Y/n POV
Sneaking over to the Cameron’s house had become a dangerous routine. For almost a year, Rafe and I were entangled, a relationship that started as a whirlwind but quickly devolved into something toxic. “Rafe, you have to stop the coke,” I pleaded, my voice heavy with sadness. We were trapped in another argument, a familiar cycle. In any healthy scenario, walking away would be the obvious answer. But Rafe’s threats were a dark cloud hanging over me, promises to harm my brother and friends if I dared to leave. Fear, cold and heavy, also kept me chained, the fear of what he might do to me if I tried to break free.
“Oh my f***ing God, you’re not my mom!” Rafe spat, annoyance twisting his features.
“I know that,” I started, trying to reason, but he cut me off with a roar.
“If you know that, then why do you keep acting like it?! It’s always ‘Rafe, stop this’ or ‘Rafe, don’t do that’! It’s not okay. Shut the f*** up! You are nothing to me, got that? You’re here for me. So don’t tell me what to do.” His voice was a weapon, each word laced with venom, delivered inches from my face. Tears welled in my eyes. I was always sensitive, emotions running close to the surface, and the constant fights with Rafe were chipping away at me. All I wanted was to escape, to erase him from my life. Every past argument, every harsh word, crashed over me, and a desperate longing for my brother surged within me.
“You know what, Rafe?” I declared, hurt and anger giving me a fragile strength as I stood up to face him. He glared back, his eyes promising violence. “We’re done. I’m sick and tired of you treating me like sh*t! We’re done!” I yelled, the words finally breaking free. I turned to flee, to escape his suffocating presence, but Rafe had other ideas.
His hand clamped around my arm, yanking me back with brutal force. He slammed the bedroom door shut, the sound echoing like a prison gate closing. He turned, his gaze locked on me, pure rage radiating from him. I could see it in his flared nostrils, the clenched fists, the rigid set of his jaw. “Do you not remember what I told you?” he growled, stalking towards me like a predator. “You’re gonna regret saying that.” He spat the words, and then his fist connected with my right cheek. Pain exploded, white-hot and blinding, and I stumbled back, disoriented. I was no match for his strength, a terrifying truth I was constantly reminded of.
“Rafe,” I choked out, pleading for him to stop, but his response was another punch. “Please stop,” I sobbed, tears streaming down my face, but my pleas were swallowed by his fury.
“Rafe!” A voice pierced through the haze of pain and fear. Rafe froze, his body tensing, and clamped a hand over my mouth, silencing my sobs. I was lightheaded, the room spinning, but I recognized Sarah’s voice, close, just outside the door.
“What Sarah?” he yelled back, his voice strained, trying to mask his violence.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, her tone sharp with suspicion. This was my chance. With a surge of adrenaline, I kneed Rafe in the stomach. He gasped, his grip loosening as he doubled over, fighting for breath. I scrambled to my feet and lashed out again, kicking him in the groin. He let out a guttural moan of agony. I didn’t hesitate. I lunged for the door, wrenching it open and bursting out of that room, that house, that nightmare.
I must have looked like a broken mess. Blood trickled from my nose, bruises already blooming on my face, stomach, and legs. “Y/n?” Sarah gasped, staring at me in horror as I stood before her, a shattered reflection of myself. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t explain. I pushed past her and ran, blindly, desperately, towards John B’s house. It was our safe haven, JJ’s and mine. I prayed with every fiber of my being that Rafe wasn’t chasing me, that I had finally escaped his grasp. I didn’t dare look back, just ran, my lungs burning, legs aching, fueled by pure terror. I never heard the roar of his truck engine behind me, a small mercy.
Finally, I stumbled onto the familiar porch of John B’s place. “JJ!” I screamed, my voice cracking, collapsing onto the ground, pain radiating through my body – the physical ache from Rafe’s blows, the deeper pain of betrayal and fear. “JJ!” I screamed again, knowing I couldn’t make it to the door on my own. “John B!” I yelled, desperate for anyone, any help. I curled into myself, clutching my stomach, gasping for air.
Then, the sound of a door creaking open, and a rush of footsteps. “Y/n?” JJ’s voice, laced with concern, reached me through the fog of pain. Hands touched me, gently rolling me onto my back. I groaned, every movement a fresh wave of agony. Gasps rippled through the small crowd that had gathered around me. I opened my eyes, blurry with tears, to see the worried faces of my Pogue family. “Y/n, who did this?” John B asked, kneeling beside me, JJ mirroring his position, their eyes filled with alarm. I shook my head, unable to speak, and the tears flowed freely. “JJ, it hurts,” I cried, reaching for my brother, needing his comfort, his strength. He looked like he was fighting back tears himself, seeing his sister broken and bruised. “I know. I know. I’m gonna lift you up, get you inside, alright?” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. I could only manage a weak nod, and then JJ’s strong arms were lifting me, carrying me away from the pain on the porch and into the fragile safety of home.
Confession and Confrontation: The Aftermath of Abuse
Inside, they rushed to care for me. Advil was pressed into my hand, and gentle hands cleaned my cuts and bruises. I sat huddled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, as John B finished tending to the last of my injuries. “Y/n, who did this?” JJ asked again, his voice low and dangerous as he sat beside me, the question hanging heavy in the air. I looked at each of them – JJ, John B, Kiara, Pope – my Pogue family, their faces etched with concern and anger. “Um. Uh well,” I stammered, anxiety tightening my chest. “Before you guys do anything, just let me tell you the whole story, okay?” I pleaded, my voice barely a whisper. They all nodded, their eyes fixed on me, waiting.
“About ten months ago, I started dating someone,” I began, the words feeling heavy and shameful. “Who?” JJ demanded, his voice sharp with protective anger. I shot him a look, begging for patience. This was hard enough without his immediate reaction. I was terrified of their judgment, embarrassed to admit the truth. “I was dating Rafe Cameron.” The name hung in the air, a toxic weight. A collective gasp filled the room. “For a little while, it was… fine. We had a good relationship, at least at the beginning. I didn’t tell anyone because, you know, Pogues and Kooks. Anyway, he just… changed. For a while, we’d just yell, fight, but then we’d make up, sleep together, pretend nothing happened. But that changed too. He started getting… cough physical,” I mumbled, the word catching in my throat, shame burning in my cheeks. I hated feeling weak, like I needed rescuing, like I was some damsel in distress needing her brother to fight her battles. “And tonight… tonight was the worst it’s ever been. As you can see,” I finished, gesturing weakly to my bruised face. I looked up at their faces. Shock, anger, disbelief. Pope’s face was pale, Kiara’s was tight with fury, John B’s jaw was clenched, but JJ… JJ was a storm of emotions. Upset, mad, furious, shocked – all battling for dominance in his eyes.
“Y/n, why didn’t you leave him?” Kiara asked, her voice flat, laced with a hint of accusation. I swallowed hard. “He threatened to hurt you guys. And he threatened to hurt me. Which he did. But I couldn’t… I couldn’t let you guys get hurt because of him!” I said frantically, trying to explain the impossible choice I felt trapped in.
“I’m gonna kill him,” JJ growled, the words a low rumble in his chest, and he stormed out of the house, a man possessed. John B and Pope scrambled after him, yelling his name. Kiara helped me to my feet, my body protesting with every movement. We rushed outside, fear propelling us forward. We watched in horror as JJ roared off on his dirt bike, a missile aimed at Rafe Cameron. “Shit!” John B yelled, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Guys, we have to go after him,” I said urgently, pulling their attention back to the immediate danger. “She’s right, we’ll take the van,” Pope nodded, already moving towards it. “Y/n, where would Rafe be?” John B asked as we piled into the van, the engine roaring to life. “His house, I assume,” I said with a shrug, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach. The thought of seeing Rafe again made my skin crawl, but stopping JJ was paramount. I had to prevent my brother from throwing his life away for revenge. I needed my big brother, and I couldn’t lose him to jail.
Brotherly Fury and the Cycle of Violence
“There’s his bike,” I pointed, spotting JJ’s dirt bike parked haphazardly near the Cameron’s house. I jumped out of the van before it even stopped completely, the others close behind. I doubted they were inside; JJ wouldn’t waste time knocking. I ran towards the backyard, the Pogues hot on my heels. “JJ!” I yelled, rounding the corner of the house. And there he was. Rafe. And JJ was unleashing a furious barrage of punches, his fists connecting with Rafe’s face again and again. “JJ, stop it!” Kiara screamed, running towards them, the rest of us right behind her. John B tried to pull JJ off, but it was like trying to restrain a hurricane. JJ was consumed by a primal rage. Rafe had laid his hands on his little sister, and in JJ’s world, that was an unforgivable sin. “JJ, stop please!” I yelled again, tears streaming down my face. I hated violence, hated witnessing it, even when it was directed at someone who deserved it. “JJ, stop, you’re scaring Y/n!” Pope shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.
The words seemed to reach JJ. His head snapped towards me for a split second, his fury momentarily faltering. Rafe, seizing the opportunity, lashed out, kicking JJ, sending him sprawling to the ground. “Rafe, no!” I screamed, lunging forward, but Kiara’s strong arms held me back. Instead, John B tackled Rafe, and they crashed to the ground, a chaotic tangle of limbs and rage. I ran to JJ, kneeling beside him, my hands hovering over his face, checking for injuries. “JJ,” I cried, cupping his face in my hands. He wasn’t too badly hurt, maybe a bruise, a cut lip. “I’m okay,” he said, his voice still raw with anger. “JJ, stop, please,” I pleaded, pulling at his arms as he tried to get back up, to rejoin the fight. “You’ll end up in jail. I can’t… I can’t have you in there,” I sobbed, clinging to him. He looked at me, his anger slowly receding, replaced by a weary resignation. His gaze dropped to the ground, shame flickering in his eyes. “John B, let’s go,” Kiara yelled, her voice sharp with urgency. John B, who was clearly winning the fight against Rafe, scrambled to his feet and spat in Rafe’s face. “Don’t you ever f***ing lay a hand on her again,” he growled, then stormed back to us. We didn’t wait, we ran, leaving Rafe bruised and defeated in his own backyard. Ward and Rose must have been absent, oblivious to the violence erupting on their property.
The car ride back to the Chateau was silent, heavy with unspoken emotions. Guilt gnawed at me. My brother and John B were hurt, all because of my terrible choices. We pulled up to the Chateau, the familiar sight offering little comfort. Everyone piled out, but I lingered, sitting on the edge of the van, legs dangling, staring at the ground. “You guys go ahead, I gotta talk to her,” I heard JJ say quietly to the others. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him sit down beside me. “I’m sorry,” I said, finally breaking the silence, looking at him instead of the dirt. “There’s nothing to apologize for,” he said softly, a small, sad smile touching his lips. “If I just hadn’t fallen for Rafe’s stupid self, none of this would have happened,” I mumbled, the self-blame heavy in my voice. “Well, that is true,” JJ conceded gently, “But Rafe could have also not been a psycho. It’s not your fault, Y/n, it’s his. You didn’t do anything wrong. No one’s mad at you for being with him, alright?” He reassured me, his voice calm and steady. I gave him a tiny nod, the tension easing slightly. “Are you hurt?” I asked, finally turning my attention to him, to the fight he had just endured. He let out a small chuckle. “I’m perfectly fine,” he said dismissively. “You’re the one I’m worried about,” he said, his fingers gently tracing a bruise on my face. “I’ll be okay,” I sighed. “It’s nothing we haven’t dealt with before, right?” The words slipped out before I could stop them, the dark memories of our father’s beatings rising to the surface. “Don’t say that,” JJ grumbled, his voice hardening, pain flickering in his eyes. “Sorry,” I mumbled again, instantly regretting the careless words. JJ hated talking about our father, the violence that had scarred our childhoods. The Pogues knew little of that darkness. “I love you, big brother,” I whispered, hugging him tightly, seeking solace in his familiar embrace. “I love you too,” he laughed softly, hugging me back. “Next time,” I said, pulling away to look at JJ, a small smile playing on my lips, “If you’re gonna fight Rafe, maybe don’t do it at his house.” JJ nodded, a grin spreading across his face. He stood up, pulling me up with him, and we walked inside together, the fragile peace between us restored. If Rafe ever dared to come near me again, I knew JJ wouldn’t hesitate to unleash his fury, but for now, in the quiet safety of the Chateau, we were home, together, and for the moment, that was enough.
