this is book two.
john b and his twin sister, on an mission to have a good time all the time, turns into a treasure hunt. one twin fall for the twins best friend. a fun treasure hunt turns into something more dangerous than almost all teenagers go t...
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my old man used to tell me... it's best to never say you've hit rock bottom. "trust me," he said... "you can always go lower." "and the thing about hell is there's always another one below."
I thought back to this as I was put into my prison cell. It was a rough night, not that I was trying to sleep anyway. More than anything I wanted a way to tell JJ to move on, to find someone new and follow his dreams of leaving this small, shit island. But, now standing in front ot the judge waiting to hear what me and John B will be sentenced to, all I want to do is escape with him.
"John Booker Routledge and y/n Brooke Routledge, pursuants to the North Carolina statute section 14, you are both charged with murder in the first degree with aggravated circumstances. If convicted, the maximum sentence would be the death penalty," the judge tells everyone striking the gavel. I feel my face fall and watch as John B's does the same.
I hear laughs from the Kooks and complaints from the Pogues.
"You Honor, their 17," I hear an all familair voice yell from the crowd. All I can do is hope that he just shuts up. "He's 17! Are you kidding me?"
I watch as Pope, Sarah, and Kie try to calm him down.
"We're gonna figure it out," JJ tells us as the cops grab us to take us back to our cells.
I watch as Sarah tries to get to John B, just to be held back by the cops.
-
I pull my knees into my chest, looking over the notes I wrote for defense. And then I rip them all up. No ones gonna believe the truth and that's the truth. If we're gonna die, the rest of the Pogues can still get the gold and save themselves.
I lean against the wall of my cell banging my head against it, letting the tears fall. We shouldn't have come home, we didn't need to come home. We were perfectly fine where we were. Now I'm gonna die.
I don't wanna die. Not like this. I'd rather go out by killing myself than give these bastards what they want.
So that's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna take myself out. I sit down next to the metal sink looking for rusted parts that I could break off. I find a piece and look to make sure no one's around me.
I take my fist and punch it. I small blade like piece falls off onto the floor. I pick it up and hold it to my throat. I slowly force myself to press it into my skin forcing myself not to yell out as my throat begins bleeding.
And then I stop.
I just can't bring myself to do it, I'm not just gonna take the easy way out.
