Echoes - A Chris Mears & Tom Daley story (ON HOLD)

Chapter 3 - Out (changed ending)

Rhian’s P.O.V

        I woke up late, much later than I had planned to. The sun was high in the sky and the heat blazed through the open window.

        “Shit.” I mumbled, yanking the blanket off my bed.

        “Rhian! Are you up yet? Get down here, NOW!” My mom yelled, the sound of heavy boxes scuffling along the floor, probably more of her art supplies. I hobbled down the stairs, sore from my brand new mattress.

        “There you are. Here, your boxes are in that corner, take them upstairs and unpack. I’m sick of this mess, I can’t work in this.”

        “Morning to you too.” I muttered, getting straight to work.

        “I’m sorry Rhian. The move just stresses me out so much. Here, I’ll help you with your boxes.” My mom offered, grabbing one and walking back up the stairs with me.

        “So did you have a good time last night? With the boys?”

        “Yeah I did. They’re all really nice.” I concluded, dropping the box on my bed.

        “You know, the view out of your window is gorgeous, I’m quite jealous actually.” She wandered over to the window, nearly stepping on Tom’s sweater. She reached down to grab it, her face going a pale white.

        “Rhian, is...is this...Seamus’?” The lump caught up in my throat again, barely allowing me to speak.

        “No, it’s Tom’s.” I dropped whatever I was unpacking, I had to get away. “Excuse me.” I muttered, running down the stairs and out the door, the tears already starting to fall.

        “Rhian, I’m sorry I-” I heard my mom calling, but I had already turned the corner, starting to run. It didn’t matter that I was barefoot, only wearing spandex and an old Liverpool FC sweater from my grandpa. I only wanted to run.

        I ran until I found a quiet river, nobody was anywhere in sight. I climbed over a few rocks, nestling myself on a ridge near the water’s edge, pulling out the small razor blade. And this time I didn’t stop myself.

----

        I slowly walked back to the studio, my wrist covered with a brand new set of cuts.

        “RHIAN, is everything alright?” My mum ran out to meet me, enveloping me in a hug.

        “Yeah I’m fine. Just needed some air.”

        “I’m sorry for bringing up...do you want to talk about-”

        “I need to finish unpacking.” I interrupted, rushing back upstairs. There was no way I was going talk about my feeling and share the secrets of my soul. Not today, not ever. I quickly unpacked the rest of my stuff. And Tom was right. After putting up a few of my soccer trophies and some pictures, it did kind of feel a bit more like home. I sprawled out on my bed, absorbing light from the sun. In a matter of minutes I was fast asleep.

---

        It was late, way past 7. The only sound I heard was the quiet whirring of my mum’s pottery wheel. I got up, wandering downstairs to the tiny kitchen, making a small smoothie for supper. 7:50pm. Shit, Tom was going to be here soon. I tore up the stairs to my bathroom, splashing water on my face. I pulled on a pair of jean shorts, with a blue and white plaid shirt and my cowboy boots. I quickly applied a bit of mascara, which was all I had time for. The doorbell rang and I hurried down.