LOST IN THE WAVES

Under the surface

Days turned into weeks, and Ryan continued to hide her pain. The Pogues dove headfirst into planning their next adventure, a treasure hunt through an abandoned Kook mansion, and Ryan played along, masking her turmoil behind laughter and excitement. Each day was a careful balancing act, a performance that felt increasingly exhausting.

The mansion stood like a ghost of the past, its crumbling facade a stark reminder of the divisions that lay between the Kooks and the Pogues. As they explored the sprawling property, Ryan felt a sense of dread creeping in. The walls seemed to close around her, the echoes of her father's anger reverberating in her mind.

"This place is incredible!" Kiara exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder as they stepped inside. The dust danced in the shafts of light streaming through broken windows, and the air felt heavy with history.

"Let's split up and see what we can find!" John B. suggested, excitement radiating from him. "There's got to be something here worth a fortune!"

Ryan forced herself to join in, nodding along as they separated into different rooms. She wandered through the mansion, the old wood creaking under her feet. Each step felt like a reminder of the life she was trying to escape. Memories flashed before her—her father's face twisted in rage, the sound of shattering glass, the feel of bruising hands. She shook her head, willing herself to focus.

In one of the rooms, she found an old trunk covered in dust. As she opened it, a wave of nostalgia hit her. Inside lay an assortment of relics—maps, letters, and trinkets that seemed to tell a story long forgotten. "This is amazing!" she exclaimed, trying to focus on the moment, the thrill of discovery washing over her.

"Right? We're going to be rich!" JJ grinned, but his eyes held a deeper concern as he stepped closer, watching her closely. "You sure you're okay, Ry?"

"I'm fine," she lied, the words tasting even more bitter this time. She could feel the worry radiating from him, and it only made her want to retreat further into her shell.

That night, as she lay in bed, the darkness crept back in. A flash of anger from her father—a broken promise, a bruised wrist—sent her spiraling. Desperation clawed at her, and she picked up her phone, her fingers trembling as she typed a message to JJ. "I need help."

But just as she hit send, a wave of fear washed over her. Would he understand? Would he think she was weak? Her finger hovered over the screen, and finally, she deleted the message, drowning in despair. The fear of burdening him with her chaos was greater than the desire for help.

The following day, the Pogues continued their preparations for the treasure hunt, excitement buzzing in the air. Yet, Ryan felt increasingly detached, caught in a cycle of guilt and fear. She forced herself to laugh along with them, but the laughter felt hollow.

"Are you sure you're alright?" JJ asked again, pulling her aside during a break in their planning. "You seem different lately."

"Just tired, I guess," she replied, avoiding his gaze. The lie hung heavy between them, and she could see the concern etched on his face. "I'll be fine."

But as they geared up for the hunt, Ryan felt the pressure of her secrets closing in on her. Each day was a struggle, and the facade she wore felt more fragile than ever.