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Will's POV
THE NIGHT BEFORE

I return home after spending the afternoon with River at the quarry. We were supposed to be quizzing each other for maths, but we spent most of our time listening to music and creating a Spotify playlist for us to share.

River has this magical way of making me feel like it's only us in the world. I know she dislikes herself, she critiques everything she does, she never gives herself a break, but I can see all the beauty in her that she refuses to see for herself. It's so clear to me, so much that I can see it simply by a single glance. I'm not just talking about her physical features, I'm talking about the type of beauty that runs right to the core, the type that is stored in the heart and soul.

She's perfect, but she can't even see it. I would love for her to see herself the way I see her.

Since the very moment she came up to me at my locker with my book in her hand, I could sense something about her. I could see so much anguish in her eyes that tore at my heart. It was a feeling I knew all too well. Her smile was sad and kind at the same time, her eyes genuine, her feelings understandable. I knew River beforehand, obviously, but I never even gave her a second thought, mostly because I thought she was a stuck up girl who kept to herself because she felt she was better than everyone else.

If only I knew.

As soon as I open my front door, shouting booms through my ears and immediately ruins my good mood. I should have been expecting this.

"So it's my fault! Can you not do anything yourself?" my mum yells.

"You wanted the thing in the first place! Don't you fucking dare twist this on me!" Dad bellows back.

"William wanted it. Not me. You always do this, you always lie to make me look like the bad guy."

My younger brother is sat on the stairs, listening to the entire conversation with his eyes glued on his phone.

I completely ignore his existence. I don't want to deal with his shit right now.

"This is your fault," he says.

"What?"

"Mum and dad arguing again. It's always because of you."

"Shut your mouth. They argue over everything. They argued over toothpaste this morning."

"Yeah — toothpaste that you used all of."

My hands ball into fists behind my back. "Everyone uses the toothpaste. I can't help it if it runs out when I use it."

"Still your fault."

I give him a fake smile and hold up my middle finger before I head into the kitchen where my parents are screaming at one another.

I try my hardest to ignore them when I head to the cupboards to fill my feelings with food, but they include me in their argument as soon as they get the chance.

"Have you seen what your dog's done?" my mum yells in my direction.

"What?"

"He's chewed up the sofa! I came home today and found him! When did you last walk him?"

"Last night. I walk him twice a day."

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