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Ten minutes later and she's wounding up the path covered in mush and wild bushes right up to the shack she's forced to call her house.
She's thought about it sometimes, you know.
Even earlier today when she'd been lost in her thoughts about Rafe, she had thought about the fact that she has nothing whereas he's the eldest of the most privileged family on the island.
She didn't want to think about, honest to God, but there are times when her mind goes to far-off places, deep and dark, tormenting places.
And she doesn't want to compare her living situation with his — because despite everything she hasn't been disowned — but it's inevitable.
She's thinking about it even now as she walks up to retrieve her bicycle from the side of the house.
Unlocking it, Georgie grabs the handlebars and pulls on them walking the bike away from the house.
It is only when she's passing the porch that she notices it.
The broken windscreen, the chair with one of its leg off, the other chairs harshly toppled down to the ground as if a harsh force of nature flew through the space.
But Georgie knows better.
So, she leaves the bike stranded in the middle of the path and ascends the steps leading up to the porch, shaking out her hands in nervousness and glances around, at once noticing the cigarettes strewn all over the porch table.
Swallowing, she opens the door and carefully steps in eyeing the area with an anxious skepticism.
"Dad?", her voice comes out loud and strangled in the dead quiet house.
No response greets her — which she is thankful for — and then . . . .
"JJ?", she asks hoping for a reply.
But when nothing comes, she sighs shutting the door and descending the steps to go grab her bicycle and leave.
Only, Luke Maybank stands next to it, inspecting the handlebars with a strange curiosity.
