𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 ✧ rafe cameron

𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹

✧ I SPEND NIGHTS STITCHING UP THE LOOSE THREADS OF MY SOUL AND IN THE MORNING I'M BULLETPROOF ✧

༺♥༻

Brianna settled against the doorway as she intermittently listened to her cousin's lecture.

"..and you sleep on the couch 'cause I ain't sharing my room with nobody.."

She blinked once, then twice. She could feel the haze of sleep starting to ebb at the corners of her mind. Barry's mouth opened and closed but she could hardly make out the words that left it.

"..you got that? No friends over, no nothin'. Keep your shit clean and.."

Brianna nodded slowly, hand reaching behind her to wrap around the cold metal of her suitcase handle. She began to pull it toward the couch, Barry's words growing more and more muffled with each step.

When she reached her bed-to-be, she finally caved to the pull of her heavy eyelids. Sleep had never felt more relieving.

༺♥༻

After the recent untimely death of her mother, Brianna Silva had been swept away to the other side of the country to live with her aunt in Kildare Island, North Carolina. Barry had insisted the area was known as the Outer Banks, or something. She didn't really care what it was called, she didn't want to be there.

The entire move had passed in a blur—faceless people stood in front of her and spoke in muted voices, drove her through nameless towns. She didn't speak to any of them, didn't even look at them. Her head was plagued with warm murmurs from her mother, followed by shrill screams that chilled her to the core.

Someone else packed her suitcase for her as she stared out the window of a stranger's car. Brianna kept staring, staring, staring until everything halted and she was booted out onto a rough patch of grass. Her new home reeked of weed and booze, as did her new roommate. She had never even seen the guy before. Said he was her cousin, Barry. Said his mom came home like once a month so he ran the place.

And so her life had done a full 180 in the span of 24 hours.

༺♥༻

She applied for a job in the morning. A waitress at some country club. God, there were a lot of rich people on this island.

Barry said she could make more money in joining the family business. Judging by the crowd of drug addicts that gathered around the trailer every night, she didn't want to.

Just as she began to settle into the numbing routine of work, avoid Barry, sleep, she heard an offhand comment from one of her tables about a party in the boneyard. Then, against all better judgement and under the pretense of making some actual friends around here, Brianna decided to go.

༺♥༻

She left as the sun was setting, chin high with the hopes of finally regaining some sense of normalcy. Her hair blew behind her as she peddled on one of Barry's old bikes, a stray strand whipping against the side of her face. 

Slowly, she watched the dense trees fade into soft sands.  She could make out a crowd of people gathered in the distance. The low pulse of a stereo boomed in her ears.

Brianna slowed to a stop. She took a breath, propped her bike up against an abandoned fence, and strode toward the noise.

As soon as her worn sandal touched the sand, there was a boy shoving a red solo cup toward her face. She flinched slightly, nose crinkling as she looked up at him warily.