𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 - kiara carrera¹

𝒙𝒍𝒗. 𝒘𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒖𝒑

SHE WAS DREAMING AGAIN. DREAMING OF HER.

Thirty years old, and sipping from large, fancy gin glasses on their very own private yacht, Tatum and Kiara smiled at each other. After they got the gold, the pouges went off and lead their very own rich lives, meeting up with each other every weekend. JJ had his own dirtbiking TV show, and lived in a luxury mansion in Costa Rica. Thomas and Pope were high up in the government and politics, bathing in unbelievable wealth and fame. John B and Sarah had private lives, and the most beautiful old-money home in Oregon with a large family and plenty of love. And Kiara and Tatum had just adopted their first child, while being environmental activists via social media, and travelling all over the world with their beautiful son. This was their future - the future they would have if they got the gold.

"I love you," whispered Kiara. Only, it wasn't her voice.

Everything around Tatum began to blur. Kiara faded away. Her baby faded away. She shook her head. She didn't want to go; she wanted to stay. She was too tired - she wanted to rest.

"I love you," the voice whispered again. Tatum recognised it, but still, she did not swim to it. She clung onto the yacht that was slowly disappearing, desperately freeing herself from life.

"Tatum...please."

She shook her head again. The yacht was almost gone. One single streak of colour was like the whole world for the girl's hope. She wanted to stay. She didn't want to go back into the cold - that world wasn't for her, and she didn't want to go back ever.

Then the luxury boat was gone, and she was thrown into the whirlpool of the life she did not want.

Slowly, Tatum's neck began to twitch. "No, no," she mumbled, shaking her head. "No, take me back."

John B sobbed in relief, resting his head in the crook of her neck, tears still streaming down his face.

"What's going on?!" called JJ, his voice sore and croaky.

"Yeah, what the fuck's happening?!" demanded Thomas, trying to hide the pain in his voice.

"Tate...she's not...?" Pope was shaking his head in denial.

John B lifted the girl up again. Her eyes were open, but not lively as they normally were. "Take me back...kill me," she was mumbling.

Cupping her cheeks with his rough, dirty hands, John B shook his head. "She's alive," he whispered. "She's back."

Tatum looked around, finally taking in her surroundings and what was going on. She was in the well again. She was seven years old and being tortured by her father again. She just wanted to go back to the yacht.

Blood trickled down her head from the impact of her fall. John B wrapped his dad's bandana over it, the way Pope had told him to minutes ago - when they thought she was dead. "Yeah, you're probably concussed," he told her with a light smile, his tears trying up and sticking to his face.

"Take me back," she finally spoke, earning everybody's attention. She shook John B. "I want to go back."

"Back where?" he asked softly, taking her hands off his chest and holding them gently.

"Dead."

"What the fuck is wrong with her, Routledge?" asked Thomas from high above them. He turned to the blonde boy, who was still shamelessly sobbing. "If she's brain dead, you're dead-dead."

The girl swayed a little as she stood up by herself. John B was quick to support her. "She's...she's fine," he assured, though he wasn't quite sure himself, considering the girl was now kicking the water and screaming like an infant. If Mrs Crain was alive, she was definitely awake now.

He furrowed his brows and looked into it. Because of the blood and moss and darkness, the water was not as clear as it should've been, and he could not see a thing through it. If he had known what he was about to pick up, he definitely would not have stuck his hand down there.

This time, he was the one screaming when he held up a rotting head. Great. He was carrying one of Nathan Quinn's many victims.

And it only made Tatum cry more. "I want to go back to the boat," she sobbed. "Take me back."

John B nodded, his eyes darting between the girl and the rope, holding onto her shoulder. "All right, bring it down a bit," he ordered the boys above. "Screw the gold - we're coming up."

Even though he wanted to find that gold for his father more than anything, his friends would always be more important. Because, like his dad, his friends were his family, and Tatum Quinn was his sister. And he needed to make sure she was safe.

He helped the dosey girl onto the rope and told her to swing on it, rather than climb up - the three boys could easily hold and carry her weight - and he'd come up after, staying at the bottom incase she fell again.

Pope, JJ and Thomas went back to their stations without another thought. They didn't mess around and get cocky this time. Carefully focusing on their task, the three boys heaved the girl up.

"Wait," she mumbled, feeling over the rock on the well. Everybody paused, waiting. They didn't know what she was doing. John B had his arms out, standing at the bottom of the well, prepared to catch her to safety. Tatum let go of one hand, hanging on the rope by a single grip. The rocks in front of her were hollow. How had she never noticed this before? The girl positioned her arm back and launched her fist through the wall. "I found something," she revealed, rubbing the ache of her head, instantly regretting it when she upset her deep wound. "I found something."

"Tate, what are you doing?" asked John B calmly as she began to crawl through the hole she made. "Tate?" She had disappeared.

"Routledge, what the fuck is my sister doing?" asked Thomas frustratedly, feeling that all of the weight had been taken off the rope.

"Bring it down again, I'm going to check," he answered curiously.

Crawling through the sandy, dark space she had found, Tatum forced herself not to collapse. Everything was shaky, and she couldn't see or think straight. She ignored all the distant calls of all the boys, and kept going. The grazes in her legs, the cuts in her arms, the blisters in her feet - all wounds were being sprinkled with a mixture of mud and sand, shooting hissing pains through her body. But though she knew it was happening, Tatum couldn't feel a thing.

"Tate, you good?" asked John B, climbing into the hole she had discovered. He looked around in amazement. Apparently brain damage gave her more brains than she already had. Which was none. She had never been  the smartest of the bunch.

"John B?!" Pope called in panic, his voice echoing through the well. Nobody knew what was going on.

"Give us a minute. Hold on." He tried to catch up to Tate, but she wasn't stopping for anyone.

Tatum giggled as she fell down into a larger space, hitting her head once again, sending a fuzzy pain through her body. She ran her fingers through the mud carelessly, feeling a chunk of smooth rock.

Behind her, John B tumbled into the small, derelict secret room. He turned on his flashlight, and directed it at Tatum. Or rather what she was holding. "The gold," he whispered, holding her shoulders before she fell down again. "You found the gold, Tate."

A/n: so the hot tub scene is next episode. should i keep it as jj, or change it to either thomas or tatum?