry heaved.

"John B," he sounded out. Isla watched her brother look down at their father, and watched him realize what was happening.

"Dad? Oh my god, Dad are you ok?!!" John B crouched down, touching his father's face. Utter terror in his face.

Of course even in death their father would choose John B. This didn't shock Isla, but it stung. She looked at him, wondering what she ever did to make him hate her so much.

"Isla," Big John added, wanting her to come closer too. Isla couldn't move, she just stared at him, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"Isla, honey—"

"I can't."

"Isla, I know I haven't been the father you deserve. I know I've always treated you unfairly. You remind me too much of your mother and it just— it fucking hurts, honey. You don't wanna end up like her. You don't wanna be the person she was when she passed."

This didn't make sense. Not to Isla, not to John B. It also didn't persuade her to come see him off as he goes to the light. She couldn't move. He didn't even say sorry.

Big John started saying things lowly to John B. He nodded and cried. Isla looked away. Rafe looked at her. Sarah looked at Rafe.

And then Isla's father took his last breath. And just like they lived, they died arguing.

John B stared at Isla in complete disgust. How could she do that? How did she just basically tell their father to fuck off while he bled out?

"What the hell, Isla?!!!" he yelled, his voice cracking. "Our dad is dead and you didn't even say goodbye! Well done, sister! Well fucking done!!"

Isla looked at him, tears streaking her face. She knew she just did something she can't take back. Maybe she'd regret it for the rest of her life. Maybe she'd go to hell. Maybe her relationship with her brother would never be the same. But she just couldn't move.

"John B, don't yell at her, she just lost her dad too—" Kiara started, being cut off by John B.

"Don't! This is the man that raised us, and she just—" This time Isla cut him off.

"He didn't raise us! He raised you, John B! I raised my self for fucks sake! All he did was make me wish I hadn't been born!"

"Don't you fucking say that, Isla. He just died! Can't you understand that??!!"

"I know! Okay??!" Isla croaked.

"That's just pathetic," John B sat back down, head in his hands, avoiding looking at the corpse in the boat.

Isla looked at her father lifeless lying there. She felt sick. Maybe she'd throw up again. Maybe she'd grab that blade from Pope and slit her throat. It seemed better than dealing with her life right now.

Then Rafe just put his hand on her leg, and she felt herself come back to Earth. He didn't say anything. They both had just went through such similar things. It was comradery if nothing else.

"We should get him out of the boat," JJ suggested, wiping a little tear from under his eye. Rafe got up too. The two boys gently lifted Isla's father overboard.

It was weird to see them come together. They were coming together for one reason only, Isla. She knew that.

It was hard to watch her father disappear into the river. It was hard to grasp the fact she'd never see him again, for the second time in her life. It was just hard.

"It'll be okay, Isla," Rafe said, and he meant it. And she knew it. And it would indeed be okay.