𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓 ― rafe cameron

δεκαεννέα ; 19

song of the chapter:
DARK RED ; steve lacy

The smirk faded from Barry's face, replaced by a look of surprise, maybe even a flicker of concern. "You're joking, right?"

Margarita shook her head, her hands trembling at her sides. "I'm serious. I need it, Barry."

He let out a low whistle, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. "You don't know what you're asking for, girl. This shit's no joke."

She knew. God, she knew. But she felt so helpless, so completely lost. Rafe was slipping further and further away, and she needed to understand what he was going through. She needed to feel it, to experience it, to know why he kept choosing this over her.

"Please, Barry," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Just this once. I need to know."

He looked at her for a long moment, something like pity in his eyes. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're out of your fucking mind, you know that?"

She nodded, the tears stinging her eyes as she fought to keep her composure. "I know."

He stared at her for a few more seconds, then stepped back, opening the door wider. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Margarita felt her heart lurch in her chest as she followed him inside, her hands clenching into fists to keep from shaking. She couldn't believe she was doing this. Couldn't believe she was walking into the very world she had fought so hard to keep Rafe out of.

Barry led her into the living room, the air thick with the stench of smoke and stale alcohol. He disappeared for a moment, and she stood there, her pulse racing as she looked around. The room was a mess, cluttered with empty bottles and discarded junk, a testament to the chaos and destruction that lived within these walls.

When Barry returned, he was holding a small plastic bag, filled with a powder that looked innocuous enough but that she knew could destroy lives. He held it out to her, his expression serious.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low. "You don't have to do this, Margarita. It's not gonna fix anything."

She swallowed hard, her eyes locked on the bag in his hand. This was a terrible idea. The worst she'd ever had. But she felt like she was drowning, and this was the only way she knew how to fight back.

"I have to," she whispered, reaching out and taking the bag from him. Her fingers brushed against his, and she felt a shiver of fear run down her spine. "I just...I need to understand."

Barry watched her, his eyes dark with something she couldn't quite place. "This isn't understanding, girl. This is just pain."

She nodded, tears spilling over her cheeks as she clutched the bag in her hand. "I know."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You got cash?"

Margarita nodded, fumbling in her pocket for her wallet. She handed him a couple of bills, her hand shaking as he took them. He tucked the money into his pocket, his gaze never leaving her face.

"Take it slow," he said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "You don't need much. Just a bump. You're not used to this shit."

She nodded again, her heart hammering in her chest as she looked down at the bag in her hand. She felt sick, her stomach churning with a mix of fear and guilt and shame. But she was here now. There was no turning back.

Barry handed her a small straw, and she took it with trembling fingers, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. He sighed, shaking his head.

"You don't have to do this," he said again, his voice almost pleading. "Just walk away, Margarita."