“Where were you?” he’d demanded, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“At the church, sir.” Your voice had been shaky as you’d tried to even out your breathing.

Your father had just stared for a second, clearly having seen through your weak lie. You’d known that, but it was as though he’d wanted to make you squirm. To make you regret ever lying to him. To accept the inevitable fallout, which was the result of the consequences of your actions.

“So late?” he’d asked, a hint of mockery in his tone. 

Your mother had gotten out of bed now, pale in her nightgown as she stood behind your father. The look in her eyes had been pitiful. Her disappointment was always worse than your father’s rage. “Tell us the truth, sweetheart. It’ll be best.” Her words were grim for a place where truth only led to pain. 

You’d almost thought about it for a second. Telling them everything. You’d always told them everything. Before Rafe. Before you’d seen him for the first time. Before thoughts of him had invaded your mind. Before he’d taken you on his bike. Before you’d went into the back of that gas station with him. Before…

What were you even supposed to tell your parents? That you had been seeing the most wanted criminal in town? That you couldn’t stop thinking about him? That you’d been dreaming about marrying him, having kids-

“Tell me the truth. Now.” Your father’s command snapped you out of your thoughts. You’d looked back up at him, swallowing hard. 

You couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come out. Lying again wasn’t an option, but for reasons unknown, the truth refused to fall from your lips. You’d chosen silence.

“Very well.” Your father hadn’t asked again. He hadn’t forcibly demanded answers from you. It was as if he knew they’d come eventually. “Clear out the storage.” He’d ordered your mother without turning.

Here you were now. 

You’d been in the storage room before to retrieve items your mother asked for. Go through boxes sometimes. But never for this reason. Your father's punishments were often cruel, mostly physical. You’d been subjected to canings, beatings, and all kinds of violence, yet in this moment nothing could compare to this mental agony. 

Your father was calculated, sure however, there was no way he could know the state to which your mind had been plagued with thoughts. Thoughts of him. Thoughts of… You couldn’t think of his name. No. Don’t think of it. You’d gone so long. You can’t. It’ll all come back. The memories. The feelings. Everything.

Every time it came, it pulled you under like a wave. It was almost like you’d go numb. Lose all feeling. Lose all coherent thoughts. Except him. Rafe. The way his calloused fingers felt when he brushed back a strand of your hair. The way his breath was warm against your skin when he called you “sweetheart”. The way his lips would feel when they finally pressed against yours-

You gasped, coming to from your trance at the sound of your mother slipping in your dinner from the slot in the door, one of your two daily meals for the next week in here as per your father’s strict words.

“You will spend the week here,” he’d muttered, gesturing to the storage room, now void of the boxes cleared out by your mother. The wooden door that was previously blocked had now been slightly ajar, revealing a little toilet and sink. The only thing that had remained in the room, on the black and white tiles, was piles of scriptures, stacked neatly in the corner. “Your time is to be occupied reading the words of God. You will return to his side, sanctified.”

Your had mother sighed, her nimble fingers wrapping around the necklace she always wore. A silver chain with a plain cross. “May the Lord be with us…” she’d whispered as though you’d traversed to the dark side. You hadn’t. It wasn’t like that, right? No… You were still good. You were the preacher’s daughter. 

You’d wanted to scream it. To beg your father. To sob at your mother’s knees. But you couldn’t give them what they wanted. The truth. So you’d walked in, crossing the threshold of the door with a quiet step. 

“Do you understand, child?” 

“Yes, sir…”

Those were the last words you’d heard from your father, three days ago, before he slammed the door shut. Your stomach had twisted when you heard the click of the lock. Just like it twisted now, seeing the cold meal placed in front of you. Warmth didn’t belong in penance. And penance was eating you alive.

You looked disheveled at best. Your hair matted from sleeping, curled up on the freezing tiles, your thin church dress useless against the bite of the cold. Your lips cracked from the bitter taste of the tasteless bread you’d shoved down for every excuse of a meal, given with a simple glass of water. Your mind fighting to claw its way out of these four walls. To him. Always to him. You were his. Why wasn’t he coming for you? 

You couldn’t do it anymore. It was becoming unbearable. After you’d been alone for the first few minutes, you’d convinced yourself you could get through this. How hard could it be to stay in a room for seven days? Besides, you had an endless supply of readings to get through. Then the lights flicked off outside, and your parents went to sleep. You were truly alone.

The sobs tore their way out of you, the sounds that came with them ugly. You’d cried until you couldn’t breathe, left gasping for air that only fueled the pain. If your parents heard, they’d think it was because of this. You cried for everything but that. You cried for how you got here. For how you’d let your wandering mind taint everything you’d built for years. For the version of yourself forever lost. The girl who was free from these sinful thoughts of him.

You stared at the scriptures that layed in front of you now, pages crinkled from the tightness of your desperate grip. You’d tried your best to believe that you could be cleansed. That your mind could once again be pure. Spent the first morning reading every word, trying to clear your mind and absorb every scrap of meaning. 

Your finger trembled slightly now as you traced the line with complete focus. “Purge me, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.”

“I shall be clean…” Your voice was shaky as you repeated the words as if that would engrave them into you. The first line was always the easiest. Keep going. You have to. Don’t think about him.

“Bring the broken vessel to the altar, for the righteous shall pray.” 

“The righteous shall pray,” you whispered out, throat dry. 

Pray. You couldn’t help but concentrate on the word. The letters on the page. How they were printed out so evenly, the lines of black ink a stark contrast to the yellowed state of the paper. 

Prey.

No. That wasn’t right. 

You were to pray… but… You were the prey. 

No, no, no- It was here again- Your knuckles went white as you grasped the page, trying to claw onto anything tangible as your mind reeled again. Just like it always did. Like it wanted to scour into the darkest depths rather than stay within the bounds of the pages in front of it. 

You were his prey. Rafe’s prey. You’d fallen for a facade that was a fantasy. And now he was going to hunt you down. And he’d enjoy it. He wasn’t a good guy.

But would that be so bad? He’d save you. Save you from this room. Save you from your parents. Save you from these words. You’d move from town to town, pressed up against him on the back of his bike. You’d be pretty and distract the guards while he broke into the vaults. And maybe he’d buy you a ring and a white dress with that stolen money. Forge some fake papers. It would be you and him. 

You… Him… Forever…

And he’d kiss you. And touch you. And-

You sucked in a breath of air as you came to your senses, on your knees now, leaning back against the chipping wall. This had to stop. It was getting worse. The page that had been in front of you had been crumpled, your nails still digging in. You ripped it out with a grunt, tossing it into the corner where a pile of rolled-up paper balls laid. 

“Please, R-rafe…” you begged, half sobbing out of sheer desperation now, as if he were your God. As if he’d hear it somehow and stop tormenting your mind. As if he had any control over this. 

As if you weren’t consuming his thoughts too.

Rafe couldn’t stop himself from pacing from one end of his bedroom to the other. His breathing was ragged. His desk a larger mess than his mind, scattered with blueprints of the bank’s layout that he’d managed to obtain from another acquaintance. After he dropped you off that day. 

Rafe had tried his best to busy himself these past three days. Mapping out plans of how to successfully carry out this heist. Going to every single bar in town, drinking till he could barely stand anymore. Fucking any girl there to distract his mind. And yet it wasn’t working.

What the fuck had you done to him? There was something wrong with him. No matter what he did, you kept invading his mind. “Stop it,” he muttered to himself. “Think, think, think-”

Rafe cut himself off with another sharp inhale, closing his eyes for a second, trying to narrow his focus to the plan. This was it. The biggest bank in town. He could not screw this up. It was simple. He’d pulled off more complicated heists, right? Why was he second-guessing himself? No. Pull yourself together. 

Wait until the guard switch at 11.55pm. Get through the back entrance. Open the vault. Grab the money. And leave town. Rafe went through the steps over and over in his mind as if that would help. Help get the image of you out. How tempting you looked in that little church dress. How tightly you held onto him on his bike. The awe on your face at the sight of the sunset. How you trusted him. 

The dread that ran through you when he led you into the back of that gas station. The look on your face when he told you he enjoyed it. How he felt you staring at him once he drove off. 

It was better this way. That’s what Rafe told himself every single waking second. Because he could not stop thinking of you every single waking second. He needed to rob this last bank and leave town. He could never see you again. Rafe knew if he did, he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back this time. Wouldn’t be able to stop himself from dragging you into the nearest empty space and fucking you until all you could blabber out was his name. He wanted to take up every fucking thought in your mind. Wanted to make you his forever. 

Hell, he was contemplating it now. Driving to your house and scaling up to your bedroom window. How he’d just watch you sleeping for a second. Admire how peaceful you looked. Then he’d climb in and toss you over his shoulder. If you stirred or woke up, he’d make sure you couldn’t scream. 

He’d take such good care of you in his own twisted way. Maybe you’d fight him at first, but eventually you’d understand, right? Rafe was so much better than any other man your parents could ever find for you. No. He’d never let another man have you. If he couldn’t have you, then no one could. He’d hunt down every single one and would find pleasure in their suffering. They shouldn’t have touched you.

Fuck, he was hard just from the thought of thinking about you. No one else ever had this effect on him. But that was the thing. You weren’t just anyone else. You’d become the focal point of his mind. The one thing he craved to have under him. You were the prey he wanted to capture.

Rafe glanced at the clock on the wall. 11:27pm. He had time. Just one more time. That’s what he told himself. One more high before he committed one last crime and left this town forever. Before he left you behind forever. 

Rafe unbuttoned his jeans roughly, pulling down his boxers in a hurry. This was better than the alternative. If he couldn’t have you, then at least he had the thoughts of you. Those belonged to him. Just like you would too- Stop.

He groaned slightly as his dick sprang up against his stomach, now free and painfully hard. “Shit…” Rafe muttered, slowly starting to stroke up and down his shaft as he let the thoughts come to him. He could almost imagine if you were here instead. If it were your soft touch jerking him off instead. How it would feel to have your hand wrapped around his cock. The thought spurred him on. 

Rafe’s motions sped up as he envisioned how nervous you’d be, hand trembling while trying to please him, your movements careful, unlike his. There would be no way you’d seen a man up close. And how glad Rafe would be as the first one to corrupt your innocence. 

“That’s it… go faster…” he’d growl, savouring your every stroke.

You’d do exactly as he said, of course, your eyes taking in everything. “L-like this?” you’d whisper, uncertain. 

“Fuck yes, sweetheart. Just like that. Doing so good for me.” 

Rafe can just imagine how you’d melt under his little praises. How your face would light up a little. How you’d bite your lip, brows furrowed in concentration. God, the look on your face when he came all over your hand-

The thought is what sends him over the edge now. “Fuck,” Rafe groans as he releases into his own hand, thick spurts of his cum staining the sheets. He sighs, cleaning himself up quickly before stuffing his duffel bag with the tools he got from the gas station last time. The same tools that made you see him for what he is. 

He knew what a sick fuck he was for getting off at the thought of you, especially now that you despised him. Rafe didn’t exactly care. He had nothing else left to lose now after he’d already lost any shot he had with you. There was never a chance to begin with. 

Rafe is a criminal. He’d make you remember it. Remember him one last time. Before he was out of your life forever. He shoved the gnawing feeling that came with the thought, pulling on his mask. He needed this high.

The town was flooded with sirens and police cars the next morning. Just like it always was after a robbery. Especially one at the biggest bank in the area. You stirred awake at the shrilling echoes, groaning softly. Your body ached from sleeping on the hard tiled floor, muscles sore. It’s okay. Only a few more nights until you were granted the comfort of your bed again. Just a few more days of this “penance”. 

The morning light was faint, falling in strips across the walls and over the scattered scriptures. There was no way to tell time here, but assuming you hadn’t been served breakfast yet, you assumed it was around 7am. You winced as you sat up, the dull throb in your head shifting to a dizzying feeling. Why wasn’t the ringing stopping? You rubbed your eyes desperately, pinching the bridge of your nose. The last few days hadn’t been ideal, but you’d never woken up like this. 

The sound was muffled. Distant. You focused on the rhythm, hoping that would make it go away. It almost sounded like… sirens? Why were sirens this early in the morning? The station shouldn’t even be open. You couldn’t figure out why you cared that much about them, but your mind refused to stay in one place. Why aren’t they stopping? Why- No… There was no way. He must have already left town after dropping you off that day. But then why did he get those tools from the back of the gas station? 

You dropped your head into your hands, squeezing your eyes shut. Whether to focus or shut out the thoughts? You couldn’t tell. The memories from then came crawling back, gripping onto the edges of your mind.

“Why do you do this?” You’d asked, so naive.

“Do what?” His voice was so… detached. 

“Rob banks. Commit crimes. Live a life on the run.” You’d wished he would tell you a good reason. “Don’t you want something… more?”

“This is who I am, sweetheart. I told you before. You hadn’t seen the worst yet.” 

“No,” you whimpered, trying to tether yourself to reality. Trying to escape the thoughts that lingered in your mind. His voice didn’t leave.

“This is what I do. I am selfish and corrupt, and that will not change.”

Stop thinking about him. There was no way. Those sirens could be for anyone. There were more criminals in town than just him. Your hands fisted in the thin fabric of your dress. What if they were looking for him? You almost laughed at yourself. Of course they’re looking for him. They’ve been looking for him for the past month. Even if he committed some crime and those sirens were for him, this had happened before. And everything had been fine.

You took a deep breath, trying to convince yourself that. He was fine, right? He was okay? You groaned, this time in frustration. Why did you care? He didn’t care about you. He’d told you that himself. 

"What, you really thought I was a good guy, huh, princess?” Rafe’s words came back to you again. “I told you what I am, and now you can fucking see it, can’t you?"

“S-stop,” you whispered brokenly, begging him. Like Rafe was here now and had some form of control over this. He had control over you. That’s why he wouldn’t leave, right? He wanted to make you suffer- What if they caught him? Is that why the sirens are louder this time? Why there is so much commotion outside? 

Why did it matter? Rafe was a criminal. He should be caught. He’d robbed banks. He’d done terrible things- You’d never see him again. It was not like you’d had much of a chance before, but now he’d be locked up for life. But he was supposed to come save you. Take you away from all this. You were his. 

“No!” you gasped, coming to from the grasp of the conflicting voices in your mind. Your mother was standing there. The door was open. Why was she standing there? She was supposed to give you meals through the slot in the door, but… she isn’t holding a meal.

Your mind was overcome with more thoughts, your head pounding harder. Had it been seven days already? Has your mind truly been so polluted that you couldn’t keep track of the days anymore? You’d barely read any of the scriptures. Your father was going to be furious-

“Hurry up. Do not make me repeat myself.” Your mother’s voice was harsher than usual. Did she say something? You could’ve sworn you didn’t hear. The sirens were still screaming outside. You tilted your head, a little confused about what she wanted. 

“Mama-” you started, but she cut you off with a sigh.

“Your father wants to see you,” she repeated. “Fix yourself.”

With that, she turned and walked down the hall. You watched her fading figure, attempting to straighten up. Your hands clung to the wall for support as you slowly stood, one of the few times in the past three days. Had it even been three days or seven? You had so many questions but didn’t want to risk upsetting your parents more. 

Your legs ached with every step as you shuffled down the hall towards your father’s study. He was sitting there, face stern as always, Bible in hand. You suddenly felt self-conscious as his gaze landed on you. You brushed your hands through your hair and over your dress in a weak attempt to make yourself a little more presentable, but it was obvious. You were a mess. 

“Sit,” your father commanded, voice chilling. 

You did as he told, taking a seat in the chair opposite him, your hands arranging themselves in your lap. Maybe he was feeling generous. Maybe he believed you’d been cleansed within three days. Maybe-

“Tell me what you know,” he asked firmly, eyes trained on you. 

“W-what?” you stuttered out under his gaze, not sure what to make of that question.

“You are seeing him.” There was not a hint of doubt in his voice.

Your blood ran cold. There was no way. Your father couldn’t know. How would he know? “S-seing w-who, sir?” you whispered, trying to stay calm. Your breathing was already shaky. 

“You think I don’t know?” he chuckled, the sound wrong. You’d learn over the years to keep silent. To show nothing. Let your father tell you rather than assume. But the thought of him knowing about Rafe made your stomach churn. You managed to stay silent, looking down at your lap.

Your father sighed as if you were being difficult. “Another bank has been broken into as of this morning.” No, no, no… It was Rafe. You tried to keep your expression neutral as he took a sip of his usual morning coffee before continuing, “The Dunwich one. The police say over ten thousand dollars were taken. Largest sum of any of the recent robberies.”

Your breath hitched. That was the biggest bank in town. Every police station within a radius of ten miles will be looking for Rafe. There would be a bounty on his head. A target on his back. You couldn’t stop a shaky gasp from escaping you as the dark thoughts clung to you. Again. No… You couldn’t do this now. Not in front of your father- What if they found him? He’d be shot dead. 

Rafe could be dead at any moment. What if he already was- 

Your father’s cold tone pulled you back to the present. “Do you understand now? He is a wanted man. You will tell me everything now.”

You bit your lip, understanding now what your father wanted. He wanted information about Rafe. Enough for the police to recognise him. Find him. Arrest him or worse. All so, your father could once again get the recognition and praise he so desperately craves. 

“I do not know anything about him, father. I’m- I’m sure he is a terrible man.” The lies felt bitter slipping from your lips. He was a terrible man. You were the preacher’s daughter. Why were you protecting him? You were supposed to be the town’s good girl. Helping your father. Helping the authorities. But you couldn’t. Rafe was going to save you from here, right? You couldn’t turn him in. How were you meant to keep your mind occupied with thoughts of him, knowing you were the reason he was arrested? Or dead. 

Oh God. Why was your mind wandering to such dark places? Maybe you deserved to be in “cleansing”. Your mind had clearly succumbed to the dark side, and you needed to break free into the bounds of holiness again-

“Look at you. Lying to me now,” your father’s jaw clenched as he stood, towering over you now. “He’s corrupted your mind, but I will make you pure again. Tell me about him. Now.” Your father demanded this time, his patience wearing thin. 

You looked up at him, inhaling another shaky breath. You couldn’t. How could you forgo the best escape you had? “Father, I don’t-”

Your head snapped to the side as your father’s hand cracked against your cheek. The slap pulled out a gasp from you, your skin stinging under his palm. “You pathetic little bitch-” he growled. You winced as his hand landed again. Harder this time. Silent tears were streaming down your cheeks now, but you knew better than to resist. Than to fight. 

Your father stopped then, as if waiting for you to speak. What were you even meant to say? You barely knew anything about Rafe. He’d existed in your mind longer than you’d ever spoken with him in person. You had no clue as to how he committed his crimes, where he stayed, or where he was now? All you knew really was his name. 

You thought about telling your father. Rafe. How would he say it? With disdain? With anger? How would the police say it? The town?

But his name was yours. It was the only thing you really had from him. You weren’t ready to share that with everyone. You couldn’t. It was yours.

You met your father’s gaze, lips sealed, bracing for more punishment. A caning? More time in that room? Forced to read scriptures to purify your mind? Instead, your father just stood there, assessing you. “You think I’m harsh, hm? Think you’re so tough?” Your father laughed, the sound mocking. “You will talk. The police will come. They’re already making rounds.”

His hand fisted in the knots of your hair, tilting your face up towards him. “And they won’t stop until they have an answer out of your wretched little mouth.” He held you there for a second, his eyes boring into yours before he dropped you back in the chair. “Lock her in her room,” he ordered your mother before storming out. You let out a sob once he left, taking in a desperate gasp of air. Where was he? Was he okay? You knew it was wrong, but you prayed desperately to God. Your fingers held tight to the necklace you wore. It matched your mother's with a similar smaller cross. You hoped he was safe.

He needed to leave. Needed to get out of town right now. Before it was too late. That was the only thing on Rafe’s mind as he sped down the empty road on his bike, the sun starting to set. He’d only taken what was necessary right now, knowing how to play this game with all his experience. The money was well hidden, and he would return for it later, once the heat had died down. It was too risky to smuggle it out now.

Rafe could see the town border in the distance. No police yet. Perfect. He should be content. Happy even. The heist had gone as well as it could and what he considered successful. He was ten thousand dollars richer. He was about to leave without any problems. Then why did he feel a pit in his stomach? 

Fucking hell. Of course, you were still lingering in his mind. He couldn’t even deny it. All he could see yesterday night while breaking open that vault was the look you’d have on your face if you saw him committing these crimes. The rush he got from that was more than he’d ever gotten from breaking into any bank. He could picture the fear in your eyes. Your shaky breaths. The way your hands would be playing with the hem of your shirt. 

Rafe scoffed. Of course, his subconscious had your typical mannerisms memorised. It didn’t matter now. He was going to leave. Come back a few months later for the money. He couldn’t see you then. Couldn’t risk it. The police would’ve surely gathered more than enough information about him within that time to have a rough idea of his demeanour. Rafe had been careful at covering his tracks, but one camera unaccounted for or one pair of strayed eyes and he’d be fucking compromised. 

Rafe almost didn’t notice as he reached the border, far too caught up in unimportant thoughts. It finally occurred to him then. He’d never see you again. Or perhaps if he, by chance, caught a glimpse, you would’ve moved on. It was better that way. That’s what he told you last time. To not wait for him. 

“Won’t be waiting for me now, will you, sweetheart?” Rafe’s tone had been cold. “Don’t.” He’d answered his own question, it being the last thing he said to you.

Rafe should be glad you were moving on. If not for your sake than for his. If he didn’t cross your mind, it was safer. Less of a liability. Then the images came. Rafe skidded the bike to a stop even though there was no one there. His jaw clenched as he pictured you. With a husband. Your father was certainly already eager to marry you off. Rafe knew men like him well. He imagined you, holding the arm of your newlywed husband, looking like the perfect wife. Smiling beside him. Laughing at his stupid jokes. You belonging to some other fucking man. 

He didn’t understand why he gave a shit. It wasn’t like you ever belonged to him. There was never anything between you two. So why couldn’t he go over the border? Rafe needed to go soon. But he just couldn’t. His body wasn’t cooperating. 

Just one last time. He took a deep breath, trying to steel himself. Rafe just needed to see you one last time. Needed to take in the high that came with it. That’s it. It wasn’t because he needed you. He just… needed the rush. At least that’s what Rafe told himself as he revved the engine and took a turn, speeding down the highway. In the other direction this time. Towards your house. Just once more before he left.

You were trapped. This time in your room. Your father had come back to drag you upstairs, tossing you past the threshold before looking at the door. It had been just around an hour, the sun beginning to dip past the horizon. You stared out the window, partly terrified, as you watched the police make their way down the street, officers knocking meticulously at each and every house. Taking their time to talk to every resident. This investigation was bigger than you’d anticipated. 

“Better to tell them the truth when they come.” Your mother’s voice, calm and steady, reached you. 

You turned to find her standing there. She looked as she always did, wearing a pale blue dress with white lace trims, hair pulled back in a neat bun. Put together despite everything that had gone on in the past few days. As if she didn’t have a care in the slightest about you, her daughter. 

“Mama, I didn’t lie,” you whispered quietly, not meeting her eyes.

It was clear she didn’t believe you either. “Whatever it is you know, confess it. If not to me, then to the police. Perhaps Christ will have mercy and forgive you.” 

You could see in your peripheral vision as she took a step closer. “I don’t know anything,” you breathed.

The next thing you felt was your mother’s icy hand tilting your chin up. “I did not raise you like this. You shall not behave like this.” She never sounded upset. Always just disappointed. “Your father was right. Once this is all over, you are in need of a proper cleansing. To rid your mind of whatever darkness it has congregated.”

With that, she spun on her heel and left, locking your door once again. No. You couldn’t go through that again. Three days had been grueling enough, but the thought of going through it again for a longer period was suffocating. You wouldn’t survive it this time. 

Your heart lept into your throat as you heard the voices of the police. Only one house down now. You needed to go. Escape. But the door was locked. You spun towards the voices again, eyes landing on the window. Your mind ran through every question. Every possibility. All at once. 

You could climb down, right? But where would you go even if you made it out? Maybe you could run away. Oh god. Your mother was right. You had lost your mind to these dark notions. You should just tell the police whatever you can. Purify yourself again through the cleansing.

What if you went to see Rafe? The idea jumped out at you for a second before you laughed at the absurdity of the thought. You had no clue where he was. The search was still going, so he was still free, but Rafe had almost certainly left town by now. He could be anywhere. Doing anything. Without you. He didn’t care about you. Why was that so hard for you to accept?

You layed back on your bed as the thoughts came. Hope. What if you somehow saw Rafe? Then everything would be fine, right? If you saw him, got some final closure that he never cared and that you both could never be together, maybe your mind would finally accept it. You’d believe it if it came from his lips. You’d get to see Rafe one last time, memorise every inch of him before he was gone. Then thoughts of him wouldn’t linger in your mind anymore. 

You imagined the better half of that scenario, something that was surely a daydream, but after the amount of sinful thoughts you’d had, you could let yourself indulge in a few more before the cleansing. 

Rafe deciding to take you with him. What if you could convince him? That you’d let him do whatever he wanted if he just saved you. That you’d do whatever he said. Rafe would agree, right? If you promised you’d be good, he’d agree. And he’d take you on the back of his bike to somewhere far away-

The light from the oranging sun came into focus again. You were running out of time to decide. The police would be here any moment, and it would be dark soon. In the high chance this didn’t work, you still had to come back. Even the thought of your father’s future wrath was painstaking. But if you didn’t go, you’d regret it. You knew that. Being trapped in your coordinated life, knowing you didn’t even try, was worse. What was he doing to you? You’d never think like this a week ago.

You stood, legs shaky, as you went to open your window as quietly as possible, trying to map out your course of action. There was a patch of grass below just before the hard concrete of the road and driveway. If you managed to somehow land on that you’d make it with some scapes at worst. Just as you were about to take a step onto the roof, the chilly air hit you like a wave. You turned back to your closet, opening it to look for something warm. That’s when your fingers brushed against it. 

Rafe’s leather jacket. The one he gave you after the night of the bar fight. You’d kept it neatly folded behind a box of scriptures. Back when you were still “pure”. Before you could think too much about it, you pulled it on over your dress. If you did see Rafe, you guessed you should return it. After all, it was his. God, it still smelled like him. Like cigarettes and his cheap whiskey.

You lost track of time once the sun set, barely a few minutes later, and the world plummeted into darkness. You’d managed to scale down the house and leave the neighbourhood without being seen. Your parents were most definitely aware of your absence by now. Maybe they were talking to the police right now. 

You whimpered, trying to slow down your running mind and focus on your shaky steps instead. The pounding had come back and the ache in your legs was worse than before. The lack of food and sleep was certainly getting to you, your vision blurring occasionally. Everything hurt. 

There wasn’t much ahead of you except a dark, empty road, tall grass surrounding its edges. It almost looked like the road where Rafe had taken you on that ride. You remembered every second. How it felt to be pressed against him. The wind in your hair. The golden sun sinking.

You tried to shun the memories that came after as another gust of wind blew, causing you to hug Rafe’s jacket tighter around you. You didn’t even know where you were or what you were doing. All you knew was you couldn’t keep walking for much longer. Exhausted was the only way to describe your state right now. Like there were chains holding you down, shackling you to the ground. Everything was heavy. 

You almost lost your balance on the next step, but managed to keep yourself upright. You had to keep going. You would find Rafe. You had to. He would come for you, right? He’d save you. 

“Fucking great,” Rafe muttered as he continued speeding down the road, his headlights cutting through the dark. He could see a figure in the distance. It was probably some hitchhiker, desperate to get a ride. The Rafe noticed their stride, as if every step was painful. 

Why the fuck did he care? He had one goal, and that was to see you then disappear- Rafe couldn’t help as his eyes zeroed in on the unmistakable white dress. He laughed to himself. There was no fucking way. How could you even-

Rafe braked hard, pulling the bike over as he realised he wasn’t seeing things. It really was you. Walking down the edge of the highway. 

You winced as his headlights landed on you, bathing you in white. You blinked, tilted your head slightly. You had to be dreaming. Or dead. You watched as a figure got off the bike, walking closer. Your lips curled up in a smile. This had to be heaven. There was no other way. 

“Rafe,” you beamed softly as you stumbled towards him, sure this was a hallucination. 

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” Rafe growled, eyes filled with a mix of confusion, anger, and pure possessiveness as he ripped off his helmet. His chest tightened at that pure, innocent smile of yours. 

“You’re here…” you whispered, smile not fading.

Something was wrong. Rafe could feel it. This wasn’t like you. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to-” Rafe didn’t get a chance to finish.

Everything went black. The last thing you felt was Rafe’s arms around you, your face pressed against the fabric of his shirt. 

Rafe lunged forward, just managing to catch you in his arms, pulling you instinctively against him. What the fuck was happening? He shook you slightly, trying to wake you up. “Get up,” he muttered as if he thought this was just a ruse. When you didn’t move, one of his hands flew to your wrist. You still had a pulse. A wave of relief flooded him. 

“Sweetheart? Wake up. Can you hear me?” Rafe called cautiously. “Wake up, damnit!” he cursed, his frustration building up.

You were wearing his jacket. The one he gave you weeks ago. You still had it. Unfamiliar warmth flooded Rafe’s body. You didn’t hate him. Still. Even after the incident at the gas station… You didn’t hate him. He couldn’t understand why. 

The feeling disappeared in a heartbeat as he noticed the bruise on your cheek, now dark and slightly swollen. Your fucking father. He’d hurt you. Rafe’s jaw clenched, rage flooding him as he remembered he’d sworn to kill him. When he saw him lay a hand on you. Rafe had been so caught up in the high he’d almost forgotten. Never again. 

Rafe was going to kill that son of a bitch if it was the last thing he’d do. He hurt what was his. And now Rafe would make him suffer. He slowly brushed back the hair that had fallen over your face with his free hand. He knew he couldn’t leave town now. Not yet. He couldn’t leave you like this. 

“You’re coming with me, princess,” Rafe murmured before lifting you up, one hand on your back, the other under your knees. He considered walking to his place for a second, but that would take too long. Using the bike would be difficult but not impossible. 

Rafe managed to get on after a minute, settling you sideways across the front of his Harley, your legs hanging over one side. He started the engine before wrapping an arm around your waist for support. Hopefully, he could drive well enough with one hand. 

“Hold on tight, sweetheart,” he purred, as if you were still awake. Rafe kicked up the stand before starting down the highway. He’d keep you safe. You were his now.

a/n: its finally hereeeeee!!!!! 🥳 im sorry this actually took so long lol but i hope you guys like it. we see a LOTT of reader's and rafe's thoughts in this one and i enjoyed writing both of their mental breakdowns and obsessions lol 🤭 anyways i love this series so much and as always tysm for all your support and im so excited to keep adding more little pieces to this little universe 💕 always feel free to send in requests and please please please scream and rant to me about this series ✨ i love seeing all your thoughts and my inbox is always open! ‎ꫂ᭪݁

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