hell and back

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❤️‍🔥

Fast forward a few hours, and the party is in full swing. The beach is a sea of bodies, a mix of Pogues, Kooks, and tourists, all drawn to the bonfire like moths to a flame. The smell of sizzling hot dogs and cheap beer fills the air, the music a pulsating heartbeat that matches the rhythm of the waves. Myah's eye is a bruised mess. She's nursing a beer, leaning against the makeshift bar, watching the chaos unfold with a detached amusement.

JJ sidles up to her, his smile easy and his eyes a little too bright. "So I talked to Rachel." he says, his voice a gentle rumble that's a stark contrast to the party's cacophony.

Myah's heart drops like an anchor thrown overboard. She takes a sip of her beer, trying to keep her cool. "Oh yeah?" she says, her voice casual.

JJ nods, his eyes on her face like a hawk watching prey. "Yeah," he says, his voice a mix of amusement and something else she can't quite place. "So, who is this girl I'm apparently seeing?"

Myah's grip tightens on the plastic cup, the condensation cold and slick under her fingers. "Well would you look at that," she says, her eyes sliding from the cup to him. But she can feel the weight of his gaze on her like the heaviness of the gun in her pocket. "I need to go refill!"

With that, she turns and walks away, leaving JJ standing there like a shipwrecked sailor lost at sea. She weaves through the crowd, the laughter and shouts of the partygoers a wall of noise that doesn't quite drown out the thud of her own heart.

As she walks, the music and voices become a blur, the smells of the beach bonfire and spilled beer mixing into one overwhelming scent that makes her dizzy. She's about to reach the cooler when she collides with someone, sending her beer flying in an arc of liquid gold that lands with on the person.

Looking up, she's met with Sarah Cameron, the Kook princess herself, her eyes wide with shock. "Oh my god, Sarah, I'm so sorry," Myah says, her voice rushing out like a tide retreating from the shore.

But Sarah just laughs, the sound musical and surprising. "Don't worry about it," she says, her voice light as a feather on the wind. "It's just a little beer."

Myah stares at her, the shock still lingering on her face like the aftermath of a surprise wave. "Are you okay?" she asks, her voice a mix of disbelief and concern.

But before Sarah can respond, a figure looms over them, tall and broad, casting a shadow like the silhouette of a storm cloud on a sunny afternoon. It's Topper, her boyfriend, his eyes dark with something that looks suspiciously like anger. "What's going on here?" he growls, his voice a thunderclap in the stillness of the moment.

Myah's heart skips a beat, the tension thick as the fog that often rolls in from the sea. "It was an accident," she says, her voice tight with nerves.

Topper's eyes narrow, his gaze as sharp as the edge of a knife. "Dirty ass Pogue," he says, his voice a sneer that slices through the air like a gull's cry. He shoves her back, hard enough to make her stumble.

"Did you just put hands on me?" Myah asks, her voice firm as the foundation of the Chateau. The crowd around them seems to melt away, their laughter and chatter evaporating into the night air like mist before the sun. The only sound is the crackle of the bonfire and the distant crash of the waves.

Topper's grip tightens on his beer can, his knuckles white with rage. "You're lucky I don't do worse," he sneers.

Myah's eyes narrow, the fire in her belly burning hotter than the bonfire behind them. She takes a step closer, her voice low and dangerous. "You lay one more finger on me, and that will be the last thing you ever do," she says, her words a promise wrapped in a threat.

Topper smirks, his eyes cold and calculating. He takes a sip of his beer, the liquid amber glinting in the firelight. "Or what?" he asks, his voice a taunt.

Myah's eyes never leave Topper's, her jaw set like the jaw of a pit bull on a bone. "Or I'll rip that pretty predestinate face off," JJ says, his voice a low rumble from behind her. The words hang in the air like a foghorn in a silent night.

Topper turns to Myah, his sneer slipping into a snarl. "Do you feel good about yourself?" he spits. "Threatening innocent people?"

"I have no fucking idea what you're talking about Topper." Myah's words drip with venom. 

"Innocent?" JJ scoffs, taking a step closer so that their chests almost touch. His eyes are a stormy sea, the same color as the ocean during a tempest. "You put hands on her again and I'll kill you."

Topper's smirk widens, his hand shooting out like lightning, smacking the beer out of JJ's grip. The cup flies through the air, spraying liquid everywhere. The music and chatter around them fade into the background as the beer rains down like a sudden summer shower, the cold droplets a stark contrast to the heat of the moment. The crowd gasps, a collective inhale that's as sharp as the crack of a whip.

JJ's eyes flash with fury, his hand grabbing onto Topper's shirt and yanking him closer. The fabric stretches taut between them, a barrier that seems as flimsy as the peace between the Pogues and Kooks.

Myah sees the situation escalating faster than a tsunami, and she knows she needs to act. She steps between them, her palms flat against JJ's chest, trying to push him back. But he's like a brick wall, unmovable and unyielding.

John B grabs JJ's arm and yanks him back with surprising strength. "Chill, JJ," he says, his voice a low growl that echoes the warning of a watchful sea creature.

Topper's smirk turns into a snarl, and he takes a step towards them. "Dirty Pogues," he sneers, his words aimed at JJ like the barbed tail of a scorpion.

But before he can say more, John B's arm shoots out like a whip, his hand connecting with Topper's chest in a shove that sends the Kook stumbling backward. The crowd gasps, a collective intake of breath that's as sharp as the crack of a whip. The music seems to stutter, the beat faltering like a heart skipping in fear.

Myah steps up, her voice a knife's edge. "Who you calling a dirty Pogue, huh Topper?" she says, her eyes narrowed into slits. "You think you're better than us because your daddy's got a boat and a big house?"

Topper laughs, a sound devoid of humor. "Look around, sweetheart," he says, gesturing to the crowd of Kooks that have gathered around them. "You're the one that's out of place here."

But before he can say more, Myah's hands are on him again, pushing him back with a strength fueled by rage and pride. He stumbles, his feet tangling in the sand, and he goes down with a thud that's as satisfying as the crunch of a perfect apple. The crowd gasps, the suddenness of the move like a shark breaching the water's surface.

"Bite me, bitch," Myah spits out, her voice as venomous as a scorpion's tail. Topper's eyes widen, his smug expression slipping like a mask in a hurricane. He scrambles to his feet, his fists clenched.

For a moment, the world seems to hold its breath. The bonfire crackles like a snare drum, the only sound in the tense silence that's stretched tighter than a bowstring. And then, Topper lunges at her, his fist aimed straight for her face.

But Myah's a Pogue, and she's been dodging storms like these her whole life. She sidesteps with the grace of a dolphin and slams her hand into his chest with a force that echoes through the night. "Back the fuck up before I call the cops," she yells, her voice a siren's call that cuts through the party's din.

But Topper doesn't listen, he lunges again and collides his fist right into Myah's nose. The impact sends her stumbling back, stars exploding in her vision like a meteor shower. She feels the warmth of blood trickling down her face, mingling with the salt of the ocean air. She tastes the metallic tang on her tongue, a reminder of the battle she's fighting for her pride.

And then, like a bolt of lightning, John B is there. He runs over with a roar, his fist flying through the air. It connects with Topper's jaw with a crack that's as loud as a thunderclap, sending the Kook sprawling into the sand. The crowd goes wild, a mix of cheers and gasps that's as tumultuous as a hurricane's roar.

Kie and Pope rush over, their faces a mirror of concern and anger. "Myah, are you okay?" Kie asks, her voice tight with worry as she grabs Myah's arm, her eyes darting to her nose.

Myah nods, her vision swimming like she's just been tossed in the rip current. "I'm fine," she says, her voice muffled by the hand she's holding to her nose. But the tremble in her voice gives her away, like a lighthouse beam flickering in the storm.

Kie helps her to a bench, and Myah watches as John B and Topper take their fight to the water. The waves crash around them, the moonlight glinting off their skin like sharks circling in for the kill. They're a blur of limbs, a dance of rage and desperation that mirrors the chaotic rhythm of the sea. The salty water splashes up, mixing with the blood from Myah's nose to form a crimson tide that laps at the shore.

The crowd has turned into a sea of faces, all of them chanting "Fight, fight, fight!" The air is thick with the scent of testosterone and the sweet tang of fear. JJ stands on the sidelines, his eyes never leaving John B, a fierce look of pride and determination etched into his features. He's cheering John B on like he's his own personal gladiator.

Myah's heart is in her throat as she watches the two of them, the waves crashing around them like a symphony of rage. John B's head is underwater now, and she can't tell if it's by choice or if Topper's got him in a hold. She can see the muscles in JJ's arms tense up, ready to jump in and save his friend, but he holds back, his eyes never leaving the water. It's like he's willing John B to come up on his own.

And then, Pope's voice cuts through the night like a knife, "No, he's drowning him!" Myah's blood turns to ice, the words echoing in her ears like the toll of a distant bell.

With a jolt of panic, she's on her feet, sprinting towards JJ. The world around her blurs into a kaleidoscope of sand and shadows. Time seems to slow, each step heavier than an anchor, her legs moving like they're fighting through a current of molasses.

Her hand shoots out and grabs the gun from the back of JJ's waistband, the cold steel a stark contrast to the warmth of his skin. His eyes widen in surprise, a split-second of confusion before they snap to the fight in the water. She knows him. She knows he's going to try and use the gun in this situation.

"Myah what the hell?" he snaps, trying to pull the gun away from her. But she's stronger than she looks, her grip like the jaws of a shark.

"No, JJ, please," she says, her voice a desperate plea. "I know you're going to do something stupid."

But it's too late. JJ's eyes are cold, colder than the metal of the gun in her hand. He rips it out of her grip like it's a toy, and she watches in horror as he strides over to Topper. The Kook is still on his knees, John B is coughing up water and gasping for breath.

JJ stands behind him, the gun pressed to the back of Topper's head. "Yeah, you know what that is," he says, his voice a deadly whisper that sends a chill down Myah's spine.

The beach erupts into a cacophony of screams and shouts, the crowd dispersing like a flock of seagulls startled by a predator. Sand flies in every direction as people run, their panic palpable. Sarah's voice pierces through the chaos, "JJ, put the gun down!"

Without even turning his head, JJ asks Sarah, "Did you say something, princess?" The words are a slap in the face, a reminder of their rivalry that's as deep-rooted as the island's lighthouse. The gun doesn't waver, the metal digging into the soft skin at the base of Topper's skull like a warning from the sea itself.

Topper starts to stand up from the water, his eyes wide with fear, and says, "Hey, we're good. We're good." His voice is a mix of desperation and pleading.

He takes the gun away from Topper's head, his eyes never leaving the Kook's terrified face. He strides through the water, the waves splashing around him like a warrior emerging from the sea. He reaches Myah, Kie, and Pope, the gun still in his hand. The crowd has gone eerily silent, the only sound the hushed whispers of the retreating tide.

"Okay everyone, listen up!" JJ yells, his voice carrying over the beach like the call of a gull. "Get the hell off our side of the island!" His words are a declaration of war, a warning to the Kooks that their territory has been breached, and the Pogues are not to be trifled with.

With that, he raises the gun skyward and fires two shots, the sound echoing off the surrounding dunes like a thunderclap. The crowd gasps, and even the waves seem to pause for a moment before continuing their steady march toward the shore. The gunfire is a stark reminder of the volatile nature of their world, where survival is more than just a game, it's a way of life.

Kie's eyes go wide with shock, her hand shooting out to push JJ's chest. "Are you crazy?" she screams, her voice a mix of fear and anger. The gun's barrel points at the ground, the sand jumping with the impact of the third shot. The sound reverberates through the night.

Pope's voice joins the fray, his eyes dark with rage. "What the hell, JJ? You're an idiot!" His voice is a roar, the words crashing into the stillness like waves against the shore.

But JJ's focus is on Myah, his eyes searching hers for understanding, for absolution. She stares back at him, her heart hammering in her chest like a drum in a war dance. She can see the conflict in his eyes, the storm of emotions that's as wild and unpredictable as the ocean.

With a sigh, she turns and wades into the water, the cold waves reaching her thighs as she makes her way to John B. He's standing now, his chest heaving like a ship rising and falling with the tide. She reaches out, her hand touching his shoulder tentatively. "You okay?" she asks, her voice softer than the whisper of a shell against the sand.

John B nods, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before flicking over to JJ. "Yeah," he says, his voice hoarse. "Thanks." But Myah can see the question in his eyes, the doubt that JJ's actions have planted like a seed in fertile soil.

Myah turns back to JJ, her smile slipping away like the tide retreating from the shore. The anger in Kie and Pope's voices is a symphony of accusations and fear, but she can't help the way her heart swells at the sight of JJ standing there, the gun now hanging loosely at his side.

...

KATE SPEAKS!

my babies.
i love them so dearly