𝘀𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝗹 𝘁𝗼 '𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗿𝗼𝗿' book 2 of 3
on the outside, looking in, bianca prescott was back to who everyone knew her as- kook princess, island royalty, who couldn't give less of a fuck about the pogues like they were poo on her jimmy choo's.
b...
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As promised, after the Pogues had all returned to their respective homes, Bianca trudged towards John B's room where Sarah had holed up the entire evening. The sun had set hours ago, but despite that, the blonde girl didn't manage to catch even one wink of sleep. Not when everywhere she turned, every scent, every scene, reminded her of her lover.
Sarah's mind whirled with thoughts of what he was doing, if he felt scared, whether he was thinking of her too, and yearned to hold his hand once more. But a soft click of the bedroom door opening brought her out of her thoughts and with tear-stained cheeks, she reluctantly pushed herself upwards. Before she could comprehend what was happening, however, a pillow was being thrown in her face and she let out a quiet 'oomph!' from the impact.
The pillow fell away, revealing Bianca making her way over, "What the hell?" Sarah scowled immediately. She narrowed her eyes when her best friend ignored her before settling on the bed, "What are you doing here?"
Bianca wore Kiara's clothes, who had brought some back to the Chateau for the girls to change into. Her dark hair was still damp from a shower as she placed her phone on the bedside table, barely glancing at Sarah in the process, "Going to bed," She deadpanned, shifting to get comfortable under the sheets.
Sarah merely stared blankly, shoulders sagging at the girl's answer. The initial irritation had dissipated as her breath slowed and she was tempted to threaten Bianca to get out, but something prevented her from doing so.
Maybe it was the hollow of her heart that grew deeper and deeper with incessant thoughts that plagued her mind, but Sarah didn't protest Bianca's intrusion. The loneliness was like a dull ache within her, a void that never seemed to feel whole no matter how many times the others told her it would be okay and that everything would work out in the end.
The situation wasn't looking too good for John B but even that would be an understatement. The entire island had practically condemned the boy and were unlikely to see reason. They were just waiting for someone to crucify as the murderer of Sheriff Peterkin and the boy had been unfortunate enough to be the scapegoat. Sarah couldn't help but feel hopelessly overwhelmed at the all-consuming thoughts as she wallowed in her own tears.
So Bianca's entrance, albeit rather rude, was a welcome distraction from her spiral of depression.
"Why don't you just sleep in JJ's room?" Sarah mumbled curiously. She was referring to the guest room down the hall, the one JJ had claimed as his own on the nights he'd returned battered and bruised from his own home.
"What's the point? I'd just hear you ugly cry through the walls," Bianca scoffed lightly, lying straight through her teeth. She hadn't heard a single peep from John B's room since the girl had housed herself in and that's what truly scared her. That after everything they'd been through, Sarah no longer felt grief or sadness or anger, that she only felt numb.
