Guilt. It eats you alive, it consumes your every thought, it controls you from the inside and makes you question everything you thought you knew about yourself. I always thought that I was a good person, but recent events have suggested otherwise. My friends still hate me, they don't even look at me when we pass in the street. My parents think I'm fine when in reality I'm struggling to keep my head above water, feeling as though I've got weights around my ankles that are trying to drag me down.

Everyone presumes John B and Sarah are dead, it's been over a week since they disappeared in that storm, and we've not heard from them or seen anything in the news about them. I have to hope that they're alive, because if I lose that hope, I lose my hope in Maggie still being alive, and without that hope I don't have much left to live for.

The first three days after John B and Sarah disappeared I was just about keeping myself afloat, staying at Tannyhill with Rafe to avoid my parents' persistent questions. Wheezie asks me questions, Ward tiptoes around me like I'm a fragile object and I'm pretty sure that Rose is terrified of me and my emotional instability. My parents keep asking if I'm okay, which obviously I'm not, but that facade of stability all came tumbling down on the fourth day.

When I came home to get myself some clean clothes to take back to the Cameron residence, I found the clothes Sarah had leant me and I spiralled. I spent three hours lying on the floor sobbing through waves of multiple anxiety attacks. Except I didn't have JJ there to calm me down, and I didn't want to burden Rafe, so I had to resort to other, less favourable options.

I never intended to start doing cocaine, especially after Rafe warned me off of it, but when the anxiety attacks, the flashbacks and the trembling stopped the first time I tried it, I quickly realised that quitting would be easier said than done.

Rafe doesn't know about the drugs, I told Barry that it has to stay that way if he wants to keep me as a customer, and who is he to say no? So whenever the dreams start or my mind goes dark with anxiety I'll do a line and everything is okay again, until it's not. But I've already slipped down the slippery slope that Rafe warned me about; when you do the coke so much that you stop feeling the emotions you were running away from in the first place.

As far as Rafe is concerned, he thinks I'm on the medication that the doctor suggested in that first intervention before John B went missing. Meanwhile my parents think I'm doing just fine, and that my improvement in emotional stability is all down to Rafe and his family's hospitality.

But without the drugs, I would be an emotional and physical wreck, a prisoner of my own guilt, for now I'm just emotionally and physically numb, relying on vices to keep me afloat.

If you had told me two months ago that today I'd be at a funeral, taking drugs just to get through the day all while holding onto the arm of Rafe Cameron, I probably would've called you a liar. But that's exactly what I'm doing, and nothing about it feels good.

We're at Sheriff Peterkin's funeral, and as the girlfriend of Rafe Cameron who is the son of the most respected man on the island, I sort of have to be there for the reputation of his family. If the choice were mine, I would still be in bed, pretending none of this had happened.

As the pastor begins his eulogy about the Sheriff's career and dedication to the community, I take Rafe's hand in mine, the pair of us standing beside the rest of his family as we watch the coffin be lowered into the ground.

I honestly don't know if Rafe is coping, he tells me that he's fine anytime I ask him, but he's a good enough liar that I can never tell if he's being honest about how he feels.

We've both changed a lot since Sarah and John B disappeared, arguably for the worse. Rafe is still physically affectionate, but he doesn't talk to me the way he once did, he's snappier, and he doesn't smile the way he used to. I really fucking miss his smile.

His hair has also changed, making him look older, but by no means wiser. He'd stopped slicking it back about a week ago, letting it sit naturally in its messy middle part, not really doing anything to it in the mornings. I'm convinced that his eyes are darker too, they don't quite light up the way they did when he used to look at me, they're just always dark now.

If he knew about the cocaine I don't know whether he'd comfort me or shout at me, that's probably the easiest way to articulate him these days, unpredictable.

"And so we commit Susan Peterkin's body to the ground, hoping that her soul will find comfort and peace beyond this world she leaves behind." The pastor says as I squeeze Rafe's hand gently, brushing my fingertips over his knuckles.

"And as we leave here today, I ask you all to approach life with the same passion and pride as the late Sheriff Peterkin." The pastor smiles solemnly, watching as the coffin is lowered to the bottom of the grave.

People begin to talk among themselves as the service ends, the faint hum of Bridge Over Troubled Water coming from a nearby speaker. I stay silent, unsure of the right words to say to Rafe, I never really know the best way to talk to him these days, something that just two weeks ago, we never struggled with. I keep finding myself thinking of the right words to say, rather than just letting the words speak for themselves.

I hate the fact that everyone wears black at funerals. I know it's symbolic of death, but it makes the occasion feel even more morbid than it already is. I hope that when I die it's a celebration of my life, and people wear colour, all my favourite colours. But who would even be there? My parents will probably die before me, the people I once called friends wouldn't want to be there. But would Rafe still love me enough to attend? Or would we have broken each other by then?

I look up at Rafe, hoping, maybe even praying that he'll say something that will make me feel more normal again. The two of us standing in shared silence as the people around us slip into conversation, just our interlocked hands keeping us together.

"Hey," Ward approaches us, snapping me out of my daydream, "The cops want to ask me a few more questions about what happened on the airstrip, would you two drive Wheezie home?"

"Sure," I nod, squeezing Rafe's hand as he stares blankly at his father.

"Great," Ward nods, "Wheeze, Rafe and Sidney will take you home."

"I'm riding shotgun," Wheezie exclaims as she walks over to us.

"Sid sits next to me," Rafe tells her bluntly, "You'll be in the back."

"Sorry," I silently mouth at Wheezie reassuringly.

She's probably the most normal person living at Tannyhill, yes she asks me questions, but they're never overly intrusive, I think she just gets lonely. Rafe never has time for her, and I can tell that she's missing Sarah, so when I'm feeling levelled out from the coke, I make sure to spend time with her.

We begin walking back to the car, Rafe letting go of my hand and wrapping his arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his side and whispering, "You want to join me in bed when we get back?"

It's been his default coping mechanism since Sarah and John B disappeared. Instead of talking when he needs me, he just instigates sex. I don't know if it's something to do with wanting to be close to me, or finding comfort in being in bed with me, but he just suggests it at the most random moments.

At first I thought it was fun, as if he was just being spontaneous, suggesting it when we were in the car, or when the whole family were in the house. But eventually I began to realise it went deeper than just being sexually attracted to me.

"I've got to go to the country club with my parents, remember?" I whisper, watching as Wheezie walks ahead of us.

"Can't you just skip it?" He mutters, trailing his fingers over my shoulder and up to my neck, "I just want to make you feel good."

"I've not seen them in a while," I reply, wrapping my arm around his waist, "They just want to take me out to lunch, you can come if you want."

"No, it's fine," He mumbles, letting go of me and unlocking the car, climbing into the driver's seat as Wheezie gets into the backseat and I take the passenger seat.

"Can you put my music on?" Wheezie asks as Rafe connects his phone to the car.

"No," He tells her bluntly, "I'm putting Sidney's on."

Well this is new. I glance at the control panel of the car as the sound of Dancing Barefoot by Patti Smith comes from the speakers. Above the title of the current song the playlist title reads Songs For Sid. I decide not to say anything, knowing that he won't want me to be affectionate in front of Wheezie.

Instead I just rest my hand on his thigh as he begins to drive towards the cemetery exit. We pass other people who were guests at the funeral, and despite the tinted windows, I still feel like their eyes are on us.

"Sidney, do you want to watch a movie when we get home?" Wheezie asks me from the back seat.

"She's got plans," Rafe tells her quickly, before I can even open my mouth.

"Yeah, I'm seeing my parents for lunch," I smile at her, observing Rafe's clenched jaw as he focuses on the road ahead, "Maybe later though?"

"Am I ever going to get you to myself?" Rafe mutters, placing his hand on top of mine.

"Not when your sister prefers my company," I grin, interlocking our hands and lifting them towards me, kissing the back of his hand.

"She's not wrong." Wheezie adds, attempting to wind up her brother.

"You two can walk if you're going to gang up on me." Rafe smirks, tapping the steering wheel.

"I can't help being incredibly loveable." I grin, admiring the way his mouth curls up. I've missed the way he used to smile.

"You're trouble, that's what you are." Rafe smiles as we turn onto the street where Tannyhill is.

"But you love it," I play along.

"You two are so couply, it's weird." Wheezie exclaims from the back of the car.

"You'll understand when you're older, Wheeze." I sigh as we pull up in front of the gate.

Maybe it's my imagination but I'm sure I can see Kiara and Pope further along the exterior wall. I glance at Rafe as the gates open slowly, realising that he hasn't seen them. I have no intention of telling him. They might hate me, but I'm not going to instigate another fight just for them to hate me even more.

"So does that offer you made earlier still stand?" I ask Rafe as we pull into the driveway, slowly driving around to the side of the house.

"That offer?" Rafe smirks, and I can practically see his eyes dilating at the idea.

"Yeah." I nod, hoping that I can at least be a distraction from Kiara and Pope until I have to go to the country club.

"Wheeze, you can watch any movie you like when we get inside," Rafe tells her as he runs a hand up the inside of my thigh.

"Even Scream?" Wheezie asks as Rafe parks the car up.

"Sure," Rafe sighs as Wheezie gets out of the car.

As the car door closes Rafe's lips are on my, pulling me towards him firmly as he grips my hips, "You drive me fucking crazy, you know that."

"Yeah," I smirk, "But can we at least go inside before you start tearing my clothes off of my body."

Rafe wastes no time in leaving the car, rushing around to the passenger side and opening my door. He locks the car and grabs my hand, pulling me inside the house.

Once upstairs, his hands are all over my hips, guiding me toward his bedroom as he lets his fingers roam my body.

When we reach his bedroom he kicks the door closed behind us, pulling me towards him abruptly as our lips collide in a desperate kiss. I slide his suit jacket off of his body as he guides me back to the bed. The back of my legs hit the side of the bed and I fall back onto the mattress, Rafe standing over me.

He crouches at the end of the bed, removing my shoes before slowly trailing kisses up the inside of my legs, my body buckling under his touch. I'd be lying if I said that this doesn't help me forget everything else, because it numbs all those thoughts and worries to the point that they may as well not exist.

"Come here," I exhale, tugging on his shoulders and pulling him closer so that I can kiss him properly, letting my hands run through his messy hair. Obviously I was already attracted to him before he let his hair be messy, but now he's even harder to resist.

"You're such a fucking menace," He smirks against my lips before he begins placing slow kisses along my jaw and down my neck, sending heat rippling through my body.

"Learnt from the best." I whisper in his ear as he runs his tongue up from my collarbone to below my ear while I undo the tight tie that has been hanging around his neck like a noose, dropping it on the floor.

These days this is the only time he'll let me see all of him, the good and the bad. So as much as I don't want him to use sex as a coping mechanism, I appreciate him for letting me in.

I'm snapped out of my lust fuelled haze by the muffled sound of shouting outside. I quickly realise that it's Kiara shouting 'murderers', so not wanting Rafe to get involved I pull him back and resume kissing him, running my hands down his chest.

I hear Kiara again, and this time I can tell that Rafe heard it, his eyes tell me everything as he pulls away, "Did you hear that?" He asks, hovering over me.

"Hear what?" I play dumb, leaning on my elbows and kissing his neck slowly as I hear Kiara again.

"Fuck this," Rafe climbs off the bed, heading straight to the balcony doors, opening them as I watch from the bed.

As he opens the doors I rush to his side, following him out onto the balcony, both of us looking down at Kiara and Pope as they watch us from outside the walls of Tannyhill.

"Murderers!" Kiara shouts, causing me to glance down at the ground, unable to bear looking at them both.

"I'm gonna fucking say something," Rafe mutters through gritted teeth, clenching his fists.

"Just leave it," I sigh, knowing that Pope will promptly talk some sense into Kiara.

"Are you siding with them now, Sid?" Rafe glances at me.

"No," I reply, placing my hands over his and unclenching them, "They're just not worth your energy."

"I know," Rafe mutters, pulling away from me, "I'm going out."

"Where?" I call after him as he disappears into the house.

"I'll see you later." He mumbles, walking out the bedroom and leaving me alone in the bedroom.

And just like that he's shut me out again.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Once Rafe had left, I got changed into some loose blue jeans and a cropped yellow vest, feeling more like myself than I did in those restrictive funeral clothes. I said a quick goodbye to Wheezie and got my bike from the garage, riding it towards the country club.

I arrive at the country club to see my parents already waiting for me beside their car, still wearing their usual surf shop attire.

"Hey honey," Mum smiles as I rest my bike on the bike rack, "How are you?"

"Good," I nod, "It was a lovely service this morning."

"Oh, I can imagine it must've been packed!" She exclaims as the three of us make our way into the country club.

"Hello," A member of staff smiles at us, "How can I help you today?"

"We've got a reservation at the bar, it'll be under Monroe." Dad tells him as he checks his clipboard.

"Right this way," He smiles, leading us out to the bar area which is on the decking, various tables dotted around the bar.

As we make our way to the table I spot Topper, who I've seen in passing, but I've not spoken to since Sarah and John B disappeared. I can't imagine that he's taking it well, because I'm pretty sure he's still in love with Sarah.

People definitely recognise me as a former friend of the pogues, because every time we pass a table I spot these strangers looking at me. They aren't subtle either, a woman mutters to her friend, "She must've known John B was violent," and another says "I can't believe he'd kidnap Sarah Cameron."

Every fibre of my being wants to scream at them, and tell them that John B would never have done something like that without reason. I also believe that he wouldn't kidnap Sarah, she loves him, and these people know nothing about any of us.

We make our way to the other side of the bar, and I spot JJ wearing the club uniform, waiting on tables with a jug of water. He looks the same, except the spark that once existed in his smile is gone. I miss him, of course I miss all my friends, but losing him hurts the most, he was one of the only people who truly understood me, regardless of my mood and I never thought I'd lose him.
"This is your table, I'll send your server over to take your drinks order." The other staff member smiles before making his way back to the bar.

My heart begins to race and my hands start to tremble at the thought of JJ being the person to serve us. I wouldn't want to put him in that kind of position, having to play polite while serving me and my parents.

As we sit down a girl who's probably a similar age to me walks over to us, wearing the country club uniform, "Hello, I'm Sofia, I'll be your waitress today, can I take your drinks order?"

"I'll have a mojito," Mum smiles at her.

"Just an orange juice." Dad adds.

"I'll have a Jack Daniels and coke." I tell her.

"Sid, maybe you should have something else." Mum glances at me.

"Alright then, I'll have vodka and cranberry juice." I smirk, knowing that my mum meant something non-alcoholic, but there's no way I can get through being sat here without alcohol.

"Great, I'll bring those over." Sofia smiles, leaving us and heading back to the bar.

My mum glances at me with a concerned expression, "Honey, are you alright?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I ask her, bouncing my knees anxiously under the table.

"You just seem different." She sighs, glancing at me with that solemn look that parents always have when they think you're struggling.

"I'm fine and I'm happy," I assure her, knowing that I'm far from fine, and any sense of happiness that I demonstrate is fuelled by the cocaine in my system.

"You'd tell us if you weren't, wouldn't you?" Dad adds, finally making a contribution to the conversation.

"Sure," I nod, adamant that they'd have some sort of breakdown if they knew that the only thing keeping me afloat is drugs.

It's similar to a swan, the way that above water they look so elegant and graceful. But under the water their flippers are moving at an insane speed just to keep moving.

"Your drinks." Sofia smiles as she returns to the table with a tray, placing each drink on the table. I take a quick gulp of mine, feeling the bitterly sweet drink run down my throat, the burn of the vodka is almost relieving.

"Afternoon everyone, I've got a little announcement to make!" I look across the room to see JJ standing beside Topper and Kelce's table, tapping a spoon against the side of a glass to get the room's attention.

"I'm incredibly sorry to disturb your afternoon, but there's just something I need to make clear," He begins to explain, wandering around his side of the bar, "My best friend John B didn't shoot Sheriff Peterkin."

"So who was it?" Kelce scoffs.

"Rafe Cameron shot and killed the sheriff, and his girlfriend knows all about it," JJ exclaims, gesturing at me across the bar, "you can ask her, but she won't tell you the truth."

My heart violently rips into a thousand tiny pieces at his words. Partly because he's accusing the man I love of something as horrendous as murder, which isn't a new accusation from my once friends. But what hurts the most is that I'm watching the one person I never imagined losing slip through my fingers, and there's nothing I can do about it.

"So it's always the kook's fault, is it?" Kelce asks, standing up from his chair and approaching JJ.
In a moment of anger, JJ grabs the water jug from the table and pours the contents over Kelce, causing the bar to erupt in a wave of gasps.

"I can't do this." I mutter to my parents, standing up and walking towards the bathroom, having to pass JJ, Kelce and Topper on my way.

"Go on, walk away," JJ shouts at me as I walk towards the bathroom, "Get your scary boyfriend to come and sort me out, like you always do."

As I reach the bathroom, I slam the door shut, resting my body weight against it as anxiety and devastation ripple through my body. Tears fall from my eyes as my hands continue to tremble and the images of Peterkin's dead body rush through my brain. I know I should try and calm myself down with slow breathing or by drinking a glass of water. But there's only one way that the screaming inside my head will stop.

I hate myself for it, but I pull the tiny plastic bag of fine white powder out of my pocket, my hands shaking as I tip the contents onto the countertop beside the sink. I use one of the country club business cards to line it up, my hands trembling as I try to focus.

I press down on one side of my nose, leaning down and inhaling the powder, feeling the calmness wash over my body as it begins working its way through my body.

I know I shouldn't do it, and it's only ever going to be a temporary fix, but talking or thinking about what happened is far too painful.

And if it's good enough for the devil, then it's good enough for me.

As I stand back up straight, wiping my nose with my hand, the door behind me opens ever so slightly, and in the mirror I see Topper tentatively poking his head around the door.
"I think you're in the wrong bathroom," I sigh, turning to face him.

"I just wanted to check that you're okay," He smiles awkwardly, and given the nature of our previous encounters I'm surprised he's actually bothered.

"Yeah, I just needed to use the bathroom," I lie as he steps closer to me.

"No one would judge you for being upset by what JJ said." He assures me as he stands beside me.
"I'm fine," I reply, folding my arms across my chest, "His words don't hurt me."

Lies.

"What's that?" Topper asks, glancing at the sink behind me.

"What's what?" I reply, rolling my eyes at him.
He picks something up from the sink and as he holds it in front of me I quickly realise that it's the small plastic bag that I just emptied.

"Is Rafe giving you drugs?" He asks, inspecting the empty bag.

"What? No!" I exclaim, "He doesn't know."
"He doesn't know?" Topper scoffs, "You're snorting coke and he doesn't know."

"And I'd like to keep it that way." I tell him sincerely.

"Why are you doing it to yourself?" He asks innocently.

"It's not for fun that's for sure," I try to make light of the situation as my hands stop trembling thanks to the cocaine.

"Sidney, you know drugs will screw you up, right?" Topper asks like I'm stupid, like I would be doing this if I had another option.

"You think I don't know that?" I laugh, "You think I like lying to Rafe? Pretending I'm dosed up on happy pills when I'm actually doing lines of cocaine whenever he's not looking."

"So why are you doing coke?" He asks, "And why won't you tell him?"

"I'm doing the coke because it's the only way to switch my brain off, it's the only way to stop these thoughts whizzing around inside my head," I explain, unsure of why I'm telling Topper of all people about my drug dependency, "The doctor said I have PTSD."

"Does Rafe know this?" Topper asks.

"He did, but he thinks I'm fine now." I explain.

"You should tell him."

"And listen to him blame it all on the pogues?" I hiss, knowing that Rafe would somehow find a way to make this JJ, Pope and Kiara's fault.

"It's not fair on either of you," Topper sighs, and deep down I know he's right.

"I know," I exhale, "But telling him will only tear us further apart."