(chapter twenty six)

Clara asked Topper to take her to her house. She wanted to be alone, she needed to be alone with her own thoughts. She smiled when Richard came by, talking about his day and what had or hadn't happened, pressing a kiss to his daughter's forehead.

She played the part.

But when she was alone she could only stare at the turned off TV in front of her. She was correct when she thought it wasn't working anymore, Clara always seemed to be correct about everything, so how? How could she be so wrong about people? Why did they keep hurting her over and over again? What had she done to deserve that?

The next day went by and she didn't go to class, but how could she?

Topper showed up at her steps, but he wasn't wearing any uniform either. The boy just wanted to check out how she was doing, and you can't blame him for being worried, mainly that the girl was trying to act like nothing happened, a smile on her face and sarcastic comebacks.

He wanted to tell her she didn't need to hide from it, he would be the last person to judge her, but how could he do that without seeing her breaking again. Topper didn't know if he was strong enough to see that again.

Clara had not picked her phone in the last twenty hours, and it was lighting up with missed calls and messages. The name of the older Cameron sibling flashing on the screen, and Topper felt more worried than before. It didn't matter if Clara was mad about someone, she would always answer. It just wasn't right.

And it was also Topper who called the Heywards telling that Clara was feeling sick, giving the man a bullshit reason about food poisoning, and yet the girl was sitting in front of him, talking about something she read in one of her grandmother's diaries while eating one chocolate croassaint he brought to her, but he didn't pay any attention.

He felt better knowing that she wouldn't be alone at that time, and if he had to just sat there not hearing a thing she said so be it. Clara had suffer too much, he would be damned if he let her go through that alone once again.

Topper was now sitting on the couch, going through his phone, waiting for Clara to end her shower. She was taking too long, but he didn't want to go and interrupt, so he waited, and waited until there was a knock in the front door. Peeking through the eyehole he saw an anxious Rafe opening and closing one fist over the other.

"Why aren't you answering-" Rafe started when the door opened, only for him to stop when he saw Topper. "Where's Clara?"

"She's upstairs, showering," Topper answered, letting the boy walk inside, then closing the door as he looked back at him. "Actually, she's been there for at least 40 minutes and I'm feeling a little worried-"

"Why is she's taking so long, and why are you worried?" Rafe stared at him with furrowed eyebrows, but Topper only pinched his nose.

"Can you please stop being so fucking stubborn and just check up on her?" The younger boy tried again, only for the one before him nod, turning to the staircase and skipping a few steps to go faster.

His fingers knocked on the bathroom door and he waited, but there was no answer, so he did it again, warning he was coming in. When he opened the door he stopped his movements.

Clara was under the falling water, her hand holding a sponge as she scrubbed her skin, her body red from the hot water and the force she was using to clean herself, her lip trembling and jaw clenching.

"Hey, baby, what happened?" His voice soft as he walked more inside the bathroom, as the girl shook her head, and he noticed her breathing shaky, as Rafe tried to get her attention. "Clara?"

A sob left her lips, the wet hair glued to her face as she stopped the scrubbing, hands shaking as her brown tear filled eyes turned to him. Rafe couldn't be more worried and confused as she let go of the sponge, trying to wipe away her tears.

He walked foward, pulling the girl into a hug as she sobbed on his chest, not giving a care if the shower got him completely wet, as he could only very lightly rub his hand up and down her back, between her hair as she cried.

Rafe had made sure there was no more soap on her hody when he turned off the shower, wrapping a towel around her as he guided the girl back to her room. He put her on a dress which as easier to dress her up, even if she was still very willing to help, and he also had a change of his own clothes he had left the last time there.

And he held her, it wasn't long for the girl to fall asleep, and just now he had noticed the dark eyebags under her eyes, as a sign she had not sleep the whole night before.

So he walked down the stairs, Topper still there sitting on the couch as he waited, and he got up when Rafe appeared from the corner.

"Can you explain what the fuck was that?" Rafe's voice was angry, but still a little low, and Topper pushed his hair back.

"Something happened-"

"What did you do?!" The taller boy took a step closer, only for Topper to raise his hands to keep the distance between them.

"I didn't do anything to hurt her!" He defended as Rafe only opened and closed his fists, sending the boy a glare so he could continue. "Did you know that she was using drugs?"

"Clara wouldn't-"

"But she did, starting off with oxys, then she moved to weed because 'she didn't want to sleep'," Topper made quote marks with his fingers as he relayed what she had told him, bitting his lips as he pondered. "I don't think I should be the one to tell you-"

"You're gonna to tell me, or I'm going to make you, and trust me you don't really wanna piss me off right now," Rafe warned the boy, who passed his hand on his face.

"You know that kid? Ian Osborn?" Topper asked, seeing Rafe scrunch his forehead as he thought, giving him barely a nod. "I don't know the extents of what happened, but he called her to his house so they could try the 'good shit' — I don't know, but it wasn't right? I went to his house when she said she was there and when I got in Clara was unconscious and..."

Topper trailed out the words, but he didn't need to continue, Rafe understood. He could hear the heartbeats on his ears, his blood boiling as he was shaking in anger. He didn't hear Rafe asking where he was going, he just opened the door with force, his mind in overdrive.

First the news that Sarah and John B were back, and then he went straight to Clara's before doing anything else, to see if she could calm his angry mind and think straight, but this? Oh no, no, no. This was too much, and Rafe was so fucking angry.

He drove like a maniac to Barry's, walking up to the man as he owned the place. "Did you get my shit?"

Barry rolled his eyes, closing the book in his lap annoyed he eas interrupted. "Yes, I've got your shit. You got my money?"

"Yeah," Rafe answered, throwing the bills at the man as he got a hold of the white powder, putting it on his pocket. "Also, I need a piece."

The Cameron stared at Barry who just started to laugh, but Rafe stood there, hand shaking in anger. "Oh, shit! Country Club Killer now, huh? He need a piece!"

"Don't," Rafe yelled, slamming his hand on the table as Barry stared at him. "Don't mess with me. Not right now, alright? I need the gun."

"What do you need a piece for?"

Rsfe clenched his jaw, eyes so cold that made the older man turn serious.

"John B is back," he started, his voice turning lower, "Some fucking dude tried to take advantage of my girlfriend."

Barry looked up at him again, his head turning slowly to the side at that information. "Come again?"

"Some fucking kid, named Ian or some shit drugged her," Rafe explained, seeing Barry's face turn dark, as he kicked the table away in anger, a bottle shattering on the floor. "Fuck was that?"

"I know exactly who this kid is," Barry almost growled, getting up as he moved to the wardrobe, taking out a bag. "We gonna need a whole lot more than just a piece."

The man unclicked the weapon, checking the barrel to see if it was loaded and putting it on his waistband, before doing the same thing to the other, handing it to Rafe.

"We do this, you know I'll take care of you," Rafe stated, seeing the same anger on Barry's eyes. "All right?"

"This is a whole more than personal now, Rafe."

++++

Ian's head was pounding, and every part of his face hurt to move, but he was hungry. The boy didn't want to leave his room, he didn't want to face his parents and their questions of why his face was like this, so he waited until they were gona for work once more.

As he went downstairs, he tried to flicker the kitchen lights, trying again when none of them turned on. With a sigh, he moved to the fridge when two hands pulled him back, an arm wrapping around his neck, as a much bigger body kept him locked.

"You really shouldn't have done that," Rafe's voice was low on his ear, and Ian felt his blood run cold as he tried to pry the older boy away, with obviously no vail.

"You know, playboy, I really thought for a second that just maybe you were buying to have a different kind of good time," Barry said from one of the dark conners of the kitchen, and Ian tried to get away once more. "I know what you did."

"Rafe, dude..." Ian tried to reason, but then he felt a cold metallic cylinder shape against his ribs, his voice dying out immediatly.

"Ah, you know what it is," Rafe said through his teeth, the arm squeezing his neck more. "Try to move again and I'll shoot. More than once for good mesure."

"You know what we do to people like you?" Barry asked, his own gun pointed at Ian shining on the low light from the living room window, as the boy tried to shake his head, but the feeling of Rafe's 'shh' in his ear made him freeze. "Would you like to demonstrate, Rafe?"

"Walk," Rafe said to the boy, pressing the gun on his back as the younger boy moved foward, getting so close to Barry than he actually wanted.

"You see, we mark them," Barry explained, as his eyes trailed to the boiling water on the stove. "Right in the middle of the arm, a big R with a metal, or with a knife... but we don't have that here, so we'll have to improvise."

As Barry grabbed the pan, Ian tried to follow, but Rafe grabbed the boy once more, holding the neck with his right hand. "What did I say about trying it again? You know you're really testing my limits right now, and I'm not really finding it funny."

"Please don't-"

Rafe brought the guy closer to his face, voice barely above a whisper. "That was what Clara said, but did you?"

Ian was shaking, but Rafe pushed him against the counter, extending the boy's arm over the sink as Barry got closer. "No, no, no!"

And he poured the boiling water, the boy's screams being muffled by Rafe who pressed the boy's head against the counter. It burned so, so bad.

And they let go, the boy falling onto the ground with a tud, and Rafe brought his hand back, swinging with full force to the boy's back as he tried to hold his burned arm against himself.

"I'll be your worst enemy, and you fucking bet that I'm going to be there for every step you take," Rafe said it lowly, his feet meeting the boy's ribs as he walked out.

Barry stood for a bit, then he lowered his body so that Ian could hear him loud and clear. "If I were you I would leave and never come back, but it doesn't matter where you'll go, I'll send to my contacts your information, you'll have no piece for as long as you're alive."

And he walked away, leaving yhe sobbing boy on the ground, as he held the arm against his chest.

++++

Topper stirred awake from his sleep when he heard the movement from the front door. Clara was sleeping by his side on the couch, the notebook that was playing movie now dead after he don't know how long they had been asleep.

Looking through the keyhole once more and seeing Rafe, the younger boy sighed, opening the door. "Where did you go?"

"Had to take care of that bitch," Rafe answered, seeing the boy nod as he closed the door.

The Cameron boy's entire demeanor softnened when his eyes landed on a sleeping Clara.

"We ordered take out, maybe there's a few springrolls for you somewhere," Topper explained, grabbing his jacket and phone. "I really do need to go, though."

"Topper," Rafe called the boy, who turned to him, waiting for what would come after. "Thank you for being there when I wasn't."

"Clara's my best friend, Rafe. I did it for her, I'll always be there and I'll fuck you up if you do anything that can hurt her, too."

"I wouldn't expect anything else," the older boy smirked, uncrossing his arms. "But you could not stand a chance against me."

Topper rolled his eyes, opening the front door. "Sure."

And Rafe locked the door, laying the gun on the side of the couch then moving close to Clara so he could pick her up. Her eyes opened a little startled when there was a sudden movement.

"Hey, pretty girl, it's me," he whispered to her as her eyes finally focused on his half lightned face. "I'm just gonna put you on your bed."

Clara nodded slowly, her head resting on his shoulder as he moved upstairs, laying the girl back on the bed. Her hand holding his tight, as he took off the shirt and kicked his sneakers off, hopping in on the bed besides her.

"I'm sorry," she said it when his blue eyes met hers.

Rafe reached out so he could cup her face on his hand, caressing her cheek softly. "You have nothing to be sorry about, baby."

"Are you okay?" Rafe wanted to laugh with that question. No, of course he wasn't, but it was him who was supposed to ask that. But Clara was this type of person. She was kind, and caring, she wanted to see the good in people. "Did the travel went well?"

"Everything is fine, don't worry." He reassured her, and unconsciously himself too. "Let's focus on you today, alright?"

Her lip was in between her teeth as she nodded, scooting closer to Rafe as the boy didn't hesitate in opening his arms so she could get comfortable, his hands going up and down her back in a soothing way.

Hear me when I tell you, you should cherish this moments.

Protective Rafe... AND Barry 😩😩😩

John B and Sarah are back, so now we can continue the story in it's full course, the pogue era!

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