❝ You know, I have the feeling I'm gonna marry you someday, Oak.❞
- What would you do if you found out murder ran through your own blood?
And that, that blood was going to be the reason for the island's biggest case in the history of its existenc...
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WHEN YOU LIVE LIKE A POGUE, having an enjoyable, healthy, full-night sleep starts to sound like a hilariously unfunny sadistic joke. It's either crashing involuntarily at three in the morning just to wake up to someone's morning loudness, blacking out from a drunken stupor and waking up at death's door, or going to sleep way too early and waking up at three in the morning because your body is simply not used to a healthy schedule.
There's no in-between, but there is a combination of all.
And that's Oakley.
Laying face-down on her bed, with her mouth fallen open, her neck craned back in a strange way and her arm dangling from her bed, the girl can easily be confused with the corpse found yesterday at the Wreck. Her hair is a mess of waves, her beaded braid is tangled and her cheeks are as red as the blood that runs behind the tissue. As a final touch, the right side of her jaw is a deep shade of red and purple and the purple hand marks around her neck can't even be covered with her thousand necklaces.
The sun shines dearly on the Outer Banks that morning, as if nothing happened yesterday, as if anyone is still in the mood to enjoy the warmth. Bali lays right under Oakley's dangling arm as he stares out the balcony, watching the ocean stretch beyond his eyes can see and the sky display its usual dull yellow. The room feels warm, with the mess inside and the sun seeping in, heat is the last thing that lacks in the small space.
The door of her room slowly swings open as a head of blonde curls peeks inside. Jackson's eyes soften as he looks at his oldest sister standing behind him, shrugging innocently at her. Stella rolls her eyes and slightly pushes the boy as she breaks into the warm room, trudging towards the bed.
"Oakley Moon," she grabs the girl's shoulder and pulls her onto her back as she groans, her lips slowly shutting as her eyebrows furrow.
Jackson refrains from giggling as he stands by the door. It gets harder when Oakley simply lets herself relax again and her body settles lazily again as she falls asleep, making Stella groan as she grabs her limp arm and pulls her up into a sitting position.
Rising her head from being craned back, Oakley's eyes lazily blink open as her head spins. She holds herself steady once she feels her body swaying sideways and rubs her eyes tiredly, flinching when her fist grazes her jaw.
"Oh. . . God!" She shuts her eyes tightly and presses a hand to the aching side of her face, her mouth moving strangely at the odd feeling of the bones of her jaw hurting.
"Yeah. Fight last night, remember? Maybe that's why fucking Sheriff Peterkin is at our door right now looking for you,"
Oakley's eyes snap open and slowly trail up to meet her sister's angered gaze, her blue eyes narrowed and her arm gestured out towards the door, where Jackson stands with his leg crossed over the other and his hand holding onto the knob.
