Rogue | outer banks

006 - Enemy Territory

Usually, I would've brushed off Topper's invitation without a second thought. Our worlds had diverged, the gulf between Kooks and Pogues widening with every passing day. But this time, for some odd reason, I didn't decline. Maybe it was the haunting specter of John B's near-drowning that lingered in my thoughts, compelling me to seek answers, even in the most unlikely places. Or perhaps, it was the distant memory of restless days spent at the Camerons. Days when Rafe and I used to find comfort in shared laughter, moments when the world seemed simpler.

I found myself climbing to the roof, a place that used to offer solace, where Rafe and I would mess around, laughing away our cares. Now, it felt like a relic of the past, a time before our worlds crumbled. I gazed upon the once-beautiful garden now scarred by Hurricane Agatha. The devastation mirrored the complexities of my own relationships. I heard footsteps, and as my brother's familiar red polo shirt appeared, I couldn't help but ask, "And you brought me here, because?"

"This used to be your favourite place," Topper replied, attempting to evoke a sense of connection that felt strained.

"Used to be," I agreed, my gaze fixed on the remnants of what once was. "Now I'm in enemy territory."

"No, you're not," Topper dismissed my concerns, but even in his attempt to comfort, a lingering tension persisted.

While I had chosen to embrace a Pogue lifestyle and defy the Kook label, I knew that, deep down, my brother hadn't dismissed me completely yet. His acceptance might have been elusive, but familial ties held steadfast.

"Let's ask them," I suggested, mustering a soft smile. "If they could, they would put my head on a stick."

"You might be right," Topper joked, attempting to ease the palpable unease.

A brief silence hung between us, and as the tension subsided, I couldn't help but seek the real reason for my brother's summons. "So what's the real reason I'm here?"

"I haven't seen you in days, Amelia," Topper admitted, a genuine note of concern in his voice. "And maybe I just wanted to spend some time with you before you go running off again."

"And out of all the places, you picked the Camerons to spend time with me?" I inquired, puzzled by his choice.

"You are one of us, Lia," Topper asserted, a sentiment that clashed with my newfound identity.

"No, Topper, I'm not," I argued. "You guys made that clear when I started hanging out with the Pogues."

"These... Pogues, they're all just—" Topper began, expressing a sentiment that fuelled my frustration.

"Are you serious right now?" I interrupted, my anger simmering. "How long do you plan on living in this fantasy of yours? The world doesn't revolve around Kooks. Wake the hell up!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Topper responded sarcastically. "I'm sorry that they put a gun to my head. You know what that feels like?"

"No, but I'm glad that you can tell me," I replied coldly, my patience wearing thin. "But it seems that you're so wrapped up in your privileged bubble and prejudiced Pogue hatred that you can't see past your own nose."

My accusations hung in the air, and I couldn't help but remind him of a harsh truth. "And it seems that you're forgetting who threw the first punch."

"That's my bad, that's my— I deserved that," he admitted sarcastically.

"My God, Topper," I rubbed my face, exasperated. "You need to grow up. There are real problems out there, and you're—"

"You're realizing that I'm just trying to protect you, right?" Topper interjected, attempting to justify his stance.