𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑|𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐱

Jeremiah could feel something cold shaken this back and a hand on his wrist that wasn't needed there in the slightest. Based on the callouses that seemed to dig into his scarred skin, he immediately knew it was Rafe. The Cameron boy had always enjoyed lifting weights, the sensation straining his hands that creating callouses that Jeremiah had grown to hate in the time that they had began dating.

A whimper escaped past Jeremiah's trembling lips as he tried to pull away from the not so warm embrace, his hair falling in front of his face and blocking his line of vision. But he could see Rafe. Always he could see Rafe, and every single thing about him. He was inescapable. It was as if chains were holding down his entire body and even as he kicked and screamed, he couldn't move. Weak. Jeremiah Maybank was weak and pathetic. Maybank men were meant to be able to fight, to be able to defend themselves from anybody who had even attempted to double cross them. And yet when a punch had delivered didn't to Jeremiah's nose, a sickening crunch echoing throughout the empty bedroom and crimson blood dripping down his nose and onto the corners of his lips, he didn't fight back. For what was the use? It only ended up in more agony.

Finally, Jeremiah had finally managed to wriggle out of Rafe's touch, making a run for it down the hallway that never seemed to end. Footsteps followed right after him, idk posting that Rafe was beginning to run as well. Jeremiah had managed to reach the roof of the building, doubling over as he gasped in any air that he possibly could. Surely Rafe wouldn't be able to find him here. No, he had escaped. Finally, he was free. Until he wasn't.

"It doesn't matter where I am," Rafe's voice was so eerie and sickening it made him want to hurl into the nearest toilet. Jeremiah continued to slowly back away from Rafe, causing the Cameron boy to come even closer to the point where Jeremiah's feet were dangling right off the edge of the roof. "You can't ever leave me. I'll be there forever."

"Rafe, please," As always, Jeremiah was begging. His trembling hands reached up to cup Rafe's cheeks, his water colored eyes filling with tears as he pushed a few strands of hairs away from his face. "Please, you don't have to do this. Please, Rafe."

Rafe stared at Jeremiah for a very long moment, almost as if he was contemplating on whether or not to let him live or die. At the end of the day, Jeremiah knew the answer. He had known from the moment the slap was delivered again this cheek over a year ago when they had first began going out with one another. And so when Rafe shoved him from the roof, he didn't cry, nor did he scream. He just fell, for that was what he deserved.

Jeremiah jolted upright in his bed, his heart pounding so violently in his chest that he was able to feel it in his throat. His skin, damp with cold sweat, clung to his loose t shirt, and his breath came in ragged, swallowed gasps. Jeremiah's eyes were wide and glassy as they darted around the bright room, as if a monster would come out from under his bed and eat him alive. For a moment, he couldn't tell if he was still dreaming or not. The echo's of his nightmare clung to his mind like a glove, suffocating him.

Jeremiah could feel the lingering terror grip tightly at his chest, Rafe's face and voice popping into his mind, and the endless abyss swirled into his head. The sunlight continued to blare in his face, indicating that it was now morning. He was shocked by the fact that he had managed to sleep through the entire night, seeing as normally a nightmare would plague him and he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep until the early sounds of the birds chirping outside was heard. More so, he was even more shocked by the fact he had gotten a full night of sleep in his own house of all places. A house. Never a home. Jeremiah glanced down to see his sheets tangled around his legs, however they felt foreign, like some unseen force trying to pull him back into a world full of horrors.

Jeremiah ran a hand over his sweat coated face before rolling out of bed, almost staggering over and tripping over his own two feet if it wasn't for his desk keeping him upright. His room had never been anything special. He could f afford luxury and declarations like Rafe could, so he always stuck to what he had to buy JJ whatever he wanted. A small twin sized bed that was becoming much too small for Jeremiah's body was pressed up against the wall, an even smaller desk with all of Jeremiah's textbooks and notes for school sitting right on top of it. His laptop laid under his bed, for the thought of Luke somehow managing to get his front fingers on it scared him like no other. On the walls there were posters of bands and artists that Jeremiah enjoyed along with pictures of mainly JJ. Only one picture was there of Rafe, and that was when they had first gotten together over a year ago. Rafe hated taking any sort of pictures with Jeremiah. Apparently they embarrassed him.