Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
RILEY
*pls note... Riley is a BOY lmaoo. The other POV is Valerie in the next chapter and she is a girl. I really needed to clear that up lmaoo
Today was the day I died.
And I can tell you now, it was not fun. It happened so unexpectedly-and at a time when I actually started to experience this thing called "hope" for the first time ever. And it all started from those pieces on the floor.
A hundred pieces scattered on the marble tiles of the kitchen, the shards glimmering with the reflection of the sun that peeped from the tiny gap between the lapis velvet curtains. That gap was the only thing that kept the place from being pitch black in the early mornings. I'd always hated having heavy curtains.
But he seemed to like it dark. I think it suits him. It brings out the darkness in his personality.
My mind was initially a blank slate as I stared down at the glass- the once colourful piece of art now a pile of shattered little jewels, all mismatched, all misshapen. And then the spiralling started. It was broken, in pieces, and it had taken me ages to finally be satisfied with every stroke and every colour that I used. It was meant to be exactly like her's. It's not in place anymore. It's mismatched... it's in pieces.
I got down on my knees, the small pieces piercing through the thin material of my jeans-I still have the holes from where they tore into the fabric, and they aggravate me every time I look at them- and I picked up the largest shard that still had part of the image that had been painted onto it-outlining strokes of a peacock feather. It had taken several weeks to get each feather right, and to add just the right amount of detail. I'd been so proud to almost get it done. But now I couldn't even have a little glass painting to call my own. It's all out of place.
It's out of place.
I can't look at it anymore.
I turned to look at the large, snoring man sprawled out on the sofa. Drool stuck to the side of his mouth as it trailed down to his chin, and he was laying with one arm and leg hanging off the edge of the sofa, reminding me of a starfish.
I wondered what was going on in his mind when he broke it. Did he feel an ounce of remorse or some other emotion? Did he really not care about what it was? I mean, I knew he didn't care that I was the one who created it, but I would've thought he might hesitate out of recognition upon seeing it.
I slowly walked towards him, my fingers wrapped tightly around the shard. It felt sharp in my hands. It might've been sharp enough.
I hovered over him, and as I looked down at his face, my eyes travelled down to his neck. I can't deny that I've always thought about it. That I always had this what-if feeling about doing it. Maybe if I did it, I might be able to be rid of all the misery in my life once and for all. Maybe I could do it then run away. Become a peripatetic that lives in a caravan, and travels around from place to place. Maybe I could see the world outside of this dry town.
But then I snorted to myself. You fool. How are you going to live your whole life travelling in a caravan? You're too broke for that.
I threw the shard back on the floor and turned my back to the drooling face. He wasn't worth getting into trouble for.
My legs still stinging from the shard fragments indented into my skin, I made my way to the front door, sliding on the first pair of shoes that I saw, and threw on a jacket, before slipping outside. I needed to get away from that place before I had another panic attack.
I tried to brush away the glass from my jeans, my hand trembling in the process, and winced as some of the pieces cut deeper. I needed to get them off. I needed to get them out. I began speed-walking down the road, not really knowing where I was going, but hoping I'd end up in a place where I could escape all this. A place I could escape that house, that painting, this life.... Where I could escape me.
The sky was a faded grey with tints of orange from the sunrise, and cold air slapped against my skin as I strode down the pavement, my mind occupied with thoughts of what to do next.
I could leave it. Forget about it. Pretend it never happened, so I didn't have to keep thinking about those scattered shards.
But...it took me months. And I never got to finish it. I never got to see it through.
But I promised. I promised myself I'd finish it. I sighed and shook my head. It'd take a long time...maybe another year. But it just might be worth it.
I arrived at the traffic lights that divided my neighbourhood from the main street. It was only 5am, so the only people around were joggers and dog walkers, and the roads were relatively quiet. I loved places that were full of friendly company, and bustling with exciting distraction, but my favourite time of day was this time. The quiet time before he woke up, and before there were enough people to give me worried stares as I roamed the streets with a defeated look on my face. It was pretty ironic, really.
I did this a lot. When something like this happened, I would wander around outside without actually knowing where I'm going. Most of the time I didn't even pay attention to anything around me, and I used to end up getting lost. But it had happened so many times that I'd now explored the entire town.
I wasn't sure where my legs were taking me this time. I just knew I needed to be far away from home. That feeling in my chest felt like someone had pinched their finger and thumb in my heart, and was twisting it around, and around, tightening my insides, and suffocating me.
Maybe I could go to Ash or Macey's. But it's so early. I couldn't wake them up at this time.
My throat was sore at this point. Holding in tears for so long is much more painful than one might think. I didn't want to break down in the middle of the street. I needed to clear my mind so that I'd know what to do.
I stared down at my trainers as they moved one in front of the other across, focusing on stepping within the bricks, and avoiding the outlines of the cement squares. What am I supposed to do now? With the painting?
I wanted to see it through to the end. But was it worth it?
Of course it was worth it.
But at that moment I wasn't sure. I was conflicted, to say the least. And since I was so buried deep inside my own head, I didn't take much notice as to what was going on around me.
I didn't pay attention to the first warning shout that screamed at me.
I didn't pay attention to the headlights that were getting closer and closer.
It was only when a loud honk made me snap my head up to look in the direction of the speeding vehicle, that I realised what was going on.
My thoughts were immediately torn away from my focus when the second scream was followed by another loud beeping sound that shattered my ears. But there was not enough time to react.
It took me a moment to comprehend what was happening, but by that time, my feet had left the ground, and my body was thrusted into the air.
Time seemed to stop.
And in an instant I was able to picture that painting Mum made that used to stand in the living room...maybe. Maybe it was worth recreating after all. Why did I hesitate?
Now...was I really going to die? Just like this? Was my life really going to cut off from here? What about my friends? Am I not going to see them again?
Wait. No. That couldn't be it. I couldn't- I couldn't die...
