𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 - JJ Maybank

Chapter 128: MTV Cribs

Buzz.

Buzz.

Grace groaned as she rolled over in her sheets, fingers clumsily searching for the source of the unwelcome wake-up call. It was one of the few times she actually got any sleep without visions of the past intruding and shaking her from her slumber.

The room was dark. The curtains were pulled tightly shut, with the light switch turning dusty from neglect. 

The shine of her phone was piercing as it interrupted the greyness. Grace squinted, barely able to read out the many text messages that continued to pile up. 

They were all from the Pogues. 

She rolled her bloodshot eyes. It had been nearly three months of constant messages saying they just wanted to "check in" or "see how you're doing." They just wouldn't give up.

Sighing, she slid her phone open. One message. She could grant herself the luxury of reading one message from them.

Sare-Bear: JB, JJ, and I are starting work on the nursery today! I could use your help picking out paint colours. You should swing by. I'd love to see you <3

They kept doing that. They would give her little updates on their lives like she was a soldier shipped off to war, desperate for a taste of home.

Grace bit her already chapped lips roughly. Her eyes would be welling up if they weren't so dry from sleep deprivation.

Shaking her head, she blinked hard. 

Just as she was about to turn off her phone, two pings came through from her sister in quick succession.

Sare-Bear: I can see you read my message. Please call me. We don't even have to talk. I just want to know you're okay. 

Sare-Bear: I love you.

Grace stared at her phone, blue light burning into her eyes. That wasn't typical. They'd started out like that—asking if she was okay or begging her to come back to them. But their strategy had long since shifted to their little tales of what they'd done that day, trying to keep it light and casual as if nothing was wrong.

She read and reread the messages before quickly tossing her phone onto her bed and peeling herself off the mattress. Her feet padded across the cold floor as she made her way to the washroom.

Her reflection was barely recognizable. Her skin was dull and lifeless, eyes red and rimmed with purple circles. Her hair was greasy and tugged up into a sad excuse of a bun. She didn't know the last time she changed her shirt.

Her gaze didn't linger on the mirror. Instead, she splashed some cold water on her face in an effort to return feeling to her all-encompassing numbness. 

After reheating day-old coffee and grabbing a joint from her stash, Grace sat herself down on the back porch steps and stared out at the marsh. 

It was a sunny afternoon. The trees were changing to warm orange and red tones, and the water was having some well-deserved quiet after the busy summer rush of tourists.

Putting the joint between her lips, Grace flicked the lighter and brought the blunt to life. Warm smoke filled her lungs as she inhaled. It spread throughout her body and slowed her constantly racing heart.

She let herself lie back on the splintered wood of her childhood home's porch, arms going limp by her side, joint steaming between her fingers.

___________

Rafe didn't know how he had changed so drastically throughout the span of his 23 years of life. He had no clue how he went from a little kid with too much energy—constantly bouncing off the walls and driving his father mad—to a middle-schooler who always held his head high and proudly led his posse around the schoolyard. He didn't know how it was possible to so quickly shift from a typical teenager desperate for his father's approval to a killer. But what he really didn't understand was how he had done all of that and was now somehow on the verge of getting married and settling down for a rather regular life.