08. runaway

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⋆⁺。˚⋆˙‧₊ runaway ☾₊‧˙⋆˚。⁺⋆

PLEASE DONT BE A GHOST READER!COMMENT AND VOTE! IT HELPS US WRITERS STAY MOTIVATED:)

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PLEASE DONT BE A GHOST READER!
COMMENT AND VOTE! IT HELPS US WRITERS STAY MOTIVATED:)

the reason i always say "please don't be a ghost reader" this isnt just because i want votes, i mean i do, but ive been writing on this app for 3 almost 4 years and it helps me stay motivated because that means people are reading my stuff. and unlike other people, they have so many views on their books and i know my writing isnt the best but i love to write and it just helps me stay motivated. and i know i unpublish and republish my chapters and i get thats really annoying

SEASON EPISODE 4 PART 1

As John B steered the boat toward the dock, his jaw was clenched, his disappointment palpable in the silence between him and Clara. The last few hours had been a crushing blow-they'd come so close to finding the Royal Merchant, only to realize it wasn't there, or worse, that someone had already claimed it. Clara, meanwhile, wasn't sure what to feel. The treasure hunt had been John B's obsession, his beacon of hope. Seeing that hope dim was unsettling.

When the boat finally pulled in, John B jumped out, grabbing his backpack, barely saying a word. Clara followed suit, her mind churning as she watched John B's frustrated stride up the path to the Chateau. The setting sun cast long shadows over the place, but before they could even reach the front door, a voice broke the quiet.

"Hey, kids."

The words froze them both in place, prickling the hairs on Clara's arms. They turned toward the source and saw Cheryl, the social worker, sitting on the battered old couch in the living room. She looked right at them, her expression unreadable but stern.

John B rolled his eyes, his expression twisting in frustration. "You know, Cheryl, it's kind of a bad time for a check-in," he said as he tossed his backpack to the floor with a heavy thud.

Cheryl's voice, calm but unyielding, cut through the air. "Not a check-in. We're here to take you, John B."

Her words landed like a punch to the gut. Clara shot a shocked look at John B, her mind racing. "Just John B?" Clara managed, stepping forward, fear flashing in her eyes. "What about me?"

"You," Cheryl answered, her gaze unwavering, "you're going back to the group home."

Clara's heart sank, a wave of panic crashing over her. She'd fought so hard to escape the cold, indifferent walls of the group home. She thought she was finally free, that she'd found a family with John B and their friends. The thought of going back there, to that life-she couldn't bear it.

Before she fully processed her decision, she bolted. With a sharp intake of breath, Clara grabbed her backpack, threw the door open, and sprinted out of the Chateau, her heart pounding in her chest. Her feet flew across the yard, and in one swift motion, she snatched her bike from where it leaned against the fence.

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄| Sarah CameronWhere stories live. Discover now