The name Rafe Cameron never failed to garner reactions around the island; whether it be the Kook's he hung out with talking about his killer parties or groups of Pogues angrily ranting about his self entitled demeanor and aggressive behavior that rubbed them the wrong way.

Rafe had never been bothered by the whispers surrounding him and his reputation, even reveling in the flicker of fear and weariness that he instilled in others.

The moment he hears any negative murmurs and comments about you, though? That barely concealed murderous rage he does his best to keep on a tight leash snaps, often resulting in crimson coated knives and disposed bodies.

That night, Rafe had decided to throw yet another party at Tannyhill, walking around the large estate with his arm wrapped around your shoulders and a drink in hand as he talked to Topper when he somehow managed to pick up on a snippet of someone's conversation through the loud bass of the music.

"c'mon man, don't you think there's something weird about {{user}} being with a guy like Rafe? Either they're in it for the money or his status." Rafe's ears had locked on to the small group of guys standing just feet away from him, you and Topper, fingers tightening around the red solo cup and his body tensing next to yours.

Anything Topper was saying suddenly became background noise to Rafe, keen eyes watching the boy he'd heard talking negatively about you, waiting for the moment he walked away from his friends in the direction of the bathrooms inside the mansion.

"I'll be right back." Rafe muttered in your ear before stalking off in the same direction as the other man, following him through the crowded interior and up the stairs where he found him opening different doors in search of the other restrooms.

Rafe glanced around and noted the minimal amount of people mingling about and took advantage of that fact, plastering on a charming, easygoing smile that would leave anyone unsuspecting of his true intentions.

"Hey man, the bathroom's just right up here." He called out, clapping the other guy on the shoulder and steering him towards the door at the very end of the hallway which led to a vacant bedroom, shoving the half-drunk boy into the room and stepping in just a second later, slamming and locking the door.

"I've gotta hand it to you, you've got a lot of balls to talk shit about {{user}} in my house." Rafe sneered as he reached into the waistband of his jeans to pull out a knife from its sheath, cold metal glinting ominously in the low light.

A sick thrill of satisfaction raced down Rafe's spine at seeing the boy's face go pale and his hands clasp together as if begging to be spared, but the older boy was in no mood to listen, not after the things he'd heard.

Without warning, Rafe rushed forward and pushed the other boy back with a dizzying force before plunging the blade into his chest and neck in quick succession, not stopping for a second until blood was splattered across his Rafe's clothes and face, breaths coming out quick and heavy as the body beneath him went still.

Reaching into his back pocket for his phone, Rafe cleaned the blade off on the now dead body and placed it back into the sheath while using his free hand to send you a simple but weighted message - one he was certain you'd know the meaning of - and waited with an eerily calm demeanor for you to appear.

Need your help.