~.🐚.''.🥥.''~❀˖ °⋆

                         A BAG OF ICE SITS AGAINST BAILEY'S BRUISING KNUCKLES AS WE arrive back at the house. Consumed by wrath the whole ride home, my own knuckles ache from clutching and unclutching. Kie sends the occasional glare to her girlfriend as John B stops the Twinkie.

                              "Just every time, like, every single time we see them, something goes wrong!" Kie roars, helping Bailey out of the van. We all slip out, processing what the fuck happened to our nice beach day. "It's Kook protocol to fuck things up," I mutter as my feet guide me towards the door. I just want to lay down, think about how the hell I'm gonna deal with Weston. Every second of break I get, I spend it wondering what the hell he wants.

                  "We can't do anything without them getting triggered!" Kie adds. "They all think they're too good for therapy," Bailey comments. She moves the ice and dried blood shows its self between the skin of her knuckles. JJ's hands sling around my waist, head buried in the crook of my neck, "Eh, Topper was scared. He always is. That inflated ego of his will never admit it though." We chuckle as Pope approaches us. A smile beams across my face at the sight of him, "You and Cleo use the day to your advantage?" He gets closer and I notice the thousand mile stare he's giving us, the helpless I need help look, the blood on his hand. I pause, "Pope?" I call out wearily.

                              The birds caw above us but the other Pogues notice Pope's frame and the look of horror crawling into his bones. "How'd it go?" JJ asks but I feel his body tense around mine. The blood. The thing I haven't looked away from that's coating our best friend's hand.

      Cleo. Where the hell is Cleo?

                        "Pope?" JJ softly calls out. "Bud, your hand," Bailey whispers. "What is that?" Kie rushes over to him, "Is that blood? Who's blood is that?!" JJ grabs Pope's wrist as my stomach churns, heart racing. Don't let another one of our friends be dead, please. Please.

                  "Pope, what happened?" JJ asks in the calmest way he can, staring at Pope with concern. The Heyward boy doesn't reply, instead he stays silent, staring back into my boyfriend's blue eyes. JJ grabs his shoulders, shaking him, "Pope, what happened?!" He yells a bit louder this time. My hands fly to cover my ears as more and more panic settles over me. Sarah steps forward, "Where's Cleo?"

                               "She's....she's inside," Pope finally replies. My heart drops. Inside? Inside and alive or fucking dead? JJ and I get to the door first, pushing our way in. My whole body goes cold when I see a man laying on our living room floor, blood pooling around him. My breathing picks up, "Cleo?" I manage to squeak out. She sniffles and I snap my neck towards her. Despite the random man dead on our floor, relief washes over me to see her alive, even with a somber expression.

                                   "Oh, holy shit! Is he dead?" Bailey shouts. "Bailey!" John B scolds. He and Sarah have a look of familiarity across their faces. I glance between Cleo and the man and then the couple. They knew this man. Cleo knew him very well by the frozen state she's in. Sarah runs over to Cleo, comforting her but her eyes haven't left the body.

                   "Can someone please explain why there is a dead guy in our living room?!" JJ panics, pacing the room, "What the hell happened?!"

                             "JJ, stop—"

                           "Babe, there is a dead guy on the floor–"

                  "She knew him!" I yell, pointing at Cleo, "Right?" But Cleo doesn't react so I look towards John B who gives me a slow nod. The confirmation nearly makes throw up spill from my mouth. How many times am I gonna walk into someone dead in a room? It's getting quite ridiculous. "You knew him?" Kie questions softly. But Pope rushes out of the house and to the porch.

                      Without missing a beat, I follow him out as well as John B.  "Okay, Pope, what happened?" John B asks with a shaky breath. "He called me. He said I had till 4:00," Pope gulps, "I came as fast as I could. I got there, he had the gun in her face," Pope paces. I grab a towel from the table, gently taking his hands to wipe them down as he rambles at a high speed. "And Terrance, he....," Pope tries but the mention of the man makes him inhale and exhale sharply, "I wish I could've done something—"

                        I wipe the rest of the blood off, "It's not your fault, Pope." John B gently holds him, "Hey, hey, listen to me. Listen to me. You did all you could, bro." But Pope is anything but assured. His shoulders and hands tremble between us. I hold his forearm, "You're alright. Cleo is alright. You're okay, Pope," I coo. Another shaky breath leaves his lips.

                 "John B, let's get him water," I say before going inside to assess the scene before me. Terrance's dead body makes my eyes snap shut, forcing myself to look in JJ's direction. We're all surrounding Cleo, waiting for her to say anything but she's lost. Lost in the grief of a friend. Family maybe even.

                           Suddenly, JJ kicks off the wall, staring out the window behind me. A truck revs its engine outside. Topper? I spin around. No, worse, possibly. Shoupe.

                                "Oh my God," I yelp, "Oh, fuck!"

                                 "Oh, shit!" JJ curses as well, rushing to find Pope and John B. The four girls remain, exchanging worried looks. "Not to sound insensitive but there is a dead body on our floor and Shoupe just arrived," I speak fast, eyes locked on the police pickup truck. "Oh my God. Oh my God," Sarah repeats over and over.

                             "Why's he here? He's just sitting in his car!" Kie frantically asks. JJ bounces around the living room, staring out the windows. I force myself to look at Terrance. "We need to move him. Now!" I shriek. Bailey's head falls to her hands, "We didn't do this, right? So—"

               "You think Shoupe will believe that, Perez? Think!" JJ blurts out. Bailey furrows, "I'm thinking! I'm thinking about the murder we didn't commit currently sitting on our floor!" This is bad. Extremely, horribly, bad. "We have a dead body in our living room!" Pope whispers.

"I've been saying this!" I half yell. "Bailey is right, we tell the truth!" Kie says. Logically, yes but with a reputation that we have, definitely not. "Are you two kidding me?" JJ barks at her. "We did nothing wrong!" Kie chokes out.

                "Kie, we can't. He won't listen!" I remind her. "Someone broke into our house!" Kie yells. "Shoupe is not going to fucking believe us, Kie!" I yell back in frustration, trying to even my breathing but I'm spiralling. The blood pools around him like it did that night in Piper's house. What's left of this man's life is spilling out and onto our floor. "He attacked us and stole from us!" Kie yells louder. 'He won't believe us!" JJ repeats louder.

                              "What we need to do is leave! Banana split!" JJ snaps his fingers, grabbing my hand but I shimmy out of it. "Okay, that'll look worse if he walks into an empty house with a dead body, babe!" I tell him. No one is thinking clearly. I bite the skin off my fingers, wincing when blood spills from my thumb. "You have a better idea, sunshine?" JJ panics, trying so hard not to raise his voice, "Number one rule: never trust a cop, especially that one!" He points towards Shoupe.  My hands fly to my hair, pushing it back.

                  "We hide him," Bailey speaks up. Our fighteneed gazes dart towards each other. "What choice do we have?" I gulp.

                               "JJ? Anybody home?" Shoupe yells from behind the front door. "Fuck!" I curse, jumping up at the sound. "John B, what do you wanna do?" Sarah murmurs. "We did nothing wrong," Kie insists again. "That doesn't matter, babe. It's Shoupe!" Bailey tells Kie sternly. Three knocks at the door makes my body go pale. I'm standing over a dead body and there is a cop at the door. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

              "Okay," JJ grabs a dazed JB, "I need you to make a decision right now! What's it gonna be?" I pull at the skin on my fingers, staring down John B. We even hide it or face the fucking consequences. I don't feel like dealing with the latter. Shoupe knocks again. "John B," I shout his name desperately. The knocking becomes louder. So does my heart against my ribs.

                         "Hide the body," John B spits out. Okay, okay! The better choice. Now, we just have to clean up blood and find where to hide it as Shoupe is outside. "Hide the body–hide the body where?!" Pope rushes. "Shut up, that's what we're doing, okay?" JJ bellows. I spin around, looking for anywhere to put this guy. "Behind the couch! Move the couch!" John B says through gritted teeth. Before my brain processes my movements, I'm helping JJ move the couch.

                       Our friends break out into low, frustrated whispers. "Yo, shush!" I yell as softly as I can at them. "Grabs his legs," John B orders JJ. They each have a hold of his legs and starts dragging him. "No, no! The blood!" I remind them as his body begins to be moved. "Don't drag him!" Kie waves her hands in front of her face. "I'll grab the skateboard," Bailey bounces at her idea. "The skateboard?!" I question. "Yes! Under him!" Bailey explains, using the help of the boys to place the board under him.

                    "That's my board!" JJ groans. "Now is not the time to complain, JJ," Bailey retorts. "Pope, get Cleo out of here," I whisper to him, making him rush over to his girlfriend who remains in a state of shock. But Cleo comes over, staring down at Terrance. "Cleo, don't look, Cleo. Just go upstairs," Kie softly tells her.

We get Terrance on the skateboard, rolling him towards the couch. Sarah and Bailey run to get the cleaning supplies, stopping more blood from staining the flors. Maybe our hands even. Is this partially our fault? Another dead person because of our adventures?

                                 "I'll handle Shoupe," JJ leaves out the back door before I can even try and stop him. 'Fuck. Okay, well, uh, fuck. John B, lift him!" I order as I grab Terrance's top half. "I'm trying!" John B whispers back. I groan, lifting the heavy man as much as I can. "Try harder!" I angrily ell him, my bones aching. Pope comes over and we get him up and behind the couch. I pant, hands falling to my knees. His open eyes stare back at me, void of memories or life. "My stomach," I mutter and throw a blanket over the man. I'm sorry, dude.

                                Shoupe walks past the window, heading towards JJ. The girls are still scrubbing at the floor. Our towels are now soaked with the red liquid. "It's so sticky!" Sarah cries. I cringe at the sight, "Bleach. That would help."

                   "Anything would," Bailey groans, looking at the blood soaked towel. Sarah shudders, wiping up more blood. "The gun, Pope! We have to do something with the gun!" Kie says, barely holding onto it while Pope just grabs it. "Just wipe the prints off!" John B yells and Pope listens with a shaky hand. Sarah comes back with bleach and I grab a towel falling to my knees and panting as I wipe every crevice of the hardwood floors. The strong scent of bleach floods my lungs, making me even more dizzy as I wipe.

                              "He's coming!" Bailey runs around, picking up any other evidence. I snap my head towards the door. "There's so much blood in the hallway!" JB says, getting the last of it. We rush to random positions, trying to remain natural. I run up the stairs while the others hide among the house. I run down to Cleo and Pope's room, hearing Shoupe's distant voice. I creak the door open and see Cleo with her head in her hands, quietly sobbing.

                        "Cleo?" I quietly call out. She snaps her head up at me, "Sam?" I take that as my opportunity to walk into the room. It's a perfect mix of them both. Nerdy stuff lines the walls, airplane models Pope built as well as ship models Cleo built. Her tear stained cheeks make me gulp. "Uh, I'm sorry about—Terrance. But, um, Shoupe is here," I say and her eyes go wide with panic, "We have it handled—"

                                "Hey, babe, can you come down here?" JJ shouts up the stairs. My eyes now fill with panic as well. "Shit! Stay here," I whisper, taking a deep breath before leaving the room. I stand at the top of the stairs, staring down at Bailey and JJ. This trio and a cop is a spell for disaster. I try and silently ask JJ for some context and then Bailey but they just motion for me to come down. Great. I make my way downstairs, turning the corner and seeing Shoupe.

                               "Hey there, Sam," He greets. "Shoupe," I simply say, staying a seat in the chair beside the couch. JJ and Bailey take opposite ends of the couch while Shoupe stares us down. JJ grabs the pillows, tossing them aside to act as casual as he can. Doofus. "Too many damn pillows on here, man," JJ mutters. "So, uh, what happened?" Bailey fails at acting clueless.

                   My eyes fall to her bruised hand. We make eye contact and I point at her fist. Thankfully, she catches on, sitting on her fist with a silent wince. Shoupe looks each of us over. I truly don't have the patience for this. "Shoupe, what happened?" I bluntly ask him. The Sheriff breathes through his nose and brings out his phone, "A little, uh, at home entertainment for y'all." I raise a brow but as soon as he flips it, I remember all those damn phones pointed at us earlier.

                              The first clip shows Bailey borderline tackling Ruthie. I glance over at her, watching her pierce her lips in embarrassment. "That's a new one for ya, Perez. That happen a lot in Florida?" Shoupe quirks. Bailey's face drops, glaring at the man, "No. They ran over turtles. That's gotta be a crime, right?"

                               "Didn't know you were such a tree hugger."

                                   "My girlfriend is, so I am," Bailey fakes a smile with a smug shrug. Shoupe nods and then shows the next video. It's JJ.

                        "You come near them—or any of us ever again," JJ speaks on the video, "And I'll come back and kill every single one of you."

                              Shoupe clicks his tongue, still holding the phone in our faces. I look over at my boyfriend, wondering how we get out of this shit now too. Because, y'know, there's also a rotting corpse currently behind him and Bailey.

                                   "That you?" Shoupe sarcastically asks. JJ nervously plays with his shark tooth necklace. I can see the gears of excuses turning. Or lies. Whatever can lessen this blow.

                               "A.I. has come a long way," JJ remarks. An involuntary chuckle falls from Bailey and I's lips. "A.I., huh?" Shoupe scoffs. "You see it make Will Smith eat pasta? It's getting scary," I comment. Shoupe glances between the three of us, "Sam, you're not in the clear either."

                             My jaw drops, trying to remember what I could've done and gotten caught for. "It's clear as day. Assault," He points at Bailey, "And threats."

                                  "Shoupe, they came at us with a truck, ran over a turtle hatch, nearly killed Kie and then nearly killed the rest of us, alright?" JJ gestures with his hand with every word.

                              "She punched a girl—"

                            "That bitch is a psychopath!" Bailey erupts. I agree but still motion for her to quiet down. "And you said you were gonna kill 'em all," Shoupe speaks to JJ again. "Yeah, out of self defense, alright?" JJ defends. "Shoupe, why would we just randomly makes threats without cause?!" I frustratedly ask him. He groans, head in his hands, "Do you guys know how many parents were calling me? And then I get a report from the ER saying you two vandalized a hyperbaric chamber!"

                         Oh. I definitely forgot I did that between the rest of the mess. I press my lips together, sharing a quick glance with JJ. "There was a lot—happening that day!" I throw my hands up, not knowing how to make an excuse without incriminating ourselves further. "Yeah, and they kept us in there for too long," JJ adds, "I was cooked like a chicken, like, uh......there's the Improper Patient Care for a Patient Act, where it, like, protects us from—"

                             "Stop," Shoupe cuts JJ's rambling off, "I really don't want to charge you guys for any of this shit, but, I'll need your help with something."

                      Help from us? He must be desperate. "I'm trying to put this together," Shoupe grabs picture from his breast pocket. I gulp, leaning forward. I can feel JJ's gaze on me and that's enough to let a steady breath out. "Take a look at these. You three know anything?" SHoupe hands us each a few pictures.

                  My heart drops when I sort through the ones given. I hold multiple photos of a dead man with a tattoo that almost looks like Poseidon's staff. Too many dead guys in one day. Bailey sighs, "Are we back on that whole 'Pogues are murderers,' thing again, Shoupe?"

                               "'Cuz we don't know shit about this," I slide him back the photos. JJ flips through the photos, seemingly unphased. "You guys have never seen him around?" Shoupe asks. We all shake our heads, mumbling no's. Shoupe stares us down though, not believing us. "No, seriously, we've never seen him," JJ clarifies, going to hand him back the photos when they fall to the ground. I scramble to grab them, not wanting Shoupe to see under the couch, "Whoops," I giggle nervously.  

                                      The other two rush to their feet. JJ slings an arm around my waist, pulling me closer, "That it? Y'know, no further questions, officer?" Shoupe steps closer to JJ and I, "Actually, come to think of it, there is something else," He steps back, facing all of us, "We're looking into the cause of death for Wes Genrette."

                            "What?" Immediately flies out of my mouth. "Why? He was old. Probably had a heart attack," Bailey laughs a bit. JJ's grip on me gets tighter. "So, what were you doin' Saturday night?" Shoupe sternly asks us, mostly looking at JJ. Something makes my stomach sick. Call it women's intuition, I don't know. I got a vibe from Chandler and now they're saying it's a whole investigation. But, Shoupe does in fact believe we could have killed this man.

                         JJ scoffs loudly, "Goddamnit, Shoupe." I cross my arms, "We didn't do anything to Wes. I'm frankly tired of these accusations when Peterkin's murderer is just over the bridge." The words tumble out before I can stop them. I'm just—tired of this. All this shit happening and us being blamed. Shoupe's jaw clenches at the mention of the woman. "Guys, I gotta know," He shakes his head.

                                "We were here, Shoupe. Campfire, marshmallows, fish. Everything except a crime against Wes Genrette," Bailey explains, annoyance laced in every word. "Yes. Can confirm," JJ adds, "Even sang some songs." I tilt my head, "Singin' a crime?" Shoupe ignores my comments, knowing it's just to bug him. It's what I do best. "Okay. Cooking up fish and singing songs?" He questions. "Yup," I pop my P out as I speak. The longer he is in here, the more I feel Terrance's body closing in on us.

               I clench my fists. I'm fine. We're fine. I grab JJ's hand, finding one of his rings and spinning it to keep me grounded. "That's it. For now," Shoupe say, getting up.

                              "Happy to help," JJ says as Shoupe pats his shoulder, making eye contact with Bailey and I. It's so weird, despite everything, I don't hold a lot of malice towards Shoupe. I don't trust him—he doesn't trust us. I used to hate him, want him shot on the job. Especially when I was dating Adrien. It's a soft gaze he gives me before his eyes shift. An odd one I've never noticed.

                               He's giving us a break.

                          He's a cop, they're never to be trusted. Who the fuck can we trust besides each other and a few family members?

                         Shoupe stops before he gets to the door, "Guys, just—stay outta trouble for a bit, alright? And uh, keep being honest with me," He gives a small smile and a nod. But the closed eyes of the dead man behind the couch feels like he's burrowing into me. Guilty conscience, I hate it.

                                   Bailey salutes him as JJ greets him goodbye. As soon as that door shuts with a click, my lungs rattle with a deep exhale. Bailey spins around, eyes wide, "We gotta move this like body, yesterday."

                            "He needs a memorial, Bailey. He was family to Cleo," I remind her with a sigh. Bailey silently agrees with me but her brown eyes shift to JJ. He's slumped over, eyes on Terrance with a hidden shaky demeanor. His jaw is clenched, knuckles white between his rings. "I'll go find the others," Bailey gulps, running to get our friends.

                               I tilt my head at JJ, softly walking over to him before gently shifting his head to look at me. His blue orbs hesitate for moment, focused on Terrance but they eventually connect with my green orbs. "We're fine," I whisper, feeling how tense he is under my touch of his arms. He licks his lips, body slightly relaxing, "She's right. We gotta move him," JJ clears his throat.

                         My thumb slides across his cheek, "I know. I know. But he's gone. We're fine, baby," I bring his forehead to my lips, giving him a kiss, "Shall we go to our friends now and tell the we got more clues?" JJ slowly nods, taking my hand and then rushing outside. We find them at the back of the shack and by the looks across their faces, Bailey told them the news.

                           I grit my teeth, looking towards JJ who shares the nervous sentiment. "Okay, listen, we're good. Kind of," JJ says. Kiara scoffs, hand on her hip, "They didn't find Terrance but they have footage of you threatening someone," She points at JJ, "And you for assaulting the dumb brunette—"

                                     "I was defending you! My girlfriend!" Bailey raises her voice, throwing her hands up. "I didn't need any—defending," Kie retorts. "And the hyperbaric chamber," Pope adds and the others point at him, asking us what the hell is wring with us. I sigh, biting my lip, "It was either that or get stabbed—again, mind you!" They all just groan in disappointment. "He didn't see Terrance. That's the main thing, right?!" JJ says, still panting from fear.

                                "We got clues. Kinda," I clear my throat, seeing how they really would not want to hear this news, "Shoupe has a theory we did something to Wes Genrette. Something like murder, I guess, um," I scratch my head, watching their jaws drop. "I was waiting for you to admit that one," Bailey comments, "It's very loaded."

                                       "We told him we weren't anywhere near his place," JJ pipes in. Kie lets out a heavy breath, "And he believed you?"

                                "Seemed so," I reply with a shrug. "We're both the kids of criminals. I think we got it," JJ jokes but I only let out a dry chuckle. Sarah's gaze lingers on me. Don't look at her. I'll feel a sudden need to confess to the others. Pope shakes his head in disbelief. "Pope, he didn't see him," JJ quickly assures him, "Nothing to worry about. Hey, yo," JJ walks over, grabbing Pope's attention, "Papa Jay handled it, alright? We got it."

                                      Still, worried glances move throughout the group, even one from me. We gotta be okay. There's no other choice.

                                         CRICKETS CHIRP, PEACEFULLY AWARE of the hell endured today. The moon hangs over the house as I stare at through the screened in porch.

                                 A still shaken up Cleo sniffles from in front of me. Pope slings a comforting arm around her shoulders, an thousand mile stare across his face that matches Cleo's. She stabs her knife into the wood next to her, "First things first, we take care of Terrance."

                         I don't want to say I know how she feels. Piper was a close friend, not family. No, fuck that, she was. But I didn't grow up with her. She wasn't all I had for a while like Terrance was for Cleo. But I understand the rage, the anger and the revenge looping around her brain. And I don't blame her at all. I'd be a hypocrite to do so.

                                   "Of course," Sarah mutters. "Can't just leave him here," Cleo says through a sniffle, "Won't sit right on my conscience." The winds makes the chimes outside play a tune. An almost too cheerful one that annoys me for too long of a moment. John B paces between us, "Cleo's right. We gotta do something about Terrance. And then we have to get the hell outta here," He says over a stressed JJ and I, "Road trip."

                           I snap my head up, "We wanna leave Outer Banks? Again? Because that works everytime, John B," I sarcastically remark. "Where the hell would we go?" Bailey asks loudly. "John B and I were talking. We think the North Star and the Half Moon Battery is referring to Charleston," Pope explains. My shoulders slump. I have to talk to Weston beforehand, incase I die and can't tell him to his face how badly I wanted him to stay dead.

                               "If we get to Charleston before them, we have a fighting chance," John B tells us and there is a collective groan from us, "We have no other option! What...what are we doing?"

                                      "What do you mean?!" Kie cries. "The zoning notice, Kie," John B reminds us. I audibly groan. Forgot about that, too. There is too much happening. There's only one source to blame—the treasure. Without it, we lose our house, business, everything. "John B, they killed Terrance!" Kie shouts, "We're in way, way over our heads!"

                                           My fingers anxiously fiddle with anything I can get my hands on. They pick at my skin, spin my necklace. Until JJ grabs my hand, gently forcing it into his without saying a word nor looking at me. "I know, Kie, but we have no choice," John B pleads with the girl, "Dawn patrol."

                                  Across the small room, I lock eyes with Kie's glossed over eyes. Small tears form but before they can fall, we both look away. John B walks over to JJ, "Get the Twinkie up and running by dawn." My free hand runs through my hair as JJ agrees. 'The rest of will do right by Terrance," John B adds. We're leaving by dawn. I have until dawn to talk to Weston. Get this right by Piper.

                              "Meet back here at 0700 hours," John B says, "First ferry leaves at 8:00am." A part of me doesn't want to go, a part of me doesn't want to take this risk. Kie's right, this guy killed Terrance. It's weird going from not caring whether you live or die to begging there to be a tomorrow. John B is locked onto a grieving Cleo, "Let's go to Charleston. Okay with that, Cleo?"

                          She grabs her knife from the cut she made in the wood, staring at the blade of the it, "In Charleston, we could find the man that killed Terrance," She gruffly says before stabbing the knife back into the wood, "I'm good with it."

                              A mixture of anger and fear falls over us like a suffocating blanket. It's too much for me. It feels like I'm dying. I let go of JJ and rush to our room and grab the envelope from my nightstand.

                                        His fucking handwriting. I open it, staring at where he said to meet him at the Seashore Hotel. It's today or possibly never.

                           I hear heavy footsteps. JJ. I throw the card back in the nightstand right as he gets to the room. "Hey, sunshine, you alright?" JJ coos. I shudder a bit, "I, uh—just stressed." He sighs, knowingly, "If it's about Weston....."

                                "Enough. Please?" I beg as he speaks of my father's name. "Don't go to that hotel, princess, please?" He pleads desperately. The firm but soft grip on my hand feels like he's scared to let go of me, knowing exactly what I'll do. I take a breath, kissing his neck, "I think i might head over to my mom's, tell her what's going on."

                                "There's a storm, babe," JJ chuckles, moving hair from my face. I almost want to wince. Shit, who even knows if I'll make it out of this hotel alive much less Charleston. I grab his face, staring at him, memorizing every light freckle, every little detail that makes my JJ, my JJ.

                                 I connect our lips, fingers practically clawing at his hair. His hands sling around my waist. The back of my legs touch the edge of our bed and he pulls away with a grin. "Do you have some extra time before you go?" He whispers, kissing along my jaw. A whimper escapes at the feeling. This could be the last time I hold him, see him. If Weston hides my body well enough, he'll never see me again either.

                               Every touch ignites my body. His hands explore under my shirt so mine crawl under his, touching his toned body. "Y-Yeah, I have time," I mumble, still flustered by him years later. Even though I have his touch memorized. Even though I can feel him there even when he's not. JJ pushes me against the bed, "Good. I only need 15 minutes of your time," He smirks, taking my shirt off.

                                At least this'll be the last thing that makes me feel alive.

                       THE SEASHORE MOTEL HAS ALWAYS BEEN—run down, to say the least. For a year once it was abandoned and the boys and I tried to get in, much to Pope's dismay we eventually did.

                      I'm gonna be honest—it still looks basically the same as it did when it was abandoned. Except there's also rundown cars to the right of me. And unfortunately, I can hear the loud moaning of a girl that clearly just wants to get it over with letting me know somehow, people inhabit this place.

                          Including Weston Vernon.

                         He said he's locked up so I doubt he has a car. Stupid fuck didn't give me a room number though. I can't just knock on all these doors. One is bound to kidnap me. Shit, actually, that might be my own father.

                             I look down the row of doors. Some have their lamps shining into the dirty, hazed over windows. Some are just dark. And creepy.

                         I start slowly walking down the row of doors, staring at each. I throw my hood up and over my head. Wait, that might make me look more suspicious. I pull it down and stuff my hands in my pockets. I miss when my life wasn't domestic and I had a gun on me. Then again, said gun is how I ended up at this graveyard of a place.

                       I'm shuffling down the sidewalk. The street light flickers with a low buzz. I take in my surroundings for the first full time. This place is so far out into the island. God, JJ is gonna be pissed if I die here.

                          A door clicks open, stopping me in my tracks with a gasp. It creaks open. I step back. It opens fully and I take two steps back.

                     The porch light for the room turns on, moths from the roof flock to the dusty light. The person spins around. So does my stomach.

                      Weston stares back at me. Not decomposed or falling off the bone. If anything, he's looks the nicest I've ever seen him. His facial hair is shorter. He looks less tired. Less like the man that tortured me for years. But then I remember, he's continuing to do so by contacting me. An achingly familiar smile runs across his face. The same smile I see in every photo of me.

                          Words escape my throat. A ghost. A ghost under this hazy, flickering light. That's all my mind can comprehend. Get it together. My eyes look at his stomach, the place I shot him but his flannel covers any scars.

                              "There's my kid."

———

ahhhh shittttt