complicated ☆ rafe cameron

chapter one

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘬

In the shadow of the Cut, where the salty air mingled with whispered secrets, the world of the Kooks and Pogues unfolded like a timeless feud etched in the sands of Figure Eight.

The Kooks, draped in designer hues, glided on sleek yachts, their laughter ringing like distant chimes effortlessly beautiful yet hollow.

Meanwhile, the Pogues, sun kissed and rugged, navigated the waves on battered boards, embodying the grit of a life lived on the fringes.

Two sides. Two lives. Two perspectives.

Amber Hammond lived the classic Pogue life, marked by carefree days spent along shores of the Outer Banks. She embraced the simplicity of beach bonfires and late night talks with drunken strangers at the Chateau.

Her life was a tapestry woven with both joy and loss. She lived in a small, weathered beach house, a sanctuary filled with memories of her mother, who had tragically taken her own life and her father, who had succumbed to the bottle long before.

She never really felt alone though.

Infact, she was never really alone.

Barry was a constant presence at her house, usually appearing unannounced. Amber felt a complicated debt to him, after her mother's death, he was the only one who seemed to care enough to show up, which she would be forever grateful for.

Despite him not knowing how to comfort Amber, he sure did all he could. Overtime he became more like a brother than a friend.

He introduced her to the darker pleasures of the Outer Banks, late night parties, quick highs, and the numbing comfort of a bottle in hand.

At first, it felt like freedom, a temporary escape from the crushing weight of her grief. But as the nights blurred into mornings, she found herself spiraling into a haze of drinking and drugs, a dependence that left her struggling to differentiate between solace and self destruction.

Each time she makes a delivery for Barry, a knot of guilt twists in her stomach, but she pushes those feelings aside, reminding herself that sometimes you have to do what you must to survive.

The weight of her choices lingered in the back of her mind, yet the urgency of paying rent and staying afloat overshadows her doubts. It's a precarious balance, navigating the fine line between necessity and conscience, but for now, she feels trapped in a cycle where desperation often trumps morality.

Life wasn't all bad though, sure it wasn't perfect but that is kinda a given being a pouge and all.

Today was no diffrent from the rest, the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the beach house as the sound of waves lapping at the shore filled the air. Inside, Barry sprawled on the worn couch, a half empty beer can resting beside him, while Amber tinkered with a surfboard in the corner, her brow furrowed in concentration.

'Ambs?' He propped himself up, the sunlight catching the lines on his face, a map of hard living and careless nights. 'Listen i need ya to make a drop off for me at Figure Eight, Near the wreck. Would do it myself but got places to be.'

She sighed, feeling the familiar knot in her stomach tighten. 'You know I hate going there alone,' she replied, trying to keep her tone steady. The wreck was notorious, not just for its food, but for the crowd it attracted.

'Just a quick run man,' he urged, his voice persuasive yet casual. 'Cmon ya owe you one.' He flashed a lopsided grin, but she could see the edges of desperation creeping into his expression.