"Why do you always sit out there in the rain?"
"So no one can tell that i'm crying."
⚠️Trigger warning: if you cannot handle subjects such as self harm, strong violence, strong language, or possibly rape, this book is not for you⚠️
Growing up, I always messed all the crafts up we did in art class or in class. I couldn't cut the snowflakes right that we always made in the winter time. I remember always getting frustrated about it. I would always be the clumsy kid who would spill glitter everywhere or dump globs of glue on my hands to let it dry and I'd peel it off.
I smack down a pair of scissors, glue, construction paper, and some markers.
I nod and swallow hard, and pop off the marker cap to a red marker. I start to scribble down some words onto the paper. I then grab another sheet thats red , and I cut out a heart and I glue it to the inside of it not too far from the words.
After I finish the card, I look at it and nod. I'm actually pretty proud of myself for it.
My mum's birthday is coming up soon, and I wanted to try to make something for her this year instead of just buying a card.
I walk up to my room and hide the card under my pillow so my mum won't find it.
Trotting down the stairs, I hop off the last step and slide into the kitchen on my socks. My mom is standing at the counter mixing a bowl of something. She's humming a very happy tune and shes swaying her hips back and forth to her humming.
I furrow my brows.
Why does she seem so happy? Is she baking? She never bakes.
"Mum?" I ask quietly. Her humming stops, and she turns around to see me. She smiles wide, and she sets the bowl of batter she was mixing down. She looks younger. The dark bags that sat under her eyes usually, are gone. She has a huge smile on her face, shes singing, she's baking. Is everything okay with her? "What's going on?" I ask, walking into the kitchen more.
"What do you mean?" she watches as I peek into the bowl. It's brownie batter.
"You just seem in a really good mood all of a sudden," I say. "And you're baking. Something happen?"
She nods.
"Actually, yes. Something did happen. Something very big, actually." she turns around and continues to mix the batter.
"And that is...?" I ask impatiently.
Looking up at me, she smiles.
"I have a boyfriend."
The news doesn't sink into my brain that quick, and I just sit there silent.
"W-what?" I ask finally, it sorta sinking in.
"His name is Harry," she says, a smile on her face as his name slips past her lips. "He's very nice and handsome."
"Mum," I start. She looks at me, and I can't help but smile. "That's so awesome!" I run over to her and hug her.
X
X
X
-YOU-
Phil stands awkwardly and you can tell that he was growing nervous by his body behavior. He was starting to avoid eye contact with you, and he starts to play with his fingers. He bites his lip hard, and he looks at you.
"I uh..." he tries to start. "Jesus how am I going to do this..." he sighs and looks away for a second. It's silent between us.
"Phil..." you say quietly as you see a tear roll down his cheek before he quickly wipes it away. "Just spit it out..." you say, your heart beating fast.
"No..." Phil says, covering his face with his hands. "No..." he repeats.
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"Phil!" you say again, growing more and more impatient.
He sits silent still with his hands on his face.
"PHIL!!!" you scream, tearing Phil's hands away from his face. Tears are now pouring out of his eyes, and his cheeks are glowing red.
"No..." he cries.
"Say it, Phil!!" you pressure him more.
"No!" he cries harder.
"PHIL, JUST SAY IT-"
"I KILLED GRAYSON HOWELL, Y/N." he cries.
Letting go of Phil's hands, you step back not knowing how to react. All you can do is just stare at Phil who is crying his eyes out.
You stay silent for about 2 minutes. Phil's sobs were the only thing filling the room. You swallow hard, and let out a small chuckle.
"This is a joke, right? You're fucking with me." you laugh, staring in shock still at Phil, wishing this was actually a joke. You wish that all of a sudden Simon or someone was going to jump out from under the bed or from the closet with a camera, but it doesn't happen.
"No," Phil cries. "I fucking ran him over. I was drunk." he wipes his nose.
Sitting down on the couch slowly, you stare at your feet. Phil has now sat down at the opposite end and is slowly rocking back and forth, sobbing.
It's silent again until you break it.
"Does Dan know...?" you ask quietly, refusing to make eye contact with Phil.
"No..." Phil sniffs loudly as he starts to cry again.
"Let's make sure we keep it that way for now..." you say, wiping a tear from your cheek.
