𝐍𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘, 𝐍𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄 - kiara carrera²

𝒙𝒗𝒊𝒊𝒊. 𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇-𝒑𝒊𝒕𝒚

"I DON'T CARE IF SHE'S NOT ALLOWED VISITORS RIGHT NOW - I JUST WANT TO KNOW THAT SHE IS OKAY!"

Standing and screaming at the man behind the front desk, Kiara Carrera slammed her hands off the wooden surface. She hadn't slept in days. John B's court trial had just went to shit, and now they were finding out Tatum was living in Psychoville.

After the manic teenage girl slit her own throat, her ex-girlfriend refused to leave her hospital room for days. She slapped her own mother across the face for slyly suggesting that maybe Tatum deserved to be in the state she was. Kiara would never, ever let anyone talk on Tatum Quinn like that. This was all her fault - all of it - and she would do absolutely anything to get her girl back.

"Kie, let's go - we can see her in two days," said JJ gloomily. He hadn't spoken all that much the past few days his best friends had been sentenced and hospitalised. It was no secret that the three of them were closer than all the others. 'The tro of immaturity' was what all the teachers called them. And after weeks of thinking they were dead, weeks of being fuelled up on constant anger, JJ finally got his siblings back. Then, within one night, one stupid fucking night, he lost them both again.

When the boy tried touching her shoulder, she shoved him off. "No!" Kiara shook her head stubbornly, glaring into the eye of the receptionist. "I need to see her now! I need to know she's okay - that she's getting better! Just give her these at least, she can't sleep without them!" She threw a box onto the desk, it was only a plain, cardboard one, but the things inside were priceless to the Quinn girl. All Thomas' old tees. The only things she had left of him other than her letter.

The receptionist shook his head. "I'm sorry, but given your friend's state, she isn't permitted to receive home gifts."

"Fuck you!" Kiara shouted, kicking in through the wood with strength she never knew she had. She needed to see Tatum. Not to apologise - she knew her apologies meant shit. She needed to know her girl was alive, though. That she wasn't going to hurt herself at any chance she was given. That she wasn't broken.

And Kiara didn't need to know this because she felt guilty, which she did - she wasn't sure if she had ever felt so bad in her whole life - but she needed to know for her own mind. She did a horrid, inexcusable thing when she was heartbroken and intoxicated, because she thought the love of her life had died. It was wrong and it was selfish and she didn't even know why she did it. But the moment it was over, even while it was happening, she was filled with guilt and self-hatred. Because she loved the fucking hell out of Tatum Quinn, and she was crushed to think she was dead. Everyone does reckless, cruel things when they're heartbroken, and unfortunately Kiara wasn't the exception. She had sex with Pope. She had sex with her girlfriend's best friend. The boy who Tatum's dead brother was in love with. And she would never forgive herself for it. But right now, all she needed to know was that that girl was okay. That the people here were taking proper care of her. That she was getting the help she needed. That she was healthy. Because Kiara wasn't sure how much longer she could keep thinking of the what if's.

What if Tatum really died? What if Tatum really killed herself because of her?

And the thought that she had put the girl she loved more than anything through that mindset made Kiara Carrera physically sick. She wasn't leaving this building until she seen Tatum Quinn.

JJ sighed and held the girl back before she lashed out at the receptionist and became a patient of this hell herself.

"Hey! Hey, man! Someone's in the bathroom - he's got a knife!" a new voice called, running towards them with panic and sweat.

Without another word, the man behind the desk jumped up and grabbed hold of a walkie-talkie, leaving the maim entrance to make his way to the boys' set of bathrooms.

JJ and Kie raised their brows at Pope's smart distraction. The last few days had been a nightmare for the small group of kids. Literal children going through the things most people didn't expirience in three lifetimes. Hospital visits to see a sleeping Tatum undergo surgery, court dates to watch an innocent John B get sentenced, rebels and heartbreaks against families and blood. But the only thing that had been a constant on Pope Heyward's mind was the girl he almost dragged to suicide. His best friend. His sister. The same girl who had stood up to every single bully that had picked on him when they were young kids. The same girl that almost died for him and their friends countless times. The same girl who had the dead brother he quickly fell in love with. He pushed that girl to her breaking point, knowing the consequences, but he did it anyway. And he would never forgive himself for it.

He jumped behind the desk and swiftly tapped his fingers against the computer's keyboard, searching for the Qs. "Here!" he exclaimed, pointing at the small screen.

𝚀𝚄𝙸𝙽𝙽, 𝚃𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚖: 𝙰𝙳𝙷𝙳, 𝙿𝚃𝚂𝙳, 𝙱𝚒𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝙰𝚗𝚝𝚒-𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚁𝚘𝚘𝚖 47

𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁𝙾𝚄𝚂

"Tate's not anti-social," stated JJ in confusion, staring at the bright screen. "She talks to everybody."

Pope shook his head. "It's a nicer way of saying sociopathy," he told them grimly. Tatum was not a sociopath. He hated the way people thought of her now. How the people on the streets were angry when the knife didn't go deep enough. Pope felt murderous everytime somebody whispered her name with disgust. Because he knew that person wasn't the same as the girl he grew up with - who protected him over and over again. He made this girl - this unrecognisable killer - he made her when he slept with her girlfriend. He would make things right. He swore to himself that somehow he would. He would do anything. He would let her plunge a knife into his chest if that's what she wanted. He would do anything. Anything for Tatum's forgiveness.

"This is such bullshit!" huffed Kiara. "Why would they say that about her? She's not...she's not like that. She's good. And I ruined her."

"Yeah, you did," muttered JJ bitterly, rolling his eyes at her self-pity. He hadn't been rude to the two of them exactly. He was the one who encouraged Pope to tell the girl, and he took his blame for that. And he needed to stick be their sides because they all needed each other during this hard time. But he still stuck to the promise that he would not completely forgive either of them until he heard Tatum say it herself. Team Tatum for life - that was where he stood at the moment. "Simple. Let's go to her room."

"It's not that simple," Pope argued with logic. "Breaking John B out of prison would be easier than breaking Tate out of here."

Kiara huffed and ran an angry, stressed hand through her hair. "Where'd Sarah go?"

"Toilet."

"She should be back by now."

Then they heard it. The tap of important heels. The walk of confidence. Sarah's wide, beady eyes as she skipped towards them.

"I seen Tatum," she whispered, like the statement wasn't completely obvious. "She's getting out...with Limbrey."

The rich, blonde, crimpled woman walked by with self-righteousness, ahead of the six guards behind her. But what was standing inbetween those guards was what caught the pouges' attentions. Tatum Quinn.

"It's her mom," gasped Kiara with instant realisation. "Carla Limbrey is Tate's mom."

Tatum didn't see her friends as she walked past. She didn't hear Pope's speech the other day. She had no idea who this woman was and what she was capable of. She was walking into the arms of the mother she had craved since she was a lonely, abused six year old. She had no idea of her mom's link to the Merchant. The Limbreys went well back, the same family that enslaved Denmark Tanny.

a/n: no one noticed this, but tates room is number 47, which is the same chapter her and kie kissed for the first time in the last book :)