𝐍𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘, 𝐍𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄 - kiara carrera²

𝒙𝒊𝒗. 𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌

However, Pope didn't notice it, too distracted by his own anxiety. But JJ was right; he had to do this. He had to man up and do this, whether it would mean Tatum would hate him forever or not. He probably deserved it after what he did, but he wasn't sure if he could life a life without this girl. His sister.

"Hey, uh, could we talk?"

Tatum nodded eagerly, rubbing her eyes and masking the tears of her short wave of panic. "Hmm. Sure. What's up?"

This was it. This was what he had been making himself sick for weeks for. Pope swallowed down his guilty bile once again and clenched his jaw before opening his mouth, his stomach full of angry, bad butterflies. "A little while ago, when we thought you were dead, me and Kie...we were both really high, and..." Nope. He could not say it. He could not get those words out.

"And what?" asked Tatum, genuinely confused - she didn't catch on very easily. He needed to hurry up and spit the words out, because the tree in front of her, and the faces painted beneath it, was looking particularly interesting to her right now, and she wasn't sure how long she could keep herself focused before her mind switched up on her like it always did.

"Me and Kie, we..." He took a large gulp, watching the girl's enchanting, blue eyes dart back and forth from him and some strange tree. "We had sex."

Her face dropped. Pope shut his eyes, bracing for the impact of a hard fist. He'd received multiple beatings from Joseph Quinn back when he was alive, but rumour had it that he had the weakest deck of the pack. And he knew from spectating a lot of fights that the girl Quinn had a mighty swing on her.

But nothing came.

Absolutely nothing.

He waited a little longer. Wondering.

Then she giggled. Gripped her hair. Swung her head back and forth. And tugged.

She didn't know what to do. Her mind was screaming so many words at her.

Kill Pope. Stab him. Watch the blood trickle down his chest.

Torture Pope. Skin him down with the sharp blade of an apple peeler.

Drown Pope. Force the air out of his lungs.

Bury Pope. Leave him underground. Drive him to instantly. Lock him in a small box. Wait for him to starve to death full of paranoia.

She smashed her fists off her head until they were painted in a fresh coat of vermilion. She yanked her hair until she held handfuls of the brown locks. She giggled hysterically until her voice croaked, died.

This was it. This was what would make Tatum Quinn lose her mind. Everyone knew that. Everyone knew the consequences of her leaving Kiara.

She was suddenly in hot water. Not a sound to be heard. Tight arms strangling her wrists, forcing her blood to stop running, her hands turning purple.

JJ didn't care how hard her was holding her, he didn't care if it hurt. He held her close under the water, praying that she didn't make a sound.

They knew they were here. They knew they were back.

Tatum curiously lifted her head above the water, her eyes peeking out at what was going on outside.

Everyone was hiding in a tree? Sarah and John B looked down at her with the most desperate, worried looks she had ever seen. Pope couldn't even look her in the eye, tears streaming down his eyes when he thought of the pain he was putting her mind through. He didn't have an excuse to why he did what he did, and he hated himself the moment it was over, he hated himself while it was happening, but he still continued. And now he had to watch his sister ruin herself because she lost her only anchor, thanks to him.