CHAPTER ONE,
to new beginnings.

Despite it being inevitable, given the fact that the recurrence was a natural form of life, she absolutely loathed the thought of knowing that nothing was forever. Everything in life was temporary, able to be shriveled at its own convenience without a single warning, meaning that zero time was granted to construct some plan of the sort to prevent emotional destruction from occurring when that slim moment of happiness slipped through one's fragile fingers. Temporary wasn't necessarily bad or anything—at least not all the time—but in certain cases, it was enough to scare the teenage girl away from making life-changing decisions that would surely lead to further consequences in the future. And that resentment that she felt towards that unavoidable action was such a paralyzing feeling that always sat on top of her, cutting off her air supply to the point where she was suffocating without any strength in her body to fight it off. It weakened her, sending her flying into an abyss of darkness where her thoughts were her only source of company.

The fear that often shot throughout her body whenever she allowed herself to feel content with how things were playing out for her was almost painful. It was as if her bones were vitally being stepped on, a strong hint of wickedness present in the action as the brittle cartilage slowly began to pulverize into a cloud of thin dust. And the worst part of it all was that she wasn't strong enough to stop any of it from happening. Instead, she'd just lay there . . . a profound state of emptiness occupying her frail body.

Jaylene hated to admit it, but she lost countless hours of sleep at night, her mind always drifting towards all the possible directions that her life could head in. Would she live to see another day? Would she die young? Would she have kids? Would she live a happy life? Would an asteroid suddenly collide with the earth, destroying all life in the blink of an eye? Would climate change actually destroy all humankind? There were innumerable questions that she wished could be answered right then and there so that her anxiety, which never failed to sneak up on her to try and deprive her of life, could simply vanish into the thin air.

Then there was that wave of panic that held her down tightly whenever she thought about the whole aging part of the cycle of life. Every time she stared at her reflection in the mirror, she was hit with the sudden realization that her juvenile skin wouldn't stay the same forever, or whenever she was out doing anything, really, she'd be reminded that time was only moving forward from there. With every second that ticked by, she was getting older, which meant that she was slowly approaching whatever the hell her future had in stock for her, and by getting closer to it, she was also nearing death. Now, don't even get her started on how uneasy that made her feel because she could go on and on about the endless theories that everyone had formed on what comes after the body takes its final breath.

Coming from her, that might even sound foolish considering the fact that she'd cheated death a total of two times now. Not once, but twice! Call it luck or whatever, but the generosity that life had for her was undeniable.

Now, if there was anything comforting about Jaylene's thoughts, it was that they weren't anywhere close to being original. She wasn't the only person on earth who lifelessly stared into the nothing, viciously being clawed at with these never-ending questions that didn't have an answer to them . . . not yet, at least. Strangely, it was calming to know that she wasn't the only clueless one.

     "Sorry, sweetheart, I think you have me confused with someone else."

     Had it not been for Marleen Harrington finally locating her voice after what felt like an eternity, Jaylene was sure that she would've drowned in the sea of thoughts that enveloped her. She could feel her head pounding, unsure whether it had to do with the brutal response she'd just received from her birth mother, or from the mild hypothermia that was creeping up her neck from having been floating in the salty, ocean water for some unknown hours. Whatever it was, she felt sick, her stomach churning in repugnance with the sudden need to vomit crawling up her throat.

     Though Jaylene would've loved nothing more than to call the woman out on her lies, she chose to hold back, deciding that this wasn't the right time for a family reunion. In her world, Marleen Harrington had died of an overdose, and judging by the way in which she'd reacted to seeing her daughter after approximately twelve years, that's the way she wanted it to remain. So, she let nothing more than a scoff leave her mouth, lips pursed into a thin line to express her disappointment. "God, I think I need to lie down for a few hours." The brunette pressed a hand to her forehead, shrugging the warm blanket off of her body to stand up from where she'd been sat for the past few minutes.

     John B, who was equally as shocked as Jaylene, stared at Marleen with wide eyes. Considering that the older woman had been raised on The Cut alongside his father, he had seen a few pictures from their days in high school, and to say that she hadn't changed a bit since then was a huge understatement. A perfectly structured face like hers was the type that was incapable of being forgotten, it was embedded in the brain, remaining there for a lifetime. From her remarkable looks leading to her charismatic disposition, she was adored on The Cut, nothing but kind words ever being used to describe the blonde-haired woman that was said to have died at the young age of twenty-five.

     The tension between Jaylene and Marleen didn't go unnoticed either. Terrance suspiciously eyed the two, quick to shake off the questions that formed in his mind. "Why don't you two get some soup into your systems and then I'll have Cleo show you to one of the resting areas." He suggested with a coy smile, looking at a pale-faced Jaylene as he spoke to assure her that she'd be able to get a few hours of sleep in.

"Cleo?" John B raised a brow up at the unfamiliar name, his hand reaching out towards Jaylene to pull the stubborn girl closer to him when he noticed how unsteady she was on her own two feet. He felt a pang of guilt shoot throughout his body for having involved her in all of this and even more now that he had discovered that her mother was alive and was stuck on this ship with them.

"She's ought to be around here somewhere." Terrance was brief with words, his attention shifting towards the miles and miles of water ahead of them. "We should be reachin' the next port in a few hours. Am I dropping you kids off there?"

Jaylene briefly glanced up at John B before backing up against him, immediately feeling his chin plant itself on top of her damp hair with his arms wrapping themselves around her waist to provide her with the warmth that she desperately craved right now that the blanket she'd abandoned couldn't offer her. She was quick to relax into his embrace, a long sigh leaving her lips. "Actually, we'll tag along to Nassau . . . if that's okay." She managed to form a sentence, trailing off slightly.

     While no one else seemed to question what two teenagers were doing out in the middle of the ocean after the hazardous storm that swept through the coast, Marleen couldn't help but wonder what had happened and why her daughter was running off to The Bahamas of all places in the world and why the hell was she with John Routledge's kid of all people. Sure she knew that Henderson Rosewood couldn't commit to their marriage, but she'd seen the way he treated their children while they were still together which made her grow suspicious. Even though Florence and Mark Harrington knew of their daughter's whereabouts, that didn't necessarily mean that they kept her in the loop of everything. All she really knew was that Henderson had remarried shortly after her supposed death . . . what she didn't was who had become his second wife. Not that it mattered anyway. She was more focused on the fact that her husband had obviously failed at parenting two teenagers on his own.

     "Not a problem." Terrance nodded his head at Jaylene, his eyebrows knitting at the sight of Marleen completely zoned out. "Maribel, quit standin' around and give these poor kids some of that damn soup!" He ordered, scoffing slightly at how out of it the blonde seemed to be after the unexpected reunion with her now teenage daughter.

     Marleen jumped slightly at that, her eyes momentarily squeezing shut in order for her to snap back into reality. Trying to dissemble the concern that raced through her body, she forced a grin, handing off the warm soup to Jaylene, who took it into her grasp despite her appetite being nonexistent at the moment. For a few seconds, she couldn't help but stare at the brunette. The thing that stood out to her the most was that she was no longer that sweet, doe-eyed girl that once ran around the backyard of the Rosewood estate, pigtails in hair with the widest of grins tugging at her lips, the sun soaking into her rosy cheeks and most important of all, living a worry-free life. Now Jaylene was the opposite of that. Whether it was the dullness surrounding her enlarged pupils or the way in which she carried herself—a way in which signified just how exhausted she was with whatever was currently going on in her catastrophic life—she could just tell how badly the poor girl just needed to stop and breathe.

"Thanks, Maribel." Jaylene could practically taste the bitterness that came with uttering that name that her mother had chosen to go by. She tried to refrain her resentment from getting the best of her but failed. "My apologies for that awkward moment from earlier. It's just . . . you resemble my disgrace of a mother so much. Must've been the little girl inside of me that jumped out."

At that, John B stepped in, awkwardly laughing to try to lighten the situation. He knew that if they stuck around for any longer, Jaylene would gladly voice every single thought that was rummaging through her mind at the moment. It was the one thing he disliked about her sometimes. Her lack of filter always managed to get her involved in some sort of trouble and that was something that they couldn't risk right now. "Wow, okay." He cleared his throat, pulling away from her so that he could stretch his muscles out to gather up enough energy. "We'll just be out there."

"Oh, but it's so much warmer in here," Jaylene argued with the last part, dreading the idea of having to go outside where the morning breeze would surely worsen the weakened condition she was already in after having fallen unconscious in the middle of the ocean only to wake up with an unhealthy amount of liquid lying between her lungs. Even now she still felt awful. Her throat was sore, her abdomen was aching, her feet felt numb, and overall, she was just a tired mess in need of some sleep.

     "Jay." He gave her a stern look, indicating that he wasn't taking no for an answer.

Taking in a deep breath, Jaylene ran her fingers through the damp knots in her hair, looking towards Marleen and Terrance and then back at John B. With a slight scoff, she shook her head. "Well, I guess we'll be out there even though we're clearly hypothermic right now." She hoped that her cold tone would get John B to realize just how idiotic this suggestion of his was. Though she would've preferred to argue, she sucked it up, swooping up the blanket she'd tossed to the side since she knew she'd be needing it. "Aren't you just full of amazing ideas, sweetheart?!" Her hand reached upwards to squeeze the boy's cheek, the skin quickly turning red because of how harsh she'd been.

"Don't manhandle me." John B spoke quietly as the two began to walk out towards the deck.

"I'll manhandle you if I damn want to," Jaylene responded, shoving the soup towards him so that she wouldn't have to carry it any longer.

     Once they were both out of earshot, Terrance let out a loud chuckle, earning Marleen's attention. "Turned into a disaster I'm telling you." He muttered quietly under his breath, referring to his very own love life from when he was younger.

Catching onto what he was saying, Marleen shook her head in disagreement. She didn't have to be a part of Jaylene's life to know that she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions, John B being one of those. After all, John Routledge had been one of her close friends in the past, so she had to convince herself that he'd done a decent job at raising his only son. "I think they'll be just fine, T." She smiled slightly, observing the couple from afar as her daughter stubbornly refused to eat any of the soup that her boyfriend tried to feed her.

"Why'd the girl think you were her mother?" Terrance questioned out of sheer curiosity. He would've done it earlier, except he, too, had felt that thick tension that arose between the reuniting duo, so he opted towards the wise decision of not getting involved . . . until now, that is. "The way you've described your kid made it out to seem like she was younger, not a whole ass teenager."

     "Why don't you focus on getting us to Nassau instead of digging your nose into my business?" Marleen shifted her focus back towards the captain, her eyes narrowed to let him know that it'd be best if he stopped with the questions now.

     Deciding it'd be best to relinquish his curiosity, Terrance held his hands up in defense. "Thought I was dropping you off at the next port." He spoke with confusion, glancing towards the blonde-haired woman to make sure he'd heard her correctly.

"Change of plans." Marleen hummed, deciding that it'd be best if she joined them in the Caribbean. "Is that a problem?"

     "No problem at all."

     Meanwhile, out on the deck, Jaylene was leaned back against the metal railing, her body shivering from the breeze that slithered in through the gaps of the blanket, brushing past her wet clothes that clung to her body to make standing out there even more insufferable. If she had the proper strength in her body to reach out and smack John B for bringing her out here in the first place, she would've gladly done it by now, except she could barely move a muscle, afraid that she'd quite literally snap from how fragile every single bone in her body felt. To worsen her current state, everything around her made her head ache, including the simple sight of the ocean in front of her. She was never the biggest fan of the water, to begin with, which was strange considering she'd spent her entire life living on an island, but with the whirlwind of chaos that had unexpectedly sucked her in, she wasn't sure if she would ever be capable of taking a calm swim in the ocean without the fear of drowning to death playing in her mind.

     Just a little bit over two weeks ago, the pogues were celebrating their greatest accomplishment which was finding the gold that had previously been stashed away in one of the old wells at the Crain Residence. The adrenaline that pumped through Jaylene's body that night was indescribable, it felt as if her skin was on fire, a strange wave of happiness overriding her system in a way so powerful that signified the unlikelihood of it ever occurring again in her lifetime.

Everything was supposed to work out perfectly after that. Knowing the location of the gold on its own was considered a huge victory. The most difficult part about it was supposed to be getting it out of there without being charged for trespassing and not falling to death on the makeshift pulley system that Pope had spent hours constructing. In a perfect world, they would've successfully retrieved the $400 million bars of gold that generations before them had been hellbent on finding. However, this wasn't a perfect world, and everything that could've gone wrong . . . did, in fact, go wrong.

     From discovering that Ward Cameron had killed John Routledge to him taking the gold, loading it up on his plane on the runway; that very runway turning into a crime scene when Rafe Cameron unexpectedly pulled the trigger on one of the many guns the Cameron family owned, the bullet soaring through the humid air until it winded up puncturing what turned out to be an unviable lung that belonged to sheriff Peterkin. Not to mention that John B was framed for murder, forcing him and his friends to construct a plan to get him the hell off the island so that he wouldn't end up in a jail cell for a crime that wasn't his doing. And while that plan was being devised, Jaylene had zero intentions of joining him on The Phantom and yet here she was . . . presumed dead after impulsively hopping onto the boat that was steered directly into the storm that they'd magically managed to survive.

It all turned into a disaster that no one could've possibly seen coming.

At the sudden feeling of a plastic spoon scraping across her lip to try to gain access into her mouth, Jaylene was snapped from her thoughts. Narrowing her eyes, she turned towards John B who was trying to force-feed her some of the warm soup. "Get that away from me." She recoiled in disgust.

     "You have to eat something." John B prompted, attempting to get a spoonful of the soup into her mouth again only for her to back away from him, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body.

     Keeping her gaze focused on the hues of orange and yellow that swirled together just a few inches above the horizon, creating the perfect sunrise in the process that would've been much nicer to enjoy from the comfort of her own bedroom with her pajamas on her body instead of the wet clothing she was currently dressed in, Jaylene sighed loudly, briefly glancing at John B with a serious look set on her face. "I don't like soup." She bluntly said.

"Well, we really don't have any other option." John B mused, using his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose to express his frustration at her refusal to eat. It wasn't in an angry way, more so a concerned way for her overall well-being with all these emotions toppling over her. "I don't see any fast food places around where we can stop to get a burger, do you?"

     A hoarse chuckle bubbled in Jaylene's chest, traveling upwards until it left her lips. Her gaze traveled towards him