the perfect girl → outer banks ₁

[ 044 ] my father is the worst man alive, and i am his favorite daughter.

THE PERFECT GIRL.

chapter forty-four, my father is the worst man alive,
and i am his favorite daughter.
[ season two, episode six ]

THE FLUORESCENT LIGHTS OF SHOUPE'S OFFICE BUZZ OVERHEAD. The intermittent flicker of the aging bulbs creates a strobe-like effect that makes Rory's head pound. She sits rigidly beside John B, her fingers digging into the peeling vinyl armrests of her chair, leaving crescent-shaped indentations where her nails break through the surface.

The tape recorder on Shoupe's cluttered desk hisses with static before Gavin's voice fills the small space. The sound quality is poor, with a persistent background crackle, but his words are unmistakable, each syllable striking Rory like physical blows.

"When I got down to the tarmac, I saw the sheriff lying dead on the ground. And then Ward asked me to fly that gold to Nassau and dispose of the gun. And Dylan just stood there, making sure I did. Ward is protecting his son. It was Rafe Cameron who killed Sheriff Peterkin. I. . . I gotta be honest with you. I'm terrified. If anything happens to me, I'm telling you, it was Ward Cameron and Dylan Fernsby. He's the one who did it!"

The confession hangs in the air like a visible thing, a toxic cloud that's finally been released after years of pressure. Rory's breathing grows shallow, her chest constricting as memories flood back with vivid, nauseating clarity, of Dylan's manicured hands that would shove her down the stairs of the Estate, shattering bones; of Rafe's unpredictable rage, his beautiful face contorted into something unrecognizable as he hurled accusations and fists with equal ferocity.

John B leans forward, gaze darting between Shoupe, who sits behind his desk with hands clasped so tightly his knuckles have gone white, and Agent Bratcher, who stands stoically in the corner, arms crossed over his crisp SBI jacket, his expression betraying nothing.

"I told you, Shoupe," John B says, his voice steady but tinged with vindication. His white-knuckled fists rest on his knees, the only outward sign of his inner turmoil. A muscle in his jaw twitches rhythmically. "Ward and Dylan killed our father and Gavin, and now you know Rafe killed Peterkin."

Shoupe exhales heavily, removing his hat and running a hand through his thinning hair. The lines on his weathered face deepen as he nods solemnly, looking suddenly older, as if the weight of his own complicity has aged him on the spot. "Yeah. I know, kid. I know."

He shifts in his creaking chair, turning his attention to Rory. She hasn't spoken a word since they arrived, her face a careful mask hiding the storm raging inside her. Their eyes meet, and something in Shoupe's gaze shifts, a mixture of regret and determination that makes her stomach clench with unexpected hope.

"We're getting Dylan on your abuse too, Aurora."

The carefully constructed walls around Rory's emotions crumble instantly, like a dam giving way to a flood. A sharp, rattling gasp escapes her lips. Tears spring to her eyes without warning, hot and stinging, blurring the room around her into a kaleidoscope of indistinct shapes. Her trembling hand reaches blindly for John B's, finding it with desperate urgency, her cold fingers interlacing with his warm ones. A strangled laugh of disbelief bubbles up from somewhere deep inside her, a sound she doesn't recognize as her own.

"Are you for real?" She whispers, her voice barely audible, fragile with hope that's been crushed too many times before. The question hangs in the air, vibrating with sixteen years of accumulated doubt and disappointment.

Shoupe nods, his usual gruff demeanor softening. The crinkles around his eyes deepen, not from suspicion or irritation, but from something approaching kindness. "Yeah, Rory," he says, the use of her preferred name, not Aurora, not Miss Fernsby, but Rory, confirming the truth of his words. This isn't another empty promise from another adult who will ultimately fail her. This is real. After sixteen agonizing years, justice is finally within reach.