just a quick psa, the face claim for sidney has changed, this is her face claim now:
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I always used to think I was a decent judge of character, good is good, and bad is bad. But it's never that easy, I was just naive to think that it could be so simple. Because what happens when the lines blur? What happens when people do something bad, convincing themselves that they're doing a good deed?
So if a person does a wicked thing, does that make them wicked? I suppose I've been asking that question about myself ever since the rose tinted glasses I've been wearing fell off and smashed into oblivion.
Hearing John B and Sarah tell me exactly what happened on the tarmac was heartbreaking and painstaking all at once. They assured me that they don't blame me for believing Rafe, explaining that Pope has been very vocal about the possible effects of my PTSD.
That doesn't mean I don't hate myself for ruining John B's life. I resent myself for believing Rafe, I despise his ability to get under my skin, and worse than all of that, I hate that I still love him.
It's been three days since I realised the devastating truth, and on the second day John B was arrested. Again, the minute I heard the news I felt riddled with guilt, blaming myself for not defending him sooner, wishing I could undo everything that's happened in the last month.
Rafe called, he called a lot, but I didn't answer. I have nothing to say to him, not when I'm doing lines of coke just to remain emotionally numb. The pogues don't have a clue about the drugs, they know I'm struggling, and I've not seen any of them since they told me everything.
Although he might know that I'm angry at him, Rafe doesn't have a clue how much I know about what he's done. So as my family and I approach the courthouse, preparing to hear the plea for John B's arrest, I lay safe in the knowledge of the text conversation I had with Kiara last night.
For this to work, and to keep my friends safe, Rafe needs to believe that they still hate me. So we've agreed minimal interactions at the courthouse, to preserve the illusion that I know nothing about Rafe's involvement in Peterkin's death.
As expected, a lot of people from the island have turned up to hear today's verdict. None of them actually care about John B, I doubt many of them care about justice for the Sheriff, they just love something to gossip about.
My sister and I walk hand in hand, our parents close behind as we file into the courtroom. The area for guests, or in this case, spectators, is split into two with an aisle down the middle. On the left I see JJ, Pope, Kie and Sarah sitting together, and on the right, Rafe is sitting with Ward and Rose. I'm just looking at the back of all these people's heads, so none of them know I'm here. But when my Dad drags us to the right, sitting two rows behind the Camerons, I feel a sick void inside my stomach.
Maggie squeezes my hand, letting me sit on the end of the row in case it all gets too much, "You're fine," Her words don't fill me with much reassurance as I stare at the back of Rafe's head, hoping that all of this would just disappear. Maggie knows everything now, even though John B and Sarah already told her, everyone agreed that due to my PTSD it would be best for me to work out the truth about Rafe myself.
