𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 - kiara carrera¹

𝒍𝒗𝒊. 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒂𝒅

"THEY'RE DISAPPEARING."

Kiara and Tatum laid beside each other in bed peacefully, the Carrera girl brushing her fingertips up and down her girlfriend's left arm. Tatum looked down at the faded white scars with a small frown. "Oh...yeah."

"We've never really talked about it," Kie spoke softly.

Tatum shrugged. "There's nothing to talk about," she assured her. "After Dad finished...you know...I'd need something to give me a...like...it's like a rush thing..." She shook her head. "It's weird. But I'm not, like, suicidal or anything - I have been once or twice, but never when I did that. It just kind of helped a little, I guess. The adrenaline and the kick of it all."

Kiara nodded understandingly, moving her palm up to cup her girlfriend's cheek, looking itno her hypnotic, deep blue eyes. "Do you want to get Thomas cremated today, or...?"

The other girl nodded. "Yeah, but I want to make sure John B's okay first," she said with a sad smile. "And I want Pope to come with us when I get his ashes. He really liked Thomas...I think he almost loved him, even."

Letting out a sigh as Tatum lightly traced her cold fingertips over her stomach, Kiara sighed, a smile on her face at her girl's consideration for their friends. "Of course."

When they got the château the previous night, JJ, Tatum and Kiara fell into deep sleep the moment their heads hit the pillow. Pope had finally decided to finally go home, because he had to be with his dad for the scholarship interview, and John B was nowhere to be found. He would come home soon, though - he just needed some time for himself, that was all. He called them last night, explaining that he was on the docks, and apologised for worrying a very stressed Kie.

Today was supposed to be a day for relaxation. They'd wait for Pope to get back, congratulate him, bake him a cake, get Thomas' ashes - nothing big was supposed to happen at all. Today, the teenagers were supposed to finally breathe after weeks of being suffocated. But, of course, this didn't happen at all.

While the two girls woke themselves up, JJ was frying bacon and eggs in the kitchen, happily singing along to Taylor Swift's Lover album, as he did every morning, wearing his baby pink 'hot mama' apron Tatum and John B bought for his 15th birthday. "JB's gonna kill you for fucking in his bed," the boy called when his song finished.

Tatum rolled her eyes, lifting herself up from where she was laid. "We've all fucked someone in his bed...except Pope. And Sarah. And Thomas. Wait. No, yeah, I'm right." Before Kiara could scold her girlfriend for not denying it, Tatum's phone began to ring.  "Speaking of cum sheets..."

𑁍𑁍𑁍

"HOW ARE YOU? ARE YOU OKAY?"

Tatum launched herself at John B the moment she saw him. He squeezed her back with the same amount of comfort she gave him. "Are you?" he asked, pulling away to check her badly beaten face. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"It's fine," she assured him honestly, her only concern being him at the moment.

"You sure he got everything?" asked Kiara, getting straight to the point, sitting on the wooden, damaged fence and pulling Tatum in to stand in between her legs.

Earlier that day, John B went back to the Crain house to check that everything was ready for them to get the rest of the gold. But when he got there, he soon discovered that Ward Cameron and his wife, Rose, had bought the building. And took the gold with them.

"Every bar," the boy answered gloomily, laid across the deck, his head on the single pillow he slept on last night. "The whole enchilada." He sat up and grunted, yanking the pot off his fractured arm, sending a musty smell through the nearby air. "Look, it's not like I expected a happy ending or some shit."