F I V E
sad feels and big dick ideals.

The panic that claws at my throat doesn't leave until the coast is clear and we get out of the cramped chicken coop.

The one thing holding me back from full-blown panic was dignity—there is no way in fucking hell I am crying in front of JJ Maybank. I've cried in front of Kie more times than I can count, and I think, while it would be awkward, I'd survive crying in front of Pope and John B. But I'd rather die than cry in front of JJ. Not happening.

The humidity and heat outside, hardly compared to the inside of the wooden hellhole—paired with the absolute stench, made it almost unbearable. Now, the outside world feels fine.

We all move quickly toward the baby-shit yellow-coloured kombi. John B jumped into the driver's seat, Kie taking the passenger seat. And me sandwiched between Pope and JJ in the back.

My sweaty skim almost immediately sticks itself to the cracked leather, and being pressed against both boys means I'm quickly overheating again. Thankfully the front windows are open, so I do feel like I can breathe.

From where he is sitting beside me, Pope dangles the loop of the compass from his hand. I watch the way the light reflects from the once shiny, now scruffy surface.

"I mean, it's obvious right, a family heirloom. What better place to hide a message?" I listen to John B try and make this situation sound less nuts than it is. No one is agreeing—except Kie.

I watch Kie look at her lap, where she fiddles with her finger. "Yeah, it's possible." She agrees, not sounding as hesitant as she should be.

"It could also be possible that you're concocting wild theories to help, you know, deal with all your sad feels." Pope poses. Something I wholeheartedly agree with. But Kie turns and shoots him a 'what the fuck' look.

JJ turns his face toward me, I look back at him as well. "You know how I process my sad feels, sweetcheeks?" He asks rhetorically. I realise how close we're sitting, I'm practically sitting on top of him my body pressed right against his side. The hand that isn't holding the handle on the roof sits on his leg, and his fingers brush my thigh. "Sex with y—" he begins saying quietly.

"JJwhatthefuck!" I rush out in one quick, breathy word, interrupting his completely inappropriate remark.

He just smirks and offers a flippant shrug.

He is never processing any sad feels with me ever again.

With every bump the kombi hits on the way to Redfield lighthouse, my seatbelt jolts. Being held together with duct tape whenever the lump tries to go through the feeder I almost get whiplash. And each time it pulls me closer to JJ, and I shuffle back, only for life to throw me back at the blond.

I'm never letting him anywhere near me again. Starting tomorrow.

When we arrive at our destination, and all clamber out of the car, I see the lighthouse. The majority of the tall structure is painted a creamy white, but the top third is a deep, slate grey. It's got a certain charm to it; the weathered effect.

Once again the outside air feels cool and crisp, the anxiety clawing at my chest doesn't feel so crippling when I'm outside. It makes it a little easier to breathe, my body lets my lungs open a little more.

"Right, here's what's going to happen." John B begins explaining. "JJ you'll post up and look out for bogeys, okay?" John B tells JJ, when I look at the blond he looks extremely offended. Great.

"Wait, why me?" He asks. His face is also full of confusion as to why taking him somewhere risky may not be the brightest idea.

"Because you're not coming," Pope answers harshly, giving him no real explanation.

"Why?" JJ pushes.

"Look, JJ, there are independent and dependent variables. And you're an independent variable. We don't know what you'll do." Pope explains he doesn't seem to take into account the quickly growing fury on JJ's face. It seems he doesn't like the label of a loose cannon that isn't to be trusted.

JJ takes a step forward, his hand reaches out and points an aggressive finger in Pope's face. "Shut up!" He yells, anger pouring off him. "How is Mabel, not an independent, huh?" He gestures at me, throwing me under the bus.

Kie scoffs, "Because I've known her since I was a fucking child, JJ, and she isn't reckless." She defends me.

"Really? She's not reckless? That's fucking hilarious she's fu—" JJ laughs coldly, getting ready to throw me under another bus. The anxiety claws at my chest again, squeezing my lungs tight. Why would he even begin to say that?

"Just listen to me!" John B raises his voice above everyone else. "Listen to me, just listen to me. Frankie, you stand lookout with JJ. Okay?" He changes the plan slightly. "If we get split up, we meet back up at JJ's house." He explains the final part of the plan.

I don't say anything, I just give him a curt nod of agreement, and then the trio walls over to the tower. Leaving me and a grumpy JJ.

I walk over to the van again and slide open the door and perch myself inside, my legs dangling out the van. Pulling out my phone I look through Rafe and my conversation, dread filling me further with each hateful message.

"You talking with your fucking boyfriend? Huh?" JJ scoffs, standing a few meters away from me, a foul look on his tan features.

"You have no right to be pissy with me, you were fully prepared to throw me under the bus thirty seconds ago. Do you have any fucking idea what would happen if it gets out what I do behind his back? He'd fucking kill me." I spit, genuine anger filling me.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't be cheating on him?"

"Captain fucking obvious. Well, I can't change the past, but I will take your advice for the future." I look back at my phone and click the call button on Rafe's contact and put it up to my ear. JJ walks away.

"Dinner's in ninety minutes, and you aren't at your parent's, so for both our sakes I hope you're buying a nice fucking dress and you're not at Kiara's house hanging out with the trashy Pogue's." He doesn't even let me get a hello in before he starts spewing hatred at me.

I've got an hour and a half before I have to be at the Cameron house—well, a little less than that, God forbid I'm late. I glance over at JJ, not wanting him to overhear the conversation, but he's busy throwing sticks at an old bird's nest. "I—uh, I just need to run a few small errands, but I'll be there, okay? Wouldn't miss it." I try and sound happy, hoping he catches on to the positivity. At this point I don't even bring up the fact he is blatantly stalking me, or, at the very least, he has one of his cronies following me around, probably looking through my windows—I don't know which option is worse.

"You're staying over, I need to unwind before I go mental. Everyone is pissing me off." He rants. My face falls a little, the fake smile on my face I used to try and convince myself it's all okay falters because it's not okay. He's not subtle, and it would take a fucking idiot to not put two and two together as to the true intentions as to what he really wants.

I lean against the door of the yellow kombi, and checking JJ is still preoccupied I smack my head against the metal lightly. I'm not in a coma, good to know this is all painfully real.

"Rafe," I say quietly, perhaps a little desperately, my head now pounding a little. I really need to drink more water. The light pushback isn't going to do anything, but I try anyway.

JJ stops throwing sticks at me and turns to look at me, his eyes incredulous and sharply judgemental. I don't meet his gaze, a mix of anxiety and a sense of shame filling me, instead, I stare at the stained laces of my tattered trainers.

"You owe me for the shit you pulled last night." He scoffs, acting like sex is something you can owe someone. Rafe would never physically force me to do anything, instead, he has no shame in guilt-tripping and asking me again, and again until I say yes. He'll tell me how bad his day was, that he fought with his father or Rose, or if he ran out of coke, or maybe he got woken up before midday. Sometimes he goes down the road that he loves me, and just wants to be close with me. And other times he just says if I don't have sex with him someone else will—I think I'm teetering on telling me to just go find someone else. It messes with my head, trying to sort out what I know to be real and what I think is a lie.

The line between Rafe's true feelings toward me, and where the manipulation begins is so blurry and mixed into one by now I can't tell. I do know Rafe cares about me, and I do think he—at least thinks—he loves me. But there is no healthy way he can show me because the way he cares isn't healthy. All gifts are either apologies for the awful things he's done, like the dozens of roses I got after he cracked my head open, or guilt trips for me giving things back to him. It's never just a gift with Rafe. Rafe is so brain broken, but he does know right from wrong. He knew hurting me was wrong, and yet he did it again.

"I love you, Franny. Don't forget that." He tells me with such certainty my stomach clenches in a manner that makes me feel sick.

There's a second of pause. "I love you too, Rafe." I finally repeat back, because that's just what I'm supposed to do. And with that said, he hangs up, and a small weight is freed from my shoulders, I've smoothed over the latest disaster.

I look up and finally meet JJ's eyes. "You're such a fucking liar." He shakes his head, cold amusement filling his tone. He really seems to be showing off a God complex, he seems to think he's a Saint in all of this, that he has absolutely no dirt on his hands. I'm by no means the victim, I'm doing far worse than him, I'm cheating repeatedly, but his hands aren't clean, he's sleeping with someone fully knowing they're with someone else. JJ knows I'm with Rafe—everyone knows I'm with Rafe.

"Don't start shit, JJ. Because I really cannot deal with it, if you think I'm so fucking disgusting you don't have to associate with me, we can go back to pretending the other doesn't exist and never speak again." I offer. My hands busy themselves, tugging the hairband from my hair and redoing the ponytail that there is nothing wrong with. It just began to feel wrong.

"You know, I thought you were better than all that Kook shit, but no, you are just like off the trust fund douchebags on Figure Eight. Actually, you could be worse, because you're with Rafe. And either you didn't give a shit about everything he's done, or you were too fucking stupid to see it. So, which was it, sweetcheeks?" He tips his head like he's actually interested in the answer. He's never been like this to me. Malicious for no good reason. I haven't done shit to him, I didn't call him a loose cannon, that was Pope. A switch just flipped somewhere in his head, and suddenly I am someone who deserves a verbal beat down.

Why does every man that gets close to me have to talk to me like I'm a piece of shit?

Except for my brother, Robbie, he seems to be the only exception.

I stare at him, dumbfounded at his words. I shake my head, I shouldn't be surprised this is how he's turned out. "Don't you dare act like you know me because you don't know shit. I am nothing like the Cameron family, I am nothing like Rafe, or Topper, or Kelce. And, shockingly my relationship with Rafe is a lot more complicated than whether I love Rafe or not." I tell him, looking him straight in the eye, wanting him to see what his words have done. "The Cameron's employ my father, and before I started dating Rafe, we were drowning in debt, we were weeks away from losing our house, but when I started dating Rafe my Dad magically got a massive raise and that's the only reason we still live where we live. In a house my parents didn't buy, my Dad inherited it, we never could've afforded that house." I needlessly explain, trying to get him to understand why it isn't an easy situation. Half of me is angry that I'm telling him such personal details of my life, stuff not even Kie or Sarah knows, and the other is glad that finally, I can say what I've been worried sick about for months out loud. "And when I tried breaking up with him today, he slapped me across the face. So, to answer your question, I was just a stupid girl who got in way above her head."

He pauses as he takes in the information dump. "I thought your face was red because of a rash." He replies quietly.

"No. You didn't." I disagree, standing up out of the van. "So, now I'm walking home, getting all ready to play dress-up with Rafe so I don't end up homeless." I spit, before turning to walk away.

"Mabel," he calls after me, but I don't even turn around. He sounds like he's gone all Vampire Doares and switched his humanity back on.

I hear a thud, I think he kicked something.

The Cameron family dinner was cancelled. Apparently, some worker stole from Ward, and he needs to fire them personally. Tragic, really. I was so looking forward to it. So, instead of having a painfully tense dinner, I'm laying on Rafe's bed going through all the twelve times tables, all the way to one hundred times twelve, while he makes out with my neck. I think this may actually be worse.

I am quite possibly the furthest from being in the mood as physically possible. To be fair, I haven't really been in the mood to do anything with him in a long while, but today pretending he's someone else is not working. So, when all else fails there is driving me insane with maths.

Fourty-six times twelve is five-hundred and fifty-two. Forty-seven times twelve is five-hundred and sixty-four... Eighty-four times twelve is one-thousand and eight.

He moves on to grabbing at my clothes and I snap, "I'm sorry, I'm really hungry, can we get something to eat before we... continue?" I break the wordless silence that deafened me. He pulls away, and a face of impatience covers his features before he squashes it with a smile. It's such a thinly veiled angry face, it's almost worse than outward anger.

"You sure food can't wait? How about we watch a movie." He tries to pull me away from the idea of food. Like a movie is a reasonable substitute for food.

I'm hungry, not bored, I want to tell him. Although, I'm also bored because you making out with my neck and shoulder isn't prime entertainment and I think you'd be offended if I went on my phone and played Battleships.

I don't say any of it.

He sits back, looking down at me, my hair messy from where he's pulled at it, top ruffled from where he started taking it off. He then grabs the remote and begins fiddling with it, turning on the TV and scrolling through Netflix. From his nightstand my phone buzzes, as it has been doing all day, it's going to overheat and melt at this rate. Reaching over I pull it off charge.

From: BadGalKieKie.

You free? We could use you're help, plus, it's nice to have a break from non-stop testosterone. We're about to pass through your neighbourhood.

My thumbs hover over the keyboard. JJ will be there, and seeing him right now is not at the top of my bucket list. But Kie will be there, and that is up there will the things I'd cut my toe off to do right now. Biting the inside of my cheek I look at Rafe, who is watching Rick and Morty. "Babe, my Mum needs a hand back at h9me, she's coming round to pick me up." I lie through my teeth, deciding to tack on a babe for good measure, he likes it when I do that. Makes me want to die, though.

He breaks his concentration on the TV and looks toward me. "Say no," he tells me, then looks back at the TV.

"It—" I get one word of my argument out before he cuts me off.

"No." He snaps. "We don't ever spend time together anymore, I don't even know where you are all day, and don't tell me you were running errands because Kelce was on the high street and didn't once see you. So, say no."

I physically bite my tongue, letting my brain think before my mouth starts talking. The patch of his he struck this morning heating up with the conversation, the line I thought he would never cross again has born crossed and I no longer can predict him like I thought I could, so I need to at least try and play smart.

From: Frank Ocean.

Pick me up outside Rafe's, I'll be there in five.

I type out the response quickly.

"If I'm staying I'm going to need something to eat, Rafe," I tell him, after a pause he sighs, the irritation something even a deaf person could hear.

"Fine. I'll go get you a Diet Coke." He rolls his eyes and stands up, not looking back as he leaves his room, slamming the door behind him with a bang that shakes the pictures hung on the walls. The ones he hasn't smashed in fits of rage.

I don't waste a precious second, I instantly stand up and rush over to the balcony. With anxious, shaky hands I unclick the catch and slide the door open, thankful there isn't a squeak. Making sure my phone is tucked securely into my cotton shorts—which admittedly aren't prime climbing gear, but I'll take what I can get—I throw my keg over the concrete railing, and send a quick prayer. I use the tree next to his balcony to climb down, it doesn't take more than two minutes, but every second drags on. A mix of the knowledge Rafe will be back quickly, and I'm dangling two stories in the air.

When my feet hit the perfectly manicured, dewy grass I'm tempted to kiss it, but instead, I begin sprinting like my life depends on it toward the large cast-iron gates that in case the Cameron residence—I guess my life kind of does depend on it. Running right through them I see the Godawful yellow van parked a little way down the road, I don't slow my pace until I reach it. Not even when I hear Rafe shouting my name into the muggy night.

I've dumped fuel on the already blazing inferno. I've fucked myself over, again, but I don't have it within me to care right now.

The door slides open when I am near, and I jump into the back. Trying to downplay how puffed out I am.

"Frankie, you look like you just escaped Broadmoor, not your boyfriend's house." Kie laughs and slides the door shut once more, behind me. And the van quickly begins driving away, each kilometre I gain away from Tannyhill, I can breathe a little deeper.

Climbing across the car I plop myself in the seat next to Kie—this one has a working seatbelt—while still trying to catch my breath. "Honestly, I don't think they are all that dissimilar," I admit darkly, grabbing my phone and putting it on mute so the influx of calls from Rafe will just go to voicemail. I'll deal with it later.

JJ sits in the front, unusually quiet, the moon casts bright, white light on his features, he looks pensive. Either that or constipated. Could go either way.

"Do you mind if I just relax on this one?" JJ asks, his voice sounding distant, deep in thought. "It's been a long day, and a lot of confusing shit has gone down." He explains, taking a lungful of the intoxicating from his blunt. I can't help but think some of that could be what went down between us—I scrap that thought.

I shift in my seat, not really wanting to be even this close to JJ. I feel a little stupid that I thought he was different. I should really get a female side piece, the women in my life are great.

"So, what's the new mission about?" I ask. I only got dragged into this today, and I've already done so much. This entire day has been packed full of stuff I wouldn't have believed would have happened this morning. I would've laughed if you told me.

John B gives me a fleeting glance through the rear-view mirror.