riptide- outer banks

109 | what was left to rot still bleeds

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JJ wasn't her brother.

She had repeated it over and over again in her mind, trying to make it seem real. But it didn't. It felt like a betrayal, a death, and a rebirth all at once. And it hurt. God, it hurt. Luke and Carrie weren't his parents. They were hers and somehow, that hurt more.

Kori had tightly gripped the steering wheel as she'd driven, feeling utterly exhausted after the past seven hours. The road had blurred after she'd passed the state line, trees and streaking lights bleeding together. And after hour five, the speed limit no longer mattered. Her breaths had just kept coming and she had just kept driving. There was just pressure. There were just questions.

And she needed answers.

It had always been her and JJ against the world. That didn't seem real anymore though. Nothing did. Everything they'd been through–the pain, the fights, the survival, the love–had flashed through her mind, only fueling the fire raging within her. He had always been her big brother, her protector, and her home. And now, to find out he wasn't her blood?

What did that make her? A lie? A mistake?

Part of her had wanted to drive off the road. She hadn't though. She'd had countless chances, but she hadn't taken them. Another part of her had wanted to scream. She'd definitely let out a few of those in the past seven hours she'd had to herself to think. Other parts of her had wanted to laugh– as if this was some cruel and sick joke. She hadn't done that.

Most of all, she wanted answers. Kori knew she was spiraling, that she was doing something incredibly reckless and stupid. But she hadn't stopped herself. She could've turned around at any point in the past seven hours, but she hadn't done that. She hadn't done that because everything she'd ever known–everything she'd ever built herself on–had just shattered.

And what she needed right now was the truth.

Kori's hands remained in her lap as she waited. Her eyes were pinned on the wall in front of her, unmoving. It was odd really, considering how nervous she was. The way that she was composed was strikingly opposite to how conflicted she truly was. To how utterly terrified she was as she sat at the slate gray table situated in the corner of the room.

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, room buzzing with quiet voices. They were all around her, only furthering her anxiety. Her knee began to bob up and down, the wait unbearable. It'd been ten minutes though. Only ten and she was restless. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe–

When the sound of a door opening from behind her echoed through the air, she froze. She could hear faint footsteps on the floor, but she didn't move because she just knew. Letting out a breath, she waited until it happened. She waited until a correctional officer had stopped to the right of her and she heard the smallest of inhales.

"Kori..."

She said nothing. She just stared numbly ahead as her mom slowly slid into the seat across from her. Despite her age, the woman was still beautiful. With graying blonde hair and deep blue eyes lined with regret, it was Carrie. It was the woman that'd left her almost eleven years ago.

The woman she hadn't seen since.

Kori kept her gaze on her mother, almost studying the shock in her expression. "I'm surprised you recognize me."

Carrie's head tilted, an unclear look crossing her face. "You're my daughter. Of course I recognize you."

Kori half-grinned, bitterly and brazenly. "Well, it has been almost eleven years. So forgive me if I'm surprised."