Fify. the cut that always bleeds
L. the cut that always bleeds
Without the help of Kiara, it was just the boys and Sarah. Bridger felt nervous about being on the Cameron's property after his encounter with Rafe, and even more now that he knew the truth, that Rafe only cared about himself. He didn't care about him. But now he had the cross, and all Bridger wanted to do was knock his lights out.
He stood outside the Cameron Estate with the others. Rafe parked the van in front of the home. "There he is."
"Stay low, stay low, stay low." JJ repeated and kept himself hidden behind the wall.
"How much you wanna bet Rafe had the cross inside that truck right now?" Pope asked with a bitter undertone.
"I'll bet you my house." Bridger answered and watched Rafe get out of the truck and go inside the house.
"There's only one way to find out." Sarah declared and began walking to the entrance of the gate.
They all turned their heads. John B quickly followed her. "Sarah!" He called her name.
Bridger watched them and he smirked. JJ and Pope thought differently. "We literally do not have time for this," Pope sighed.
"There's always time for love, my friend."
"Yeah, but like, right now?" Said JJ, scratching his ear.
"What's wrong with that?" The boyfriend asked and he wrapped his arm around him.
"Uh, nothing. Nothing at all."
Pope rolled his eyes at them.
Bridger looked over again and he saw Sarah and John B kissing and his eyes widened. "Ooh, that's my boy." He whispered happily. "And my girl."
John B walked back over to them with a huge grin.
"Hey! Do you want me to perform your vows while you're at it?" Pope whispered aggressively.
"Did you say "be safe"?"
"Christ, could you take any longer?"
"I did say be safe."
Bridger smiled and patted him on the back. "Proud of you, buddy."
John B smiled back. "Thanks."
"What's she doing?" Pope asked when he observed Sarah sneaking over to the truck.
She turned back to them and raised her arms. They waved at her to come back. She motioned inside the house. Bridger shook his head. "No, no, don't go inside!" He wanted to yell but he kept his voice quiet.
She went inside.
"I hate her so much."
"You said don't go inside the house!" JJ said to John B.
"I told her!"
"D-Do the bird call!" Said Pope.
"Wait, no, don't—"
John B poorly imitated the sound of a bird. Bridger slapped his hand over his forehead.
"That's not what a bird sounds like." Pope hissed quietly.
"Why am I here with you guys?" Bridger wondered out loud.
"Was that's dying chicken?" Said JJ.
"It's not—it's a whistle."
"Genuinely, why am I here right now? Okay, I'm going over there." He said again and started to walk to the entrance.
"What? Whoa, whoa, whoa, Bridge. What the hell are you doing?" JJ stopped him.
"I know this house like the back of my hand. I can find the truck keys." He explained.
"Bridger, that's a terrible idea." Pope whisper yelled.
He glared. "Then give me a good one."
"B, I'm not letting you go in there." JJ stood his ground.
"It's a good thing I don't listen to you." Bridger said casually and he smiled. He turned back around.
"Wait, stop!" The partner said and grabbed his arm.
He sighed. "JJ, look," he said and turned back around. "Just trust me, okay? If things go south, I'll just try and kill him." He said casually again.
JJ blinked. "Okay, usually I would like that idea cause it sounds like me, but, I don't like how that sounds."
"Just trust me," Bridger repeated. "And please don't do anything stupid."
He turned around again and walked off. "No promises!" He heard.
"Be careful, Bridge." He heard John B.
Bridger snuck into backyard and kept himself low. It was nearly pitch black and he wore a black Northface jacket, somewhat blending him into the night. "Alright Fitzgerald, don't fuck this up." He lectured himself very quietly.
JJ watched the back of his boyfriend's head with hard, worried eyes. "God, I hate how he's just like me." He mumbled.
"Welcome to the club." Pope muttered back.
Bridger ducked down behind a bush and kneeled eye level to the window. He looked inside the house but didn't see anybody, only the empty front room, until Sarah came running through. He flinched. "Jesus." Bridger got up and quickly went around the house again, seeing her exit the house. "Sarah!" He whispered.
Sarah jumped. "Bridger, what the hell are you doing?" She whispered yelled back.
"Making sure you don't get caught, dumbass. What's your plan here?"
She held up the truck keys. "I know Rafe's hiding something," she declared and walked to the back of the truck. "Wheezie told me that Rose says we're going on a trip."
Bridger raised his brows. "Trip? What kind of trip?"
"Not a good one I'm certain," Sarah mumbled and unlocked the back of the truck. When she opened the door, both of them gasped. "B-Bridger."
Seeing Renfield's dead body in the back of the truck, Bridger felt like he could vomit. "Oh, holy fuck." He slipped out and grabbed his hair.
Rafe suddenly appeared and grabbed a hold of Sarah chasing her to nearly scream.
Bridger immediately tried to pull her away from him. "Don't do this, Rafe. Let her go." He demanded, glaring at him harshly.
"You should have backed down when you had the chance, Bridger," Rafe spoke ominously.
Sarah screamed in fear when Rose came out from the other side of the truck. She hit Bridger again the head with end of a gun, knocking him out cold. "Bridger!" She cried out and struggled in her brother's hold. "Let me go! Let me go!"
"You deal with him. I'll take her." Rose demanded and grabbed Sarah from Rafe.
"No, no, let me go! Leave him alone!" She cried as Rose dragged her into the home and she watched Rafe crouched down beside her friend. "Get away from him! Bridger!"
Rafe eyed Bridger on the ground, bleeding seeming from his head where Rose hit him. His jaw clenched as well as his fists and he almost screamed. There was side of Rafe that hated him, hated him for betraying what they had to be with the Pogues. It was like he completely forgot what they had, what they'd do for each other. But the other part of him was hesitant because Bridger was once his best friend, his brother, and he loved him more than he could ever love anybody in his family. Their pasts linked them together in a sickening way. Perhaps things had gone too far.
"Fuck!" Rafe cursed to himself and he punched the ground. "Why did you have to get fucking involved in this, B?"
There was a lot of things JJ never thought he'd do in his life and going on a very long journey of explaining the natural Viagra in flowers certainly wasn't one of them. Now that he was past it, he went back to worrying about his boyfriend. "Alright, let's go." He told the guys and they hopped over the wall.
As they rushed to the house, Rafe came outside and they halted.
"Get down! Get down!"
All three of them ducked behind some bushes. "Dude, where the hell is Bridger?" John B whispered, not seeing the boy anywhere.
"I don't know!" JJ whispered back, clearly worried.
They watched Rafe get into the truck and start it up. "He's got my cross," they heard Pope uttered angrily.
"Pope. Pope, what are you—"
"Pope!"
As the truck backed out of the driveway and started to leave, Pope sprinted and chased after it, jumping onto the back and holding on right.
JJ threw up his arms. "Oh, what the hell?"
"What do we do? Do we run inside?" John B asked in a panic. "They have our partners."
"I know, I know. Ugh." The blonde groaned and tugged at the roots of his hair. "What if we, uh. . .just run inside?"
John B narrowed his eyes. "Really? Just run inside the house?" He repeated. "And do what, JJ?"
"I don't know, okay! I'm just spit balling!"
"Well stop spit balling, we have to get them back!"
JJ huffed and tugged on his hair again. He eyed the Cameron house, getting a horrible feeling in his stomach that Bridger was inside and he couldn't do anything about it.
When Bridger was eight-years-old, his mother took him to the beach to watch the sunset. It was her favorite spot. Sometimes they'd get there way before the sunset started and they'd stay hours after the sun had went down. Bridger's dad was usually out of the house or too messed up to even notice they were gone. He knew this even at a young age but Jana Fitzgerald wanted to give him the best nights that she could. She was his saving grace.
"This is our thing, B. Nobody can take it away from us," Jana said to him one night, Bridger between her legs, and the sky was a brilliant orange and pink like most sunsets in Kildare.
They sat in the same spot on the beach every night just before she died. Even when his parents divorced, they always went to the beach at sunset. Then his mother died and Bridger would still go to the beach and sit in their spot alone, a beer in his hand, and he'd watch the sunset and imagine his mother was with him.
Sometimes Bridger thought if he walked into the ocean and stayed there that there was a possibility he'd get to see his mother again. It was usually when he was drunk. Other times it was when he and his father just got into a fight and he was desperate to see his mother again. He missed her so much.
Bridger's sent the majority of his life in pain, the pain caused by different people, and even from himself. But the pain Rafe's caused him hurt him more than anything, even his own father, because Rafe was supposed to be his best friend. There was a time that Bridger thought they were mirrors of each other: shitty fathers, drug addictions, a desperate wanting to be loved — but things were different now. He went down one path of life. Rafe went down another. They were no longer brothers, just two people chasing after the Dane thing but willing to hurt each other to get it.
Bridger came to when he felt himself being jolted around. He groaned in pain when his head hit something hard. He had a terrible headache already. Bridger blinked but his surrounding were almost pitch black. He was confused at first but then he felt himself moving and a rocky bump, he realized that he was in the back of a truck, and then it all came back at once. "Help me!" Bridger yelled, his eyes going wide. "Rafe, what the hell? Someone help me!"
He remembered seeing Renfield's dead body in the back of the truck, something that freaked him out even more now that he realized he was stuck in the truck with a dead body, and then he remembered getting hit in the head before passing out. He figured it was Rose considering Wheezie wasn't tall enough to reach his head and she also had no idea what the hell was happening.
He started to panic. "Okay, okay, okay. Fuck, what the hell do I do?" Bridger said to himself, looking around him even though he couldn't see anything. "Jesus fuck, what do I do?" He said louder.
Think like a Pogue, Bridger. Think like a Pogue.
"Okay," Bridger whispered and he got to thinking. Refield was dead. Rafe had him in the back of the truck. It obviously meant he was going to dump him somewhere. Rafe also put him in the back of the truck, meaning. . . It hurt his heart and mind to even think about. "Okay, you can do this Fitzgerald."
With a heavy heart, Rafe opened the back of the truck, and he looked between the body rolled up in a carpet and Bridger, whom wasn't dead. The thoughts in his head ran crazy, blurring his vision, but Rafe kept his focus on what was at hand. He dragged Renfield's body out first.
Inside the truck, Bridger kept his eyes closed but he could hear Rafe grunting as he dragged the dead body out of the truck. He didn't dare move. He heard thumping and dragging against the rocks. Then, he opened his eyes and Bridger's breathing hitched when he heard the heavy splashing of water and the first thing he thought was that Rafe threw Renfield's body into the water, which made him think they were on Goat Island. It became official. Rafe was going to kill him.
But then he started to hear fighting. Bridger tore his eyes away from the roof the truck and he sat up swiftly. He scrambled to the back of the truck and peeked behind the open door, his eyes widening when he saw Rafe and Pope fighting in the water.
They were indeed on Goat Island and Bridger thought about how the water they were on was infested with alligators and he really didn't want to become another John B, but Pope was his friend. Immediately, he jumped out the back of the truck, his head still hurting, and he sprinted toward the water just as Rafe was about to drown Pope.
Bridger grabbed a hold of the back of his overcoat and he yanked him backwards, causing Rafe to stumble back. He spun around and looked stunned at the sight of him. "Bridger, you're—"
"Not dead?" He finished, appearing angry. "No, you knew that and you were going to kill me anyway!" Bridger yelled and punched him in the face.
Rafe fell back into the water. At the same time, Pope brought himself back up and his eyes widened. "Bridger?" He gasped.
"You think I wanted this?" Rafe said, gathering himself back up, his nose bleeding. "You think I wanted you involved in any of this?"
"Yeah, I do, because you're selfish. You only care about yourself. You never cared about me. I was just a pawn in whatever game your fucked up family's trying to play!" Bridger yelled again and the two of them basically started wrestling in the water.
The older boy wrapped his arm around his neck and yanked him backwards into a chokehold. "Why couldn't you just stay put of it?"
Bridger lodged his elbow into his stomach and Rafe released him. Pope came in and wrapped his around his neck, yanking him backwards into the water. "Because you're not just hurting me. You're hurting my friends!" He huffed and trudged through the water. Rafe was standing over Pope and Bridger came in, shielding him with his body, and he stood there glaring at him. Rafe's nose was bleeding like Bridger's head was bleeding, they both drew blood but their cuts weren't equal. They never were. "I'm tired of trying to convince you that you're a good person, Rafe, because you're not. You're just like your father." He watched Rafe's face change. "I should've realized it long ago but I was just a kid. But I know better know. So go do whatever you're planning to do. Ruin my life, ruin Sarah's life, but realize it's not just our lives that you're ruining. You're ruining Wheezie's life, too. You're ruining your own life and you don't have me to pick you back up anymore. So go."
There was a silence, Pope's heavy breathing mixing with the cicadas all around them being the only noise. Rafe stood there tall, glaring harshly, but he didn't speak. He couldn't. Bridger stood there with the same look, his eyes saying everything. "You're dead to me," he whispered.
Slowly, Rafe blinked and his face changed again. His eyes cut to Pope before he turned around and trudged through the water to go back to the truck. Bridger watched him close the back doors and go around to the front. He huffed and turned around, stumbling back when Pope's body collided with his. "Bridger, holy shit!" He exclaimed while hugging him tightly. "Dude, what the hell happened?"
Bridger patted him on the back. "Uhh, Rose hit me over the head and knocked me out and, uh. . .Rafe was going to try and kill me."
Pope pulled away from him and scanned his face. "Are you alright?"
"Uhhh. . .not really, but, it doesn't matter right now." He whispered.
"Why are you whispering?"
"Cause I'm trying not to wake the gators," said Bridger and he looked around the water they were still standing in. "Which reminds me, I really think we should get out of here."
"Right, right." Pope quickly agreed and the two of them slugged through the water. That were both dirty and bleeding and with Rafe gone, they were all alone.
"You, uh, don't have a plan, do you?" Bridger asked him, sitting on the ground, feeling exhausted all of a sudden.
"I have one," Pope answered and he took out of phone, immediately texting Kiara.
Dylan and Bridger 🤝🏼 almost getting killed by the Cameron family
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