BOOK 1 [with seasons 1 & 2]
Aurora Lili Routledge, or as everyone calls her; Rory, is the twin sister of John B Routledge. With the summer approaching, Rory and John B have made a perfect plan along with their friends; JJ, Pope, and Kie to have a...
[⚠T/W: upsetting and sad scenes ahead, mentions of death, and heath crisis]
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It's just a lot to think about the world I'm used to... The one I can't get back. At least not for a while... I sure have a knack for seeing life more like a child.. It's not my fault, it's not so wrong to wonder why.. Everybody dies.
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Third Person Perspective~
THE night hung heavily over the docks, casting a shadow upon the whispered secrets that danced through the air. The scent of saltwater mingled with the musty odour of desperation as Rory found herself shackled, her wrists bound with cold, unforgiving metal. The police tent loomed before her like a dark spectre, its canvas walls billowing ominously in the brisk night breeze.
Her friends, the Pogues, were held in a separate tent, their faces etched with worry and uncertainty. JJ's eyes bore the weight of guilt, Kie's resolve wavered like a flame in the wind, and Pope's furrowed brow betrayed the turmoil within. They were powerless against the machinations that had ensnared them, and Rory, a beacon of resilience in the face of adversity, now stood alone, a pawn in a sinister game.
The flickering lanterns cast eerie shadows on the ground as Rory was led into the tent where her fate awaited. The air inside was thick with tension, suffocating like the truth she desperately yearned to share. The police officers, faces obscured by stern expressions, surrounded her like predators closing in on their prey.
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"Sit down," one of them barked, pushing her into a cold metal chair that seemed to sap the warmth from her very soul. The dim light revealed the lines of exhaustion etched into Rory's young face, her eyes defiant yet filled with a profound sadness that betrayed the innocence within.
Detective Bratcher, a man with a steely gaze and a reputation for bending truth to suit the powerful, took the lead. "Rory, we know you're covering for your brother," he sneered, his words like venom dripping from a snake's fangs. "Tell us where John B is, and maybe we can help you."
The girl's eyes blazed with determination. "I've already told you, he's innocent! Rafe Cameron is the one who killed Sheriff Peterkin," she asserted, her voice trembling but resolute.
Detective Bratcher exchanged a glance with his cohorts, while deputy Shoupe stood beside him, glaring down at her, a silent communication that spoke of disdain for Rory's claims. "Save the fairy tales for bedtime, sweetheart. We've got witness statements putting John B at the scene," he retorted, a smirk playing on his lips.
As Rory struggled against her restraints, the memories of that fateful moment flooded back. The blood-stained hands of her and her brother, while Rafe Cameron stood over them with a gun in his hands, the echoes of a gunshot piercing the air, and the desperate escape of her twin brother haunted her every waking moment. Yet, the truth seemed elusive, slipping through her grasp like sand through clenched fingers.
