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Chapter Thirty One

With only the flickering of the mute television lighting up the darkened bedroom, I am dozily watching it on Rhys's comfier than comfy bed.

It's nearly 10pm and although I have been worried sick, boredom and loneliness has me feeling terribly sorry for myself beneath the warm duvet. Just as I am contemplating falling asleep, I hear the front door open and then quietly close. I listen carefully for the sound of Rhys's footsteps, but there's nothing.

No footsteps.

No sounds of movement.

Nothing.

Slightly panicked, I call out. "Rhys, is that you?" Again, absolutely nothing. I listen harder, but still there is nothing. Panic soon turns to simmering terror.

Maybe someone else is in the house?

Someone who shouldn't be in the house?

My heartbeat races, nearly exploding with fear. With quiet care, I slip out of the bed and start tiptoeing across the bedroom floor with my chilled body tense and trembling. When I reach the doorway, I peep around it. I can't see or hear anyone and that scares me more than anything. If Rhys were home, he would be calling out or doing something in his home that would surely make some kind of noise, but there are no comforting noise or sounds to be heard from anywhere. Everything is just so frighteningly still and quiet. Convinced that it wasn't Rhys who had just opened and closed his front door, my thoughts are momentarily frozen with mind-numbing fear. I can't think straight. I don't know what to do. I even feel weak and dizzy, I am that bloody scared.

Do I hide?

Do I try to escape?

Do I lay in wait and maybe hit them with something?

Do I try to get back to the phone to call 911?

All four options make me more afraid than ever. So I remain rooted to the shadowed spot; terrified and trembling in the bedroom doorway until maybe I am struck with a far less scarier option. It is then that I finally hear something that scares me more than anything else; uncontrollable sobs of desolation.

My heavy legs and feet take me in the direction of what I sadly hear; gut-wrenching gasps of sorrow. In the darkness of the entrance area, I see a lonely figure sat on the stone floor who looks hunched up in pain with their back against the front door. As I nervously get closer, I realise that the lonely and despairing figure is Rhys. Running straight over, I kneel down beside him, speaking with the quietist voice that my fearful throat will allow. "Rhys, what's happened?" He doesn't even seem to notice my presence, my voice or my touch. He is too shattered and broken to notice what is going on around him. Clasping my desperate fingers around his, the ones that are wrapped tightly around his bent up knees, I try to reach him again. "Rhys? Please talk to me." My fingers gently squeeze and stroke his, trying to get him to feel my touch. His head remains buried in the gap between his legs and his chest, refusing to look at me. Unsure of what to do, I kneel up and just drape my whole body across him, trying to cuddle every part of his stricken body that mine can warmly reach. Rhys deeply sobs and I just hold him. I hold him lovingly tight. Saying absolutely nothing, I just keep on holding him. I will do so until the sun comes up, if necessary. Something terrible has happened, I know that. I also know that it's to do with Maci. But I won't ask again because Rhys is too broken to speak, to move or to stop crying. My knees and my back ache, but I won't let go. He needs me and I need to be here for him. Time doesn't matter when someone is hurting. It just stops ticking. It stops passing. It doesn't matter how long we remain like this on the floor, in the dark and in the sad abyss that Rhys is falling deeper into. As he keeps falling, I will just keep on holding.