Rafe Cameron was a storm, and you were caught in the middle of it. From the moment you met him, you saw the brokenness, the pain he couldn’t escape. You told yourself you could save him, fix him, but as time passed, you began to realize you were losing yourself.

He’d pull you close, make you feel like you were his everything, and then tear it all down with one harsh word. His anger and addiction consumed him, and nothing you did ever seemed to make a difference.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he snapped one night, eyes red and hollow. “You think you can fix me?”

“I just want to help,” you said, your voice trembling.

He laughed bitterly, stepping closer, his breath heavy with alcohol. “I don’t need help. I don’t need you.”

The sting of his words didn’t fade. You couldn’t help but wonder if he believed them. If he truly thought he was beyond saving. But no matter how much he pushed you away, no matter how many times he hurt you, you stayed. You couldn’t stop. He was a force, and you were swept up in it, trying to hold on to the pieces of him you knew were still there.

“I’m here for you,” you whispered, though doubt was creeping in.

He only shook his head, frustration written across his face. “You’re wasting your time. I don’t deserve your love.”

The words stung, and you knew they were true, yet you couldn’t leave. You stayed, hoping that the next time he pulled you close, it would be different. But it never was. It never would be.

In the end, you realized you weren’t just trying to save him—you were trying to save yourself from the wreckage he left behind. But you couldn’t. Because in this toxic dance, you were both drowning.