Letters She Wrote | Outer Banks

𝐯𝐢. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

[ vi. the price of retribution ]

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MUCH TO HER INITIAL distaste, Kiara Carrera had a surprise change of heart and ultimately agreed to take Willa Deveraux to the south end of the island, deep into the Cut, to where only the former knew of JJ Maybank's current whereabouts.

In the moment—reeling in her groggy grief and overwhelming anger, all the while embarrassingly breaking down in her own driveway for all kook eyes to see—Willa was rather relieved that Kiara had otherwise been so understanding of Willa's situation, even if it still had gone against her own better judgement. Without any questions at all, Kiara had offered to take her to the Cut, had assured that she would get to see JJ, even if she could also only promise that the fallout of their clashing was one guaranteed to end in disaster.

In the moment, that vow had been enough for Willa. Actually, it had been more than enough for Willa. But that moment of promised retribution had long since vanished with the distance that Willa now had to cross to get to JJ.

With no cars, no bikes, no scooters or skateboards to help the girls on their way down the long winding roads that stretched to nearly every surface of the island, Willa was very much starting to regret her adventuresome little tirade.

Because Willa Deveraux had lived in the Outer Banks for her whole life, she found that she very rarely ever became distracted by the heat anymore. The humidity and mosquitoes and the blistering summer heat had long since become a part of the girl. In the summertime, she did not bother with makeup, knowing that her sweet, natural sweaty sheen was highlight enough. Willa had also long since accepted that her body would always be clammy, and that her bare arms and legs would always be riddled with mosquito bites. But while even the luxurious Deveraux home could not always keep itself clean of the bloodsucking insects, there were still definitely some advantages to living in the Figure Eight during the hotter months. Not only did Willa have fresh water, abundant patches of shade, and air conditioning, but she also had an entire ocean only a couple hundred yards from her backdoor that she could easily dive into to cool off.

Now, though, standing in the middle of a desolate, blistering hot road with no water, no shade, no air conditioning—nothing at all—to keep herself cool and with no ocean in sight, Willa was finally this close to losing it.

Less than an hour had passed since Willa and Kiara had left the former kook's property and had headed off in the direction of the swampy, overheated marshes of the Cut. Willa's flannel was now wrapped loosely around her waist and a small pool of sweat clung to the small of her back, seeping into her gray tank top. Her feet were also throbbing, her soft soles screaming against the agonizing rub that was the bottoms of her feet against the felt and leather of her sandals. She had only just begun to break her Birkenstocks in and the further she walked the more it now felt like the shoes were beginning to break her in.