Ottilie Moreau was broken.

Something deep within her broke when her father sat her down and told her he was dying.

It wasn't the first time they has the conversation, he had been dying for most of her life. He'd flip-flop back and forth between having cancer and being in remission. Half of her memories of her father were lived in a hospital, were he was frail and sick. And the other half was living life to the fullest, always going out and doing every activity they could to make up for lost time.

But it would be the last time they would have the all too familiar conversation.

He had fought for so long, he had fought for her. But he was done.

Shortly after the news was broken the Moreau family packed up their stuff and moved to their holiday home. Her father loved that home, he looked forward to each summer as they'd move there, soaking in the sun and laid back nature of the island. Although they hadn't been the year prior due to her father being too immunocomprimised.

The first night there was hard. Well, just about every night since her dad told her he wanted to stop fighting was hard.

She couldn't stop her mind from whirring, it was constantly thinking about her father. So much was frighteningly unknown, and she felt awful that a lot of what she was worried about was inherently selfish. She wondered how she was going to cope with her father dying. How he would miss so many important moments in her life. He wouldn't be there to meet grandchildren, or to walk her down the aisle.

She was never good at coping with things like this, her coping mechanisms consisted of shoving her feels deep, deep down and snorting something to take her out of her own head for a while.

Today she chose the later.

Getting up from her bed she walked over to her wardrobe, which was now fully stocked with her clothes, reaching up to the shelf at the top she pulled out a shoe box. Inside said shoe box was a few momentos, pictures and souvenirs she had collected from various holidays. But underneath all those was a few packets of various things, she wasn't really a weed girl, the smell made it too obvious. She preferred pills - xannys were her favourite but she wouldn't pass up many things.

With shaky hands she took out a bar of xanax, and using the base of her metal drink bottle she began crushing it up. Once it became a fine powder she used a random business card to form lines she had in the box, before pinching off one side of her nose and inhaling it all. Sniffing a few times to get it all down she breathed deeply. Shutting her eyes she already felt relaxed at the thought of the chemicals working their magic.

After the drugs kicked in she quickly realised that was nowhere near enough for her today, she needed to forgot about every aspect of her life for a little.

She needed to not remember tonight.

After burning through most of her stash the girl was finally satisfied with her level of inebration. She laid out on her fluffy bed with an obnoxious amount of throw pillows - her mother loved interior deign a little too much - and then she decided needed to get out the house.

Knowing her parents would still be awake she opted to leave through the window, pulling it open she climbed out.

She knew exactly where she wanted to go.

Her place, as she called it, was somewhere she had never seen another person. It overlooked the water, which wasn't saying much considering most of the island overlooked the water, but the little spot was tranquil.

Walking alone, at night, as a girl, through the shadier part of town was definitely not a bright idea. But Otto was all out of bright ideas.

She arrived to the spot in one piece and had enough reason within her to not climb up the tree she usually sat in. The last thing she needed was to end up a quadriplegic.

Otto listened to the various sounds of the night, birds calling, crickets chirping and some muffled shouting. That was the Cut for you.

But then she heard something different, footsteps coming toward her. She looked over and saw a rough looking blonde boy. Dressed in tattered clothes and wearing a red hat that obviously had seen better days.

JJ Maybank strolled into Ottilie's life. Neither of them had any clue what lied ahead of them. The had no idea that this night would change their entire lives.

Well, they had met each other once or twice before but those meetings were brief and they'd said collectively half a dozens words to each other.

"The fuck are you doing here?" He grumbled, holding the neck of a bottle of tequila. He was annoyed, not really at her, more at life.

Otto glared at him, "I could ask the same of you."

He shrugged, giving up with the conversation.

He had come to his favourite spot. He too needed to forget tonight, he needed to get out of his head before he strapped an anchor to his foot and jumped in the ocean.

They both had grievances.

Otto's father was dying. And there was fuck all she could do about it. She couldn't ask him to continue fighting because she wanted him to see her grow up, that was selfish, he had been fighting for so long. It was a marathon with no finish line. He would never win against his cancer.

JJ's friends were dead. That day marked one year since John B and Sarah rode off on the Phantom. He had stormed out of the Chateau when Kie tried to cut him off, but not before he spewed out some below the belt insults and he ran into the night.

He took a seat a foot away from her, kicking out his legs and leaning against the same thick trunk she too was leaning against.

The silence wasn't awkward, the were both too wasted for anything to be awkward. It also wasn't tense, once again, they were too wasted for that to be the case. The silence was just that - silence.

But it wasn't silent for more than a handful of minutes.

"Well if you're going to stay at least give me a swig." She held out her hand expectantly, JJ turned to look at her.

He didn't recognise her, which in his mind, meant she was a touron. His assumption was technically true, she was a touron, coming here every summer and leaving a few days before school started back up. But now her permanent residence - at least for the foreseeable future - was the Outer Banks.

But one thing was clear to him, and he knew it could be the copious amounts of alcohol in his system talking, but the girl sitting in front of him was gorgeous.

So fucking gorgeous.

With a smirk on his face he handed her the bottle. When she asked for a swig, she really meant she wanted to finish off the bottle. And she did just that, downing the last dregs, before handing back the empty bottle to the grubby boy.

"So much for a fuckin' swig." He mumbled, putting the glass bottle down beside him.

Call him shallow, but he was a little more preoccupied with how pretty she was to be annoyed that she finished off his drink.

They sat in silence for almost an hour, Otto's high was beginning to taper down and she couldn't let that trend continue. "I need more drugs." She sighed under her breath. Dragging her hands down her face, she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, hard enough to see colours. She was beginning to feel things again.

"You can come back to mine, I've got enough drugs to fill a pharmacy." JJ offered, he wasn't entirely sure why, he didn't like sharing, especially with someone he didn't know. But once the words came out he couldn't exactly retract them, nor did he particularly want to.

She furrowed her brows at him, "You are aware I'm taking them and dipping." She warned him, he just shrugged.

The pair got up and stumbled their way back to the Chateau, walking into the room he'd claimed as his own he opened the draw he stashed his drugs in. There was no attempts at hiding them like Otto did. He didn't have parents he lived with, or parents that would be angry at him for having drugs. His father would just be angry that he didn't give the drugs over to him.

He gestured for her to take her pick, they were unlabelled which made things a little more difficult but in the end she just picked one she liked the shape of. She usually liked to keep tabs on what she was taking, but tonight she was being reckless. Stupid.

JJ lit up a blunt, plopping himself on the stained sofa, Otto gave him a look.

"I deserve to know your name now that I've let you into my home, and given you my drugs." He looked up at the girl, every time he did he was always surprised at how perfect her face was.

If she were a sim and not a person, there wouldn't be a thing he'd change.

"Otto." She answered honestly, he raised his brows at the name, he hadn't heard it before but he decided it suited her.

"And yours?" She asked before leaning down and snatching the blunt from his pinched fingers.

He smirked. He liked her.

She filled her lungs with the intoxicating fumes and decided to take a seat, having completely forgotten about her intention to dip after getting her fix. It was starting to hit her now, the tapering down had flipped and she was beginning to relax once again.

"JJ." He replied, she nodded. He looked like a JJ, she thought. Whatever that meant.

They sat in silence, once again, it wasn't awkward or tense, it was just silent. Passing the blunt back and forth until it ran its course.

Neither of them could ever remember how the next series of events happened, they just knew it did.

We all know what they had to show for it.

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