SINCERELY, YOUR DARLA. || ~ jj maybank.

🌹 | where it went downhill. (15)

"I heard the door open at like, 2 hours after I got home." I hear her quietly say.

"Wait, what time did she get home last night?" I whisper.

"We all got home at around 12 midnight." John b whispers back.

"Okay, Darla. Thank you. We will be back in with you in 10 minutes. Just stay put." The officers tell her, and we hear them walk outside of the house, closing the door behind them.

We start to hear little sobs in the living room.

"Darla!" I whisper.

Pope grabs my face.

"Get-get off!" I grumble.

"Shut up! There's probably still cops in there, bro." Pope whispers.

"Jj? Pope?" We hear Darla say.

I rush out from behind the door.

"Darla- dude!" I say, running over to her.

I give her the hugest, tightest hug ever.

She backs away from my arms, I see her face gone red from crying.

"What- what's going on, why are the cops here?" John b asks, running over.

"My mom, shes just gone." She sobs.

"Gone? What do you mean gone, like she left?" Pope asks.

"Them fuckers don't know anything about her disappearance, They're not doing their fucking job properly." She cries.

"Did she leave a note, anything?" I ask.

"No, nothing. All her clothes are still here. She's literally gone without a trace. None of her DNA on the doorknob.. nothing. Everything's as it was." She says, calming herself down.

"The cops said you're leaving, where are you going?" Pope asks.

"Leaving? I'm not leaving. I'm not going anywhere without my mom back here." Darla shakes her head.

"That Shoupe guy said you're leaving, though." John b shrugged.

Suddenly, the social workers come in the door again.

"Hey! You three! Where'd you come from!" They yell.

Our eyes widen as they run towards us, grabbing us.

"Hey! Stop- they're my friends, stop it!" I hear Darla yell.

They look behind at Darla. "Will you cooperate if we let them stay?"

She sighs. "Fine! Just- just put them down!"

They let go of us, and walk over to Darla.

"Okay, we're going to need you to get some clothes. You're going to be staying somewhere else until we have your mom back here." The workers tell her.

"What? No! I'm not leaving the OBX, you can't just do that!" She screams.

"You're not leaving the Outer Banks, don't worry. You just won't be staying here. We have no one to care for you here. And you're thirteen, you can't live on your own."

"I'm well capable of living on my own, arent I?" She turns for us to back her up.

"Very responsible."
"Yep, mature for her age."
"I sometimes mistaken her for 18."

She turns back around. "See? And one of them is 14. He even said I'm responsible."

The social workers shake their heads. "That's not how it works, I'm afraid. You're not staying here."