𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 - kiara carrera¹

𝒙𝒙𝒊. 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓

"WHAT'S THIS, RIGHT HERE?"

Tatum sat back on the deck, ignoring everyone as they watched John B and Kiara through the underwater drone. If it were two weeks ago, she wouldn't be able to take her eyes off the screen - off Kie's bearly clothed body, her wet hair, her beautiful, sweet, dazzling smile. But she couldn't think about any of that anymore. Everytime her mind betrayed her and replayed the good memories she had with these people, she had to scold herself, just like Kiara used to, and remind herself of the cold, harsh truth. These people didn't care about her. For years. Until last week, when she finally broke down. And only because of that breakdown, they felt guilty, and finally started trying to care for and include her. Before then, she was simply just an annoying tag along that almost died for them. She deserved better; she knew that now. But it was so hard to be herself when she had only ever been that person when she was with her friends. And now she had lost herself, and she didn't see Tatum coming back anytime soon.

Pope slapped the blonde's hand. "Don't touch that." He turned around to face the girl, his hard face turning soft in sympathy. She hated it. If they really knew her, they would've known how much she hated being a victim. It made her icky and uncomfortable. But of course, they didn't know that. "I can't believe you didn't go in with them. You always go in."

She looked back at him blankly. She didn't say a word. The pink gun, that caused all of these problems, peaked out of the pocket of her shorts. Pope looked at it. She smirked, reminded of the way he watched her in fear and caution. It once hurt her, but it didn't anymore. He should be scared. He should be careful around her. She was a Quinn, and that was how to world worked for them.

"I'm still trying to work out this thing," he muttered, turning to JJ and slapping his hand away from the computer-thing again. Tatum honestly had no idea what was going on; she was only there for the money. Not because she felt terrible for John B and the loss of his father, or anything. And certainly not to be there incase the group got into any trouble, and ended up hurt or shot. Definitely not. She did not care for them. At all. In the slightest.

"Good bless geeks, Pope," commented JJ, watching the screen without blinking. Kiara was the cover of it. Smiling and laughing, free under the water where she felt truly safe and herself. She was truly beautiful. Tatum didn't look. She could not look. If she looked - her digestive system tangled and knotted together. "Truly, man. What would we do without you to control the drones?"

John B and Kiara burst through the surface of the water with a gasp of air. They were so happy. This surely must've brought Tatum to her senses - she was definitely sitting at that deck, wishing she had went under with them. That was her favourite thing, after all - the thrill and the adrenaline. But when they looked up at the deck, she was still sitting behind the two boys, staring into space with that same plain look on her face.

"Technically, it's not a drone," Pope pointed out, trying to provoke Tatum into teasing him for his nerdiness. "It's an ROV."

"Shut up. Shut up," said JJ, rubbing his temples, reminded of the aching hangover he had from the previous night of booze and bitches. "Its too early for that right now."

"Hey, look, once we get footage of the wreck, we'll bring it to a lawyer in town and file a formal claim," John B spoke up, still holding himself up above the water.

"It's such bullshit," said JJ. He turned around to face the zombie-girl. "Right, Tate?" She didn't look up. She didn't respond. She continued to stare ahead. "Why do we have to do that?"

Kiara watched it. Watched her. Everytime she looked at Tatum - the new Tatum - her heart broke a little bit more. She could feel it physically. The twists and the turns of her organs, the pain in her chest, the hitches of her breath, the sting of her cheek - she just wanted the girl back. The girl who loved her, the girl who would do anything for her, the girl she should've appreciated more. It killed Kiara Carrera to think that she had a part to play in the death of her Tatum Quinn. Because she loved that Tatum Quinn, and she was too late to realise it.

"Well, there is maritime salvage law," said Pope, resting his arms on the wooden railing. "You can't just go to the ocean floor and scoop a bunch of stuff up."

"I know. I know. It's just lawyers aren't cheap, bro," JJ stated frustratedly. At the mention of a lawyer, everyone turned back to look at the girl. Her court date was set for a few weeks from now. She killed someone. Murded, witbout an ounce of empathy. But they weren't scared of her. Not anymore. She was their friend and they loved her; she would never put them in harm's way.

Kie's parents agreed to help out, but at the moment, Tatum wasn't cooperating in the slightest. And her dad wasn't having it at all. He wanted her to go to jail for murder. He wanted his daughter to take that charge. It would do better for their reputation. And they needed better, now that Joseph was dead and exposed for being gay, because apparently, that made him less scary. It was a bunch of bullshit. But Kie could not have Tatum spend the rest of her life in prison. She was too good to throw away her life like that. She could be a teacher, a social worker, a writer - she was a good person. Her family weren't, and they were corrupting her into thinking she was bad, too.

"Well, as soon as they see the footage, they'll work for a comp," John B said confidently, because he needed this. It wasn't about the money to him; it was about his father. He needed to know what really happened.

"How do you know all that?" asked Kiara with a large smile, trying her hardest to to get Tatum to acknowledge her. At least she looked at the boys. The two girls hadn't made eye contact since Kie visited Tate in juvie. And the image had been trapped in her mind every night since, keeping her awake in worry, and haunting her nightmares when she finally drifted off, after hours of tossing and turning.

"'Cause my dad said it, like, a million times," he answered simply. Pope looked down, convinced this whole thing was a waste of time.

"Yeah, that's fair," said Kiara supportively, climbing up the ladder to the deck.

"This tether is, like, really long," Pope pointed out. "In the wrong weather, it could get pushed around."

"Then we'll go at dead calm," said John B.

As if it were waiting for a cue, thunder rumbled in the distance. "A slack tide?" Kie said, unable to take her eyes off Tatum, who wasn't blinking anymore. She was staring. At nothing. In her own world. Kiara would do anything to know what was going on inside her mind right now.

"So now, we just gotta wait around for the right weather," Pope told them smartly. He leaned back onto the railing and looked up at the sky, darkening and ready to battle with the earth; like Tatum. "And today is not that day."

A/n: I honestly don't even know if 'nerdiness' is a word. And again, I'm sorry for how dramatic everything is rn, but all fics are dramatic so like yeah. But I'm terrible at writing sad people cause it just makes me cringe. I think I relate to tatum too much.