Shallow Love • jb

13; don't tell me you're my heartbreaker

Third Person POV

    The rain tapping against the window pane and the clinking of the spoon hitting the glass mug were the only sounds evident in the household.

Rhea sat in a stool in front of the counter in the kitchen swirling her spoon in her full cup of hot chocolate watching the steam rise patiently waiting for her beverage to cool. She never had good experiences with hot drinks.

She looked up at the wall noticing the time.

3:10am it read.

She exhaled, her lips pressed together in a fine line. If only she didn't have such trouble going to bed these past few days.

All she could think about was her memory. Well all that she had left of it.

The moment she remembered meeting Ryder she felt more curious about the past two years of her life. The thought of the quirky white boy from the Navy gave her feelings in the pit of her stomach.

Yet, it's supposed to be Justin who gives her those exact feelings.

    "What are you doing up so late?"

    Rhea shook in her seat, fumbling her head around in fright seeing her boyfriend stand in the kitchen doorway rubbing his eye sleepily noticing his messy bed head.

    Mumbling, she said, "I couldn't sleep."

    Justin walked over to the cabinet, opening it to grab a bottle of prescribed pills. Squinting, Rhea read the label. Trazodone was printed in bold letters.

    Even though it's been two years Rhea knows that name too well.

It was the exact bottle that was sprawled on the bathroom floor three years ago while a number of pills sat in Justin's hand limp, dead hand as well as in his stomach.

    Antidepressants.

    He still takes those? She thought to herself sadly.

Rhea gulped, her lips quivering at the memory that will always haunt her for the rest of her life.

18 year old Rhea Scott entered the city of Calabasas, anxiously driving to her boyfriend's house. She's been texting him for the past day constantly, only for all her texts and calls to be unanswered.

She called him once again through the car's phone service being able to drive at the same time.

"Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice message system. Please leave a message-"

The 6th time now.

But this time it went straight to voicemail. No ringing.

Maybe his phone died, she thought.

Then again Justin's phone is never dead as he always has a portable charger with him. She was scared out of her life right now, silently begging the intersection street light to turn green. She prayed to God at a minimum of 10 times since she started driving that Justin is okay.

Rhea thought back to the last text Justin sent her early this morning at 3:30am.

how many people do u think would come to my funeral?

It scared the hell out of her. She immediately called him, but was met with voicemail greeting. Since then, she's been trying to get into contact with him.

Rhea finally arrived at Justin's home to see his Ferrari in the driveway and the house lights on. Sighing in relief, she pressed the code onto the keypad to allow herself in watching the gate open.