chapter twenty-two
bite the hand that feeds

$$

Drowning is a silent death.

It isn't like in the movies. There's no thrashing around, desperately clawing at the air to pull yourself out of the water. There's no yelling. It's silent as you sink below the surface of the water, holding your breath while trying not to let any water seep past your sealed lips. It's called voluntary apnea. It's the instinct to not breathe underwater, and it's so strong that it overcomes the agony of running out of air. It's only more painful from there. It's a silent fight as the body blocks its airways, slowly suffocating you until the lack of oxygen leads to unconsciousness and you take an involuntary breath in. That's the breaking point.

Survivors say it burns like lava as you become unconscious and the airways relax, allowing your lungs to fill with water. The water burns so much it feels like lava, and it's not a lovely way to burn, it's lonely and horrifying. And the pain doesn't stop until the last second before you blackout. It keeps going until your body just accepts it and the world fades to black. That's when it's peaceful—at the last second as you're floating through a dark abyss.

Drowning is a silent death, and it only takes eighty-seven seconds to reach the breaking point before death consumes the body. That's all it takes. And Izzy Windsor had done well to remember that. Because truthfully, she had felt like she had been drowning all her life. She took life eighty-seven seconds at a time. She was always in a constant state of dying, and it wasn't peaceful like she'd hoped. It was painful up until the very last second, and then she felt like she could finally breathe . . . until the timer restarted and suddenly, she was drowning again.

But she had noticed she didn't feel like she was sinking into oblivion when she was around the Pogues. They made her feel like she could finally breathe. She realized they were the hands reaching for her body, saving her from the tidal waves which pulled her in. She knew, in a way, she had saved herself . . . but she wouldn't have realized she had a problem if they had never walked into her life. She supposed it was JJ Maybank who had started it all. He was the one person to never let go; the reason the eighty-seven seconds kept restarting. She wouldn't say he saved her, because really, she'd pulled her body from the depths of the ocean by herself, but . . . it was his hand she grabbed when she reached the surface.

Izzy knew she sounded like a total cliche, but she didn't care. She didn't know if it was a stupid thing called fate that had gotten her there today or even if this was the right path she was supposed to take. She wasn't even sure if everything happened for a reason, because, really what could be a good enough reason to take her mother from her at such a young age? But, whatever, for once, Izzy wasn't going to read into it (which was kind of hard since all she ever did was overanalyze).

So, Izzy decided, whatever. She had greater issues to overanalyze than trying to make sense of her own mind. And she'd woken up that day, wrapped in JJ Maybank's (her boyfriend . . . it still felt surreal to say) arms, with the motive to find John B before the sun died. She'd already texted Sarah multiple times, but the girl hadn't replied, which led the two blonde teens to cluelessly drive to the Chateau in hopes they'd stumble upon the Routledge boy so he could answer all their questions.

Spoiler alert: they'd found John B Routledge at the edge of the dock near his house. And when they found him, he was totally out of it. He was laying under the gazebo attached to the dock with his head propped up on a throw ring as he blankly stared at the ceiling of the gazebo. Kiara was there, too, silently sitting on the railing. And their silence only came with a reasoning which shocked the two blondes.

Almost as if their silence was a bad omen, John B revealed seconds later that Ward Cameron had found out about the gold under the Crain estate and gone to retrieve it all, leaving the group of teens with an empty well and heavy hearts. They'd lost, and they had nothing to show for it other than their solemn expressions and the feeling of defeat suffocating them.

Izzy didn't know what to do. None of them did. So they didn't do anything. They only sat in silence, listening to the sound of the water lapping against the dock as the minutes passed. It all just felt like a sick joke as they were forced to sit there with the knowledge that Ward Cameron was about to inherit four hundred million dollars and get away with the murder of another human being. It felt sick. It was sick, and Izzy couldn't shake the eerie feeling gnawing at her flesh as the silence rang in her ears while she continued to sit next to JJ on the ledge of the dock.

She wasn't sure what to think anymore. She was so tired of her mind jumping to conclusions. She just wanted Ward to pay for what he did and she wanted her friends to get the gold they'd found. Rich people were always scamming others out of money. Hell, she'd experienced it first hand. Her father had practically raised her to do the same, but she never had acted on it. William, however, had. God, it wasn't fair. Sometimes she wanted to set all the money in the world on fire, and watch it burn.

But, whatever, right? She was just a teenager and she couldn't do much. Maybe she could find a way to withdraw money from her father's bank account . . . you know . . . like the big bucks? And she would too, but she couldn't. It wasn't that easy. She wished it was though.

Izzy shook her head and averted her gaze to her outfit. She needed to get her mind off all this shit or else she was going to go insane, and fashion always had a way of numbing her thoughts. So, she glanced down at her outfit, relishing in her choice of clothes. She had decided to put on a denim crop top with a low-cut neckline and a zipper going down the middle, paired with a matching denim mini skirt, and combat boots. And she couldn't forget her makeup. She always made sure to do her eyeshadow to complement her outfits, and she of course, always put on lip gloss, but not lipstick, because really, Izzy wasn't too big of a fan. Lip gloss, on the other hand . . . Izzy adored.

To Izzy, lip gloss made an outfit. She always wore something on her lips. And she wore it for herself, because honestly, fuck societal standards. They had only ruined her and turned her into someone she wasn't. She liked lip gloss and she liked practicing eyeshadow looks, because it felt . . . good. She'd even stopped wearing foundation to cover her acne scars, because she was starting to like the way they looked. She was pretty, acne or not. And in a way, she thought her acne scars resembled constellations, which only made her cherish them more. And maybe that was the beauty in them. Maybe—

"What's this from?" JJ suddenly asked, picking up Izzy's hand.

His voice and the feeling of his hand slipping into hers, snapped the girl out of the cloud of lip glosses and handbags consuming her mind. She knew she could be materialistic, but whatever. "Huh?" she hummed as she blinked and glanced at her hand in his, noticing he was studying her bruised knuckles as he took a drag from his joint. She blinked again at the purple skin, and furrowed her brows as she tried to figure out how she had acquired those wounds. And then it clicked, and she sighed. "Oh, from when I punched Barry. Hurt like a bitch, but whatever."

The corners of JJ's lips twitched. "You punch a lot of people," he remarked as his thumb gently grazed over her bruised knuckles. "Kinda hot."

Izzy tore her hand out of his and fixed the rings on her fingers. "Correction, I punch a lot of people for you . . . minus Amelia," she stated, sharply. "Besides—"

But JJ cut her off. "Where is Amelia anyway? You punch her again?" he asked as he took a drag from his joint, holding the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds before he blew out a gray cloud. "Two nose jobs doesn't sound fun."

Izzy shook her head, waving her hand to dismiss his assumptions. "No, I think she's in Bermuda or something," she explained. "I don't know. I saw her post it on Insta. Something like a family vacation. Her dad's like friends with or maybe just knows . . . ? I don't know. He knows David Burt somehow so they go there during the summer."

"Sounds—" JJ rolled the joint between his fingers before he brought it to his lips and took a hit, then exhaled the smoke before he continued his thoughts— "privileged."

"No shit," Izzy scoffed. "But, whatever . . . back to my point. I've only punched three people . . . and I wouldn't say that's like a lot. You've hit a lot more people than that."

JJ raised his brows and turned to meet her gaze. "Three?" he asked. "That's like—" he held up his hand, counting off on his fingers— "one, two, three."

Izzy shot him a blank look. "Congratulations, Jesse, you can count," she muttered in a monotoned voice.

JJ laughed under his breath and seemed like he was about to respond, but he never got the chance. Kiara stopped the words from flowing past his lips before he could even blink. "Guys," the Carrera girl hissed, causing the two blondes to glance over to look at her. She only sent them a warning look and gestured toward John B, who was still blankly staring off into space.

The whole group had been tip-toeing around the reality they had found themselves in, which was no surprise, and nobody could really blame them. No one had dared to speak a word to the Routledge boy since he informed them of what had become of their little gold mission. But as the seconds ticked by, it seemed JJ had gathered enough courage to be the first to break the silence. He glanced at Izzy before he glanced back at John B and cleared his throat. "Uh, John, you all right?" he asked, hesitantly.

He received no answer. John B just kept staring off into space with his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed into slits. And while he wallowed in his grief, Izzy watched in silence, observing the rise and fall of his chest. She only knew a sliver of what he was going through. She knew what it was like to have a family member just be . . . gone. She knew and she knew losing the gold to the person who took his father from him must have been pushing him toward his breaking point.

Eighty-seven seconds, Izzy reminded herself. After that, you reach a breaking point and succumb to death. She wondered how fast John B's internal timer was ticking. How close was he to surpassing the eighty-seven mark?

"You sure he got everything?" Kiara asked before Izzy could hit her breaking point. Her voice snapped the Windsor girl out of her trance, causing her to glance over at the Carrera girl, then glance back at John B as anticipation consumed her senses.

"Every bar," John B finally muttered after a second. Maybe he hadn't completely turned into a ghost of himself just yet. "The whole enchilada." A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He breathed in through his nose, then breathed out in a huff. "Look, it's not like I expected a happy ending or some shit."

Izzy bit her lip. "We can always, like, scam my dad out of his money," she suggested. She didn't really know what to say. She just felt out of place, like a sore thumb.

John B shook his head, solemnly. "Yeah, good plan, Iz," he muttered, sarcastically. "It's . . . It's not about the money." He sighed once again and began tugging off the black cast on his arm. With a grunt, he tore it off and threw it aside.

A scoff left Kiara's lips. "John B—"

But John B cut her off, clearly irritated with her protests. "What, Kie?" he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut as he slapped his hand against the dock. "It's a hairline fracture. Who cares?"

"You should care," Kiara spat. "Your arm's gonna be messed up for life."

"It's fine," John B contradicted. "See?" He raised his hand in the air and wiggled his fingers to emphasize his point.

The silence resembled a tidal wave as it consumed the group, and suddenly Izzy felt as if she was drowning again. She just felt so lost. Nothing was adding up and it all just felt like a sick nightmare. She kept wondering when she was going to wake up to find that the summer hadn't even begun and all this was actually just a fever dream. But, whatever, she tried to ignore that as she picked up her phone that was resting beside her and checked her notifications. She saw a text message from her father, but she ignored that, and searched for a text from Sarah, but she didn't find anything of the sort.

"I texted Sarah earlier but she still hasn't answered," the Windsor girl said aloud, breaking the silence. She turned to John B, squinting at the boy. "You told her, right?"

John B blinked as his expression hardened . . . but his eyes stayed soft . . . and full of hurt. "She doesn't believe me," he mumbled, softly.

Izzy furrowed her brows as questions popped into her head and she began to wonder what had happened between the two and why Sarah wasn't picking up. Sarah's dead, her thoughts whispered in a menacing hiss. But Izzy couldn't believe that. That was just her fears talking. The reason Sarah wasn't answering had nothing to do with the possibility of her being dead. It couldn't.

"I'll go over to her house later, k? She'll listen to me," Izzy abruptly said before she could even think about what she was saying. She wasn't sure if she had said that because she was trying to comfort John B or because she was trying to ease her mind. Either way, she was going to go to see Sarah before the sun died for the moon and darkness consumed the island. She had to make sure the girl was safe.

But John B didn't seem as reassured. "Whatever," was all he spat as he slowly shook his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw as he breathed out through his nose. "It wasn't going to work out anyway. I was stupid to think a Pogue and a Kook could work."

As his words floated in the air, Izzy turned back to JJ, finding he was already staring at her with a solemn look on his face. I was stupid to think a Pogue and a Kook could work, John B's voice echoed in her brain, but Izzy was tired of listening to other people. So, instead, she listened to herself. Izzy listened to her own thoughts and offered her boyfriend a small smile before she leaned forward and kissed him. She pulled back a second later and stared up at him, finding he was staring back at her with a lazy half-smile on his face. Some lip gloss had transferred onto his lips, and when Izzy noticed, she laughed under her breath before she reached out and wiped the excess gloss from his lips.

"Guys!" a voice abruptly yelled, slicing through the air, and causing the group to turn to see who had called out to them.

When the group turned, they caught sight of Pope Heyward, running toward them with sweat drenching his dress shirt. Confusion struck the group, and Izzy began to wonder why he was sprinting toward them after he had just finished his scholarship interview. Had they gifted him the scholarship on the spot or something? Izzy wondered as she watched the Heyward boy step onto the dock.

Pope abruptly halted before them, immediately bending over with his hands on his knees as he desperately tried to catch his breath. "Oh, God. I ran all the way here," he heaved out, shaking his head slightly.

"You all right?" Kiara asked as she furrowed her brows. It seemed she was still a little tense about the night before and what he had said to her, but Izzy knew the girl knew he was right. It was clear by the look on her face that she just wanted to protect her friends . . . no . . . she wanted to protect the only people who had ever accepted her. But Izzy knew she'd never admit that. She was too damn stubborn.

JJ trailed his gaze over the Heyward boy. "How was the interview, Pope?" he asked as he took another drag from his joint.

Pope waved him off. "Don't ask," he muttered through gasps, trying to catch his breath.

John B gave him a thumbs up. "Awesome," he murmured before he turned his head, averting his gaze back to the ceiling of the gazebo.

Pope inhaled sharply one last time then stood straight, composing himself. "JB . . . look, I'm sorry, dude," he said, the tone of his voice proving his words to be true. "About everything."

John B shrugged. "It's fine."

"But—But I don't have a lot of time, and—and I have information that is tactically relevant," Pope informed as he repeatedly jabbed his hand in the air to emphasize his point. The others only looked at him, beckoning him to continue, and so, he did. "So before I had my interview, my dad said he was going down to the private airstrip to cut palms for Cameron's big plane. Because it was too heavy . . . it needed a longer landing strip to take off." He paused as he glanced at John B and nodded when the boy sat up with a look of recognition on his face. The Heyward boy then began to pace around the dock, glancing at the other teens. "So, I'm there sitting in my interview, thinking to myself, 'Hm. Why would Cameron need a longer airstrip to take off? What could be so heavy to weigh it down?'"

And then it clicked in Izzy's mind. "Oh, my God," she muttered in awe. Ward was going to take off with the gold, and they still had a chance to stop him. They had him right where they wanted him.

JJ glanced at Izzy with wide eyes, then averted his gaze to Pope. "Gold," he said, confirming the thoughts raiding each of the teens' minds.

Pope vigorously nodded as he shoved his finger at the blond boy. "Exactly!" he exclaimed. "Guys, this is our chance, but it leaves tonight, and we have to go."

Kiara jumped down from the railing with a wide smile on her face. "Guys, we can't give up now," she said. She turned to Izzy with the smile still on her face, provoking a grin to slide onto the Windsor girl's face as well. Maybe all hope wasn't lost.

JJ nodded his head in John B's direction. "What's the plan, big man?" he asked as he put out his joint and flicked it into the water. He was fighting a smirk, but he couldn't help but grin widely at the thought of getting back the gold.

John B laughed in shock. "We're gonna' steal that shit back," he affirmed, nodding his head at his words.

The group shared a look, mirroring each other's excitement. Izzy glanced at John B, realizing maybe everything would be uphill from there. She just needed to talk to Sarah and then hopefully everything would work out. But that was all Izzy could do. All she had was hope. That was what she wanted. It was what would truly save her in the end.

"Well, come on!" Pope exclaimed, waving the others over to get them to move from their spots.

JJ jumped down from the ledge and approached the Heyward boy. "Pope, you beautiful genius!" he shouted before he kissed the boy's cheek then took off down the dock with Kiara and Pope following after him. The three of them headed toward the Chateau, hooting and hollering as they ran. They were so wrapped up in the euphoria consuming them that they didn't bother to look back to realize they had left John B and Izzy at the gazebo.

Izzy tore her eyes from her friends who were quicking disappearing into the background, and instead, she turned to glance at John B. She observed how he had his hands shoved in the pockets of his shorts as he stared off into the distance. She gave a sigh and hopped off the ledge, then approached John B, standing beside him without saying a word. She didn't really know what to do. She wasn't good at comforting people. She never had been, but she knew what John B was going through and she knew what she would want to hear.

The Windsor girl nudged the boy with her elbow, earning his eyes on her. "Come on, Routledge—" she nodded her head in the direction of the Chateau— "let's go make your dad proud."

Something flashed in John B's eyes, and she could have sworn she saw his expression soften. He only blinked at her before he pursed his lips and sighed. "You think he would be?" he asked, his voice hesitant.

Izzy smiled. Like, she actually smiled, and as she smiled she decided he really wasn't that bad. He was just a boy who had lost his father. If anything . . . Izzy knew what he was going through more than anyone. She just got it, and that much was clear as they exchanged warm looks with smiles on their faces. "Yeah," she finally said, her voice soft for once. "Yeah, I do."

John B only smiled wider.

Izzy nodded her head toward the Chateau. "Come on," she said as she slowly backed up. When he began to follow after her, she took off down the dock, running to meet the others with John B trailing after her. And only then as the wind twirled in her blonde hair did Izzy Windsor decide this was what freedom felt like. It felt like hope.

────────────

          Hope blossomed in her chest as Izzy stared out the window of the van (which she still thought was ugly), watching as the world passed by her in a blur. She was tense against the cushioned seat, and she supposed she always would be anxious when she got in a vehicle she wasn't driving. There would always be a tiny voice in the back of her head, reminding her of the possibility that one of the wheels would pop or the engine would explode, resulting in their deaths. It was a side effect to the whole constant state of drowning, but it had numbed in her mind into just a whisper. And she ignored that whisper, mentally rolling her eyes at it, and focusing on what she could control. As far as she was concerned, the only pressing issue on her mind was how they were going to sneak past Ward and steal back the gold.

          While Izzy mentally thought out the plan, she could vaguely hear JJ suggest to just go in guns a-blazing and grab as much gold as they could. The others, of course, waved off his suggestion because it was just plain outrageous. But he did have a point, and he insisted on grabbing his gun before they headed over to stop the plane from taking off. He claimed if they showed up there with a gun in hand, it would be enough to threaten Ward into handing them the gold. Izzy wasn't too sure about this half-assed plan they had formulated in the past few minutes, but JJ already had his mind made up.

          The only problem: JJ had left his gun in his backpack which just so happened to be back at the Windsor estate. Which meant they were even more pressed for time. And all Izzy could think was 'Well, this is just great!' (sarcasm intended along with an eye roll, she would just like to stress).

          As the world continued to pass by, Izzy's internal timer began to tick faster as she began to overthink. Eighty-four. Her heart beat faster in her chest. Eighty-five. She couldn't breathe again. Eighty-six. Her eyesight had begun to fade to black. Eighty-seven. But then the van skidded to a halt before the Windsor estate, and she could breathe again. Hope blossomed in her chest once more as she stared up at her house, realizing this was it. There was still time.

          JJ reacted quicker than her. He slid open the back door and hopped out with Izzy trailing behind him. He briefly told the others they'd only be a minute, while Izzy took that time to push past him and walk up the steps leading to her front door. The front door was never locked, so Izzy swung it open, briefly glancing over her shoulder to see JJ jogging up the steps to meet her at the entrance. The two of them shared a look before Izzy stepped into her house, her combat boots thudding against the marble flooring.

          As soon as JJ stepped into the house, Izzy closed the door behind him and turned to meet his gaze. "Okay, where did you leave it?" she asked.

          JJ scratched the back of his head. "Uh, your room or—"

          But a different voice cut him off before he could answer. "Isadora?" the voice called out, slicing through the house and echoing off the walls.

          The person didn't even need to reveal themselves. Izzy already knew who had called her name. The voice belonged to the one person who was holding her back from letting go of all her bullshit. It was the same person who had made her believe she wouldn't have any worth unless she looked absolutely perfect. Unless she could pass as Barbie's clone; unless her skin was made of plastic and not flesh, then she would never amount to anything. She'd shed her hard exterior by now, but he, this person, was her connecting tether to her old life. Maybe the name Windsor didn't mean anything after all. Maybe it had always been his hand wrapped around her arm, keeping her from stepping outside of her cookie-cutter life.

          Then, as that drowning feeling revisited Izzy Windsor, he stepped out from the hallway and entered the main entrance. He stood before the two teenagers, dressed in his usual attire—a suit and tie paired with black leather shoes. Gray hair weaved in through the dark, showing his age, and it had spread to his groomed beard as well. Wrinkles creased around his blue eyes, making him appear older . . . and he did seem to have aged more since the last time Izzy saw him. She almost didn't believe he was actually there. But there he was standing before her in all his glory. He was none other than her father, William Windsor, her connecting tether.

          Izzy blinked; her eyelids felt heavy. "Dad?" she murmured under her breath, but it wasn't a question. She knew it was him. "You're . . . back."

          Her father glanced between her and the boy standing beside her. His gaze stayed on JJ Maybank, as too many emotions to decipher swirled in his eyes. "I just got in," he informed, his voice stern and hard.

          As soon as those words left his lips, Izzy realized the rest of her surroundings. She caught sight of some of the staff carrying suitcases up the stairs and roaming around the estate. Not a lot of the staff had been there that summer except when the big hurricane hit and William instructed them to clean up the estate. Or maybe she just hadn't been inside all that much since the summer. But, whatever, they were there now and it was because of her father. She blinked, and turned back to look at her father, but he wasn't looking at her, his eyes were still trained on JJ.

          JJ shifted uncomfortably under the older man's gaze for a few seconds before he cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Uh, Mr. Windsor," he said as he held out his hand toward him. "Nice seeing you again." He kept his hand outstretched, waiting for William to shake it, but he never did. And after a second, JJ realized that. "Okay—" he dropped his hand and stepped back— "not a shaker."

          William averted his gaze to his daughter and sighed as he assessed her outfit. He shook his head, but didn't make a comment, and instead, glanced back up to meet her gaze. "Ada informed me that you had a boy over last night. I can presume it was him, yeah?" he began, his voice curt. "Rose did say something about you hanging around Luke Maybank's boy, but I didn't want to believe it. He's the same one who pulled a gun at that party and the one who ruined Midsummers, isn't he?" He paused, glancing at JJ before he turned back to his daughter. "I guess I should have known. You always had a soft spot for the . . . help."

          That rubbed Izzy the wrong way. She didn't want to deal with him right now. She feared if she stuck around any longer, the wildfire burning within her chest would consume her and she'd do something stupid like punching her father in the face. (Not like he didn't deserve it but still.) And she didn't want to bruise her hand any more or break it on accident, so she glared at her father and fought against the flames licking her skin. "JJ, go find the bag," she bit out through gritted teeth. "We're leaving."

          JJ tucked a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear and kept his hand there. "You gonna' be okay?" he asked in a hushed voice. His eyes were boring into hers, and for a second she felt like she could breathe again, but it didn't last long.

          Izzy only nodded at his question, and then he was gone. He headed toward the staircase and jogged up the steps leading toward the second floor, leaving Izzy and her father alone. The air felt thicker without his presence. And with her father staring at her like he was trying to peel back her skull and find the answers to his questions, Izzy began to feel as though she was sinking again. Her throat constricted, making it harder to breathe, and she wondered if somehow the world would open up and swallow her whole.

          "I expect an explanation," her father muttered, breaking Izzy out of her mind.

          Izzy blinked. "He's my . . . boyfriend," she said with a shrug. The word felt warm on her tongue, and she almost smiled. But then she caught sight of her father's glare, and her heart sank once again. "And our friends are outside waiting for us so can we do this later?"

          Her father shook his head. "You're not going anywhere," he said in a gruff voice. He began to mess with the cuffs of his shirt, fixing them as he spoke. "Rose tells me—"

          Izzy rolled her eyes. "God, what doesn't she tell you?" she muttered under her breath as she crossed her arms over her chest, creating a barrier between her and her father.

          William halted in his actions. "What?"

          Izzy shrugged. "Nothing," she sighed, her voice full of defeat. She was reminded of all the times she had tried standing up to him. He'd only threatened to cut her credit card in two. And at the time, Izzy couldn't deal with that. At the time, she needed the money to fill the void in her chest. But what did that matter now?

          And as those questions filtered through her brain, something happened. She was reminded of the hole in her chest and then the twine was back. It wrapped around her heart, embedding into the aorta, but it felt different. It was the same twine that JJ held the other end to. This twine was the one that originated with her father and mother. It was the same string that had formed the hole in her heart; the string she had almost forgotten about. God, she just needed to get out of there before the twine sliced her heart in two.

          "As I was saying," William began, his voice snapping Izzy out of her trance. "Rose informed me that you still haven't apologized to the Camerons for your behavior at Midsummers." He fixed his tie with one hand while he ran his other through his slicked-back hair. "It's quite distasteful, honestly."

          Izzy squinted her eyes into slits. "Why? Because I don't want to apologize for speaking my mind?" she questioned before she could bite her tongue. She tried to stop herself from spilling the words on her mind, but it was no use. The blood in her veins felt like lava, burning her skin. She was a ticking time bomb. "Maybe they shouldn't be dickheads. Maybe they should stop treating people like pawns. Then, I'll apologize."

          Her father waved her off with his hand. "Enough of this."

          Eighty-five. Izzy was drowning again.

          "We're going over and you're going to apologize. And I expect you to apologize to Rafe, as well," he continued, his voice muffling in Izzy's ears as her head began to ache. "I can't believe you would be so careless as to ruin your future like this. Rafe was good for our family. With the Cameron name tied to ours, it would bring in Ward's clients. That would mean new clients, more money, yeah?"

          Eighty-six. Her head was about to explode. There was so much pressure. Her breaking point was close.

           "So come on, change into something less—" he averted his gaze to her outfit and gestured to the low-cut denim crop top— "revealing and we'll head over in a few."

          Eighty-seven. Izzy had had enough.

          She breathed in, but the burning sensation of water filling her lungs never came. The timer stopped and it didn't start again. It ended at eighty-seven, and she could finally breathe without that weight on her chest. She swallowed the lump in her throat and slowly met her father's gaze. "No," she spat, her words like kerosene in her veins.

          William furrowed his brows in confusion. "Isadora, what is this?"

          I need you to be better than me, her mother's voice filtered through her head, and Izzy nodded. She needed to do what her mother never could. She was tired of being another puppet in her father's play. She needed to be better. "I'm not apologizing," she bit out through gritted teeth. This was how she made her mother proud.

          Her father stared at her for a minute before he sighed. "Where is this coming from?" he asked. But he didn't let her answer. "Okay, how about this? If you apologize, I'll call my assistant and she'll book a flight to Austria for you to make up for having to spend the summer here. Will that cease this nonsense?"

          Izzy shook her head. "I don't want to go to Austria."

          "London, then?" he suggested. He waved off his words a second later and sighed again. "It doesn't matter, Isadora, just pick a place and I'll get you a flight . . . but you have to promise to stop hanging around these . . . people. It's just not a good look for my company for my daughter to be associated with people from the Southside."

          A scoff left Izzy's lips. "Why do you talk about them like that?" she questioned, bitterly. "Just because they don't have hundreds on their credit cards doesn't mean they don't work just as hard or probably even harder than you." She shook her head. "And . . . and they have names, you know? They're human beings, so like treat them like they are."

          Her father crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring his daughter's stance. "I don't know what to say to you. What else do you want from me?"

          "I want you to be my fucking father!" Izzy yelled, her voice slicing through the room and causing silence to fall upon them. Even some of the lingering staff halted in their actions, slowly eyeing the two Windsors before they quietly left the entrance hall. But Izzy didn't pay them any mind. Tears welled in her eyes, but she ignored them and kept her gaze on her father.

          "Why is it always something with you?" her father scoffed, throwing up his hands. "You get this from your mother, you know? You two always have to pick fights. It's never enough—"

          But Izzy cut him off. "Ward killed John B's dad," she said, her voice curt. "Did you know?" She couldn't help but let her mind speak for her. She just needed to know if the Windsor name was just as blood-stained as the Cameron's. "You and Ward are awfully chummy so, like, are you a fucking murderer?"

          William's brows rose high on his forehead. "Accusing people of murder now, are you?" he rhetorically asked. But he didn't let her respond before he continued. "This is insane. You really think Ward is a murderer, Isadora? And me, as well? Is that what you think of me?"

          Izzy shrugged. "Well, you're a fucking cheater . . . so it doesn't seem too out there."

          "Isadora!"

          Only then did Izzy realize why she hated her full name. It wasn't because it made her sound like some ancient old bitch on her death bed . . . it was because of him. That only made her anger grow. "Well, I'm not wrong, am I?" she spat under her breath. "You and I both know I'm right. You cheated on mom more times than you can probably remember. You broke her. She died like that, too." A tear spilled down her cheek. She didn't wipe it away. "Actually . . . she died long before that fucking car hit her and it was because of you. Sure . . . I called her to pick me up and that's on me, but you ruined her until there was nothing left. She's dead because of you."

          "It's always my fault, isn't it?"

          As her tears fell down her cheeks, a voice whispered in her ear. Pretty girls don't cry. Izzy clenched her jaw and shook that thought from her mind. It didn't matter what she was told from a young age, crying didn't make her weak. It made her human. "Do you think I don't remember?" she questioned. "I remember everything, dad."

          Her father stayed silent. He just stared at her with an unreadable look in his eyes.

          So Izzy continued. "You guys would be at each other's throats for hours, yelling about the same shit over and over again because you couldn't keep your dick in your pants." Her tears had begun to spill down her chin, and that time she brought her hand up to catch them before they trickled down her neck. "There were nights where your yelling would wake me up. A lot of the time, it'd happen on school nights. I'd stay up until like five in the morning listening to you two scream at each other then I'd have to go to school and have to pretend I didn't hear anything."

          William still didn't say anything. He just kept staring at her in disbelief.

          Izzy took that as a sign to continue. She needed to get this weight off her chest and this was the only way she knew how. "And the times when you guys would throw shit around. You know who cleaned up all that broken glass?" she asked, slowly. "When you weren't paying off the staff to do it, I was the one cleaning that shit up! Because . . . I didn't want anyone knowing mommy and daddy were having . . . issues."

          "Parents fight," was all he said. "I'm sorry you're remembering it that way but—"

          "One time I got a piece of glass stuck in my hand while cleaning up after you guys," Izzy went on, cutting him off before he could finish. "It hurt like a bitch. It was too deep to pull out . . . but I couldn't tell you guys, so I just kept it in there. I couldn't get it out for a good two weeks. You can imagine how annoying it was trying to write with a piece of fucking glass stuck in your hand." She scoffed and shook her head. "But I guess I'm just remembering all that wrong, right?"

          That time William Windsor didn't bother to open his mouth. He just stared, and all Izzy could think was 'how pathetic'.

          Izzy couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't funny or anything like that. She just couldn't believe this was her life; the life she had put up with for so long. "There were times when you'd leave because you just couldn't handle the heat I guess, and I would have to hold mom down so she wouldn't drive after you," she went on. "One time, things got physical between you guys, you know? You shoved her a little too hard and she fell. She smacked her head so hard on the ground, she bled. And you still left. While she was on the verge of passing out, you left her with me."

           "Is—"

          But Izzy was far from done. "I was thirteen!" she yelled, her voice cracking. "I couldn't drive her to the hospital because I was too young, so I had to sit there, hoping she wouldn't fucking die while you were watching porn in a fucking hotel room." A bitter laugh left her lips. "I guess I shouldn't have tried though, right? I mean . . . she died anyway."

          "The mind is very malleable at those ages. It's plausible you picked this up from a show or a movie you watched," he explained, slowly, thinking carefully about the words he spoke. "You were just a child."

          "No! You're not going to manipulate me into believing that bullshit!" Izzy cried. Her sobs wracked through her body, consuming her now. "I was just a child! You're right! I was a child who needed her fucking father, but you were never there for me." She breathed in shakily, choking on her tears. She was drowning again, and the twine wrapped around her heart wouldn't let up. "I needed you! You were my father and I needed you! Not your clients or your flings! Me! I needed you and you still left. You always left."

           William dared to open his mouth, but Izzy wasn't having it. She was too far gone to listen to his false claims. Her head was on the verge of exploding and the fire in her veins had begun to melt through her skin. But she didn't want to put out the flames just yet.

          "You left so many times, it all just blurs together, but there's this one time . . . where you left . . . and I can't seem to forget it," she continued. "You and mom were fighting as usual and you decided you couldn't handle it anymore so you packed your suitcase and headed for the front door. I . . . wanted you to stay, so I ran after you. I begged you to stay, and you . . . you turned to me and said that you never wanted to see either of us ever again. You said you didn't love me and all we did was make your life miserable . . . and then you left." Her sobs were uncontrollable now. She almost felt as if she were drowning in her own tears. "Granted, you came back the next day, acting like everything was perfectly fucking normal."

          William shook his head at his daughter's words. "I can't believe I'm even entertaining this," he muttered under his breath as he brought a hand up to comb through his beard. "All I have ever done was and is for you. I've provided for this family. I put a roof over your fucking head. I did that, Isadora. When will you get that I'm just looking out for you?"

          "No, no you're not. You're trying to control me like I'm one of your assistants," Izzy claimed, her voice weak. "You did it to mom, and now you're doing it to me. But I don't want that. I don't give a shit about what you want. I want what I want."

          "Look—" he put a hand up— "I get it. Teenage rebellion and—"

          "No, you don't get it," Izzy spat, cutting him off. "This isn't some coming of age bullshit indie film, this is my life . . . the one you've been trying to control since I was born . . . but I'm not your bourgeoisie pig, I'm your daughter."

          "How many times do I have to say that I'm doing this because I care?" William claimed, his voice raising an octave as he spoke. "I want you to have a good future."

           "You don't care . . . not about me," the Windsor girl corrected. "If you cared then you'd be here. And I don't mean checking in every few months. I'm saying you'd be here for me like a normal father. If you cared, you would have been there for me when mom died. You wouldn't have gone off to another one of your apparent business meetings the day after they put her in the fucking ground. But you weren't there, and you still aren't. And that's fucked."

          She swallowed the lump in her throat and sighed. Her eyes felt sore and her head was pounding, but she didn't stop. She opened her mouth to continue, but at that very moment, JJ began to step down the staircase with his backpack in hand and a concerned look on his face. His eyes seemed to ask her if she was okay, and she nodded to reassure him before she turned her attention back to her father. Her gaze hardened when she met his gaze again, and she was suddenly hyper-aware of the twine wrapped around her heart.

          Izzy blinked, ignoring how her eyelids felt heavy. She wet her lips and sighed. "You don't make people and then abandon them an—and then pick and choose when to care about them," she said slowly, her voice soft as she searched her father's eyes for understanding. "You don't fucking abandon your kids . . . they'll grow up thinking there's something wrong with them."

          But William didn't hear her. "This is ridiculous," he said, writing her off. "You're my daughter—"

           "I am your daughter," Izzy reiterated. "Sometimes I forget that but then I look in the mirror and all I see is you. I see mom, too. It's like a fucking curse. I look like mom. I know I do . . . but you're embedded in my brain like a fucking disease, reminding me I'm not good enough." She blinked away her tears. "Like a damn plague you are in every bit of me and I'm scared that one day I'm just going to snap and turn into you." The storm raging on inside her had calmed slightly. She only felt numb. "I used to want to be like mom, but now, I'm horrified about turning into either one of you. Because yeah, mom's dead, but you're a fucking cunt, and I don't know what's worse."

           "If your mother—"

           "My mother's dead," the blonde girl spat. "Mom ran a red light and got killed by some drunk-ass . . . and I've been doing the same shit. I drove drunk like an idiot. I could have died because of you and your fucked up narrative about me filling mom's shoes, but I didn't." She huffed out a sigh and glanced over her shoulder at JJ, who was standing behind her with a scowl written across his face as he glared at the older man. "I didn't crash into the poll because he—" she gestured to JJ— "was there. He and his . . . no . . . my friends stepped out in front of the car and I stopped. And I don't know if that was something that was meant to happen or whatever . . . I still stopped because they were there, not one of your quote-on-quote highly respected individuals."

          "This is exactly what I was worried about," William sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "I knew I should have come back sooner. Now you've gone off and associated yourself with people like him." He gestured to the blond boy, then glanced back at his daughter, and took a step toward her. "Need I remind you, his father stole from us. I know you want to believe he's different because you're a kid and kids do stupid stuff, but I can promise you this, Isadora, he is exactly like his father. He comes from nothing. You being with him would be making a mockery of everything we stand for." He released another sigh then set his jaw. "I know you don't want to hear this, but he's going to ruin your life, and that would break your mother if she were here. This isn't what she wanted for you."

          "Fuck you."

           "Isadora!"

          "Fuck you!" Izzy yelled. "You've been using mom against me to justify your fucked up views, but I'm not stupid. I'm not some brainwashed bitch that you can throw around. Mom wouldn't want this for me."

          Her father stared at her for a second, shock written across his face. And then, he began to laugh. It a small, almost inaudible laugh, but it still managed to slice through Izzy's brain and make her anger spread.

          Izzy furrowed her brows. "What? Why are you laughing?"

          "You're just so much like your mother," William explained. "Trust me, I knew your mom. I married her, Isadora. I know what she would want, and I can promise you . . . she wouldn't want this. She wouldn't want you to fool around with boys who have no future." His eyes snapped to JJ again as he gestured to the boy. "You know where he's from."

          Izzy glanced over her shoulder to look at her boyfriend. Her eyes softened when he met her gaze, and she almost smiled. "I don't care where he's from," she admitted, truthfully. "It doesn't fucking matter. He's better than you'll ever be." She turned back to face her father and glared at him. "And, you know what else, dad? I'm not mom. I'm not her. I will never be her. She'd dead. She's gone and she's never coming back, and that sucks. It hurts so much sometimes I can't breathe, but trying to be like her is not going to bring her back. Mom died . . . but I'm still here . . . and I won't make the same mistakes she made. I won't let you kill me, too." She pursed her lips and took a step toward the front door. "So I'm going with him, and you can't stop me."

          Her father slammed a fist down on the table beside him, causing all eyes to fall on him. "Walk out that door and you're cut off!" he yelled, his voice echoing off the walls of the front entrance. "You hear me, Isadora? If you leave with him, you don't get another cent. No, trust fund when you turn eighteen. No, nothing. You can go live on the damn Cut with them."

          His words echoed in her brain as she stared at him through her blurry vision. She wasn't afraid to cry anymore, and she let her tears fall, not even caring enough to wipe them away as they spilled down her cheeks. It was all just too much. But she wasn't really sad per se. She was more so concerned about the sinking feeling eating away at her heart and forming the hole once again. And then she realized she had almost forgotten she was ever born with that damn void. But that wasn't the part that got her. What had her mind spinning was the fact that she had forgotten the void ever existed in the first place . . . until she saw her father. She wondered how she could have forgotten.

          And then it clicked.

          The Pogues. Her friends had made her forget about the hole in her heart. They hadn't just filled the void, they'd helped her nurse it back to be whole again. When she was around people whose scarred hearts mirrored hers, the void was unrecognizable. They'd set her free. That was it.

          But they weren't there right now. Sure, JJ was standing behind her, but all Izzy could focus on was her father. It was just her father and her standing in the middle of their house . . . and the void was starting to return. And that was when she realized it had always been him. Maybe she was born with this void and maybe losing her mother had ripped at her heart, but it was her father who had made her into the hollow person she used to be.

          He was the reason she had to live eighty-seven seconds at a time. He was the cause of her pain and all the shit she had to deal with from the moment she was born. It had always been him, and he would always be haunting her, his voice whispering in her ear, telling her she wasn't good enough. He would always be there unless she dared to bite the hand that fed her and finally, fully chose herself and what she wanted. And she decided she would, because she had to. Her father was the final tether connecting her to her old life and holding her back, and she needed to cut that string before he ruined her like he had done to her mother.

          With that on her mind, Izzy Windsor stepped toward her father. "It was never really about the money," she muttered, her voice dark. "I just wanted you to be my dad. I wanted you to care about me." She knew there was only one way out of this. She had to bite the hand that fed her and chew it until it bled. And who knows . . . ? . . . maybe she'd enjoy watching it bleed. "Keep your money. I don't want anything to do with it."

          Izzy gave her father one last look, memorizing the shocked expression on his face before she shrugged and turned around, swinging the front door open and walking out with JJ trailing behind her. She heard the front door slam behind her just as she stepped off the last step. JJ jogged down the steps and caught up to her, walking in sync with her as they made it to the van in silence.

          He nudged her arm. "You okay?" he asked, hesitantly.

          Izzy nodded as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I think so," she muttered. And she wasn't lying. She didn't notice at first, but the twine had disintegrated into her heart and she could finally breathe again. But this was different. She felt lighter. There wasn't this impending weight pressing on her shoulders, taunting her and reminding her that she would always have this void inside of her. No, that was gone, and the void had gone with it. She'd cut the final tether.

          "Gotta' admit . . . that was badass," JJ remarked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him. Izzy felt her smile as she squeezed his forearm while he briefly kissed her hair.

          The two of them made it to the van, and immediately JJ swung open the back door and climbed in, placing his backpack down before he sat down on the floor. Izzy climbed in after him and sat down on the backseat, with a sigh. The others only watched them in silence as questioning looks crossed their faces.

          "Uh . . . what took you guys so long?" Pope asked, glancing between them.

           JJ shrugged and glanced at Izzy. "Nothin'," he muttered as he began to dig through his backpack, trying to collect all he would need to load his gun.

          "Um . . . okay . . . you two all right?" Kiara questioned with her eyes on Izzy. She tilted her head to the side and searched her friend's eyes with a caring look on her face.

          Izzy sighed. "I think I just got disowned," she informed. Her words made a brief silence fall upon the group, but then she laughed. "So, never better." She bit her lip and laughed once more as Kiara reached forward and held her hand. "Trust me, guys, it's fine. I don't even know how to explain it. I just feel . . . better." She glanced at all her friends with a smile on her face. "So let's go get our fuckin' gold."

          John B grinned at her words. "All right, let's get this show on the fucking road," he said as he turned back to face the steering wheel.

          Kiara laughed. "Full Kook, bitches!" she yelled, raising her hands in the air, which caused the others to join in.

          And as the van filled with their laughter, Izzy Windsor realized this was exactly where she wanted to be. There was no need to be anyone else but herself when she was with them. Then, she glanced to meet JJ's gaze, and this grin slid across her face. She realized she may have saved herself from drowning, but he was the hand that pulled her out of the water. It wasn't a simple school-girl crush. She didn't go around writing his name in her journals or posting him on her Instagram stories for the world to see. She simply lived with his face etched across her heart. She would have done anything for him.

a/n: this was the chapter that izzy needed to finally "let everything go" and i'm so proud of her. & ik not a lot happened in this chapter, but it's needed before everything goes to shit!

also i can't get over the fact that in my first draft of this fic i was going to name izzy dior.... like i do love the name, but dior windsor??? um anyways we don't talk about that.

also also this is what izzy was wearing 🙈

thanks for reading!