DEVIL

1.0 | Prologue

Poetry Rain Collins stared out the window of the car as they crossed the border to Outer Banks, North Carolina. Her younger brother, five year old Eridanus, slept peacefully in his carseat beside her. "Theodore Anthony Collins!" Adela scolded her eldest son as he sat beside her in the passenger seat. "He's asleep, mom; he can't hear me," Anthony replied, only to hear Eridanus' small voice confirm that he'd been pretending to sleep.

Adela continued scolding her eldest son, despite him being a twenty-year-old adult, until they pulled into the driveway of their new home in Outer Banks. "This is much nicer than the place I called 'home' when I lived here," Adela beamed as she stepped out of the car. Adela had grown up on the Cut, as well as her late husband, until they made a name for themselves.

Poetry leaned into the car and held Eridanus in her arms as she stared at the large house, both in adoration and resentment. Truthfully, Poetry planned on holding a grudge against her mother for uprooting herself and her brothers from their lives in Georgia. Adela always praised Poetry for being so much like her father, though sometimes, Poetry was scolded for that very same reason.

Upon being instructed to find their rooms and unpack, that's exactly what Poetry and her two brothers did – Poetry had to help Eridanus, of course. Poetry's room was upstairs and at the back of the house, which meant she had a breathtaking view of the beach; she didn't have that in Georgia. However, she didn't have friends in the Outer Banks.

Her room felt stiff, and un-lived-in. It was a spacious room with white wainscoting against the light cream walls, and dark hardwood floors; the windows facing the beach were floor to ceiling. Most people would love a room like this, and typically, Poetry would've been more than grateful; the fact of the matter is, she wasn't home; home was back in Georgia, in the room with baby pink walls, and paintings adorning those same walls to hide the marker stains from when she was a child.

Home was tracing her hands along the loose railing on the stairs – the railing had been repaired, but it was never quite right after countless "banister-racing," as Poetry and Anthony called one of their favorite forms of entertainment when they were kids. Poetry could usually always slide down the banister faster than Anthony; she still has bragging rights.

Home was sitting on Theodore's lap as he coaxed Adela into letting Poetry extend her bedtime for just five more minutes, because he knew how much his daughter adored hearing his stories from his boating adventures, no matter how overly-exaggerated they were. Home was with her dad, and in that case, Poetry hadn't been home in two years.

The movers had already placed her bed exactly where she wanted it, along with her desk and vanity. Poetry had already hung most of her clothes up in her closet, placed her pictures of herself and her dad on the nightstand, hung the polaroids of herself and her friends, primarily Alyssa Burbank, and yet, there was still an ample amount of boxes and luggage to unpack.

"Poe," Adela called as she stepped into the room. "We're going to the Camerons' home for dinner tonight," she continued. Initially, Poetry agreed, until the name rang a bell in her mind. "The Camerons?" Poetry asked. "Isn't that the family that dad has held a grudge against for the past twenty years?" Adela only sighed before confirming. After arguing for some time, Poetry's persistence won; she refused to befriend any member of a family which her father resented.