✲ .｡ ﾟ ﾟ｡. ✲ ❛ THE PHANTOM ❜ ✲ .｡ ﾟ ﾟ｡. ✲ S 01 E 10
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The wreck was our last hope.
There was quite literally nowhere else for us to go. My house and the château were both out of the question, I'm sure the Heywards wouldn't appreciate seeing their son who ran out of his interview and his friends which they don't particularly like. Don't even get me started on how pissed Kie's parents would be if we just showed up on their doorstep.
So, we opted for their restaurant instead.
Everyone had picked larger tables to sleep on, for the time being, using stacks of napkins for pillows. Everyone besides me had been knocked out pretty easily, but my stomach continued to flip over and over with worry and guilt, which only made my thoughts spiral. I had tossed and turned as quietly as possible, but instead of bothering everyone else in the middle of their sleep, I opted for venturing out back to be alone with my thoughts.
Air whipped around me, clinging to my aching skin. The smell of sea salt wafted in from the shore that wasn't too far off of the back of the restaurant, my phone flying between my hands as I tossed it back and forth. I'm fairly sure my bottom lip bled from how long I had been chewing on it, and my throat was tight with the tears I was holding back.
As much as I wished that I didn't go after this damn gold in the first place, I knew deep down that my life would inevitably become wrapped up in chaos. Could I have predicted that the sheriff would be dead and that my best friend would be framed for her murder? Not in a million years. Would I have thought that it would have been Sarah Cameron's older brother that pulled the trigger, for god's sake? Absolutely not. If I had known him better, maybe, but his facade certainly seemed to hide that side of him well.
It felt like my brain was convulsing from how many thoughts twirled around each other, and I desperately craved nothing more than the sweet solace of sleeping in my bed. But, I wouldn't be able to return there for a while. The legalities of my emancipation, signing up for school, and other things would be flying at me in the coming days and weeks, and it seems that I'm steadily losing hope of ever escaping this deep, deep hole that I've dug.
What would my dad think if he was here right now?
Would he grab me by the shoulders, tell me to get my head in the game, and power through this like he knows I can? Or, would he pull me close, kiss my forehead, tell me he loves me, and that he'd handle it so I didn't have to?
My eyes clenched shut and I caught my phone tightly in my right hand, the screen illuminating and washing my face in a yellow-toned light. It was at 20 percent and considering all circumstances, I should probably keep it that way.
