Riley ran through the icy rain, clutching her side as stabbing pains burned from her lack of exercise.
The clouds were darker than she had ever seen them, and twenty minutes earlier, the sky opened and rain poured down at her like God’s tears.
Her stomach was aching because she hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and her lungs clamped with the sorrow and fear swarming inside her; her muscles were so tense that she felt they’d break.
God… everything hurt.
When she reached the end of the street, she slowed to a stop, catching her breath.
The streets were empty here; nobody came here, anyway. Especially when it was pouring outside.
She kneeled down onto the concrete and folded her arms over her stomach, attempting to ease the pain coiling inside her.
It never vanished.
But now it hurt—so—much.
Tears sprang in her eyes, and she finally let them out because there was no one to watch her cry, and loud sobs escaped her mouth as she clutched herself tighter.
It was hard to breath with this much agony… When she was crying, she took loud gasps and tried to calm herself.
But she couldn’t stop.
She forgot the reason why she never cried.
It was impossible to stop.
But she clutched her navel through her T-shirt, standing despite her lungs seizing.
And she ran across the street, to the other side where her father rested.
She didn’t care how much this hurt, she needed him near her; she needed to feel his presence.
Riley ran through the millions of graves, knowing where her father was the moment she stumbled through the gates.
She couldn’t stop, so she kept running through the damp fields.
The rain was bleeding through her jacket and freezing her skin underneath, but she didn’t care.
Seconds later, she dropped onto her knees next to her father’s grave, still clutching her stomach when she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to it, the sobs slowing now.
But the pain wouldn’t vanquish.
Riley didn’t want to go home; she didn’t want to go back to the hospital.
She wanted to stay here—with her father—where she felt safe.
She knew he was gone, but here… she felt secure.
So she lay on the mud in front of his grave, curling up and held herself.
She never wanted to leave.
Never leave me again, dad.
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*****
“What the hell are you doing out here?” Paris questioned as he ran up to Riley.
He put his hands on his knees as she remained curled on the mud, the rain staining her clothes a darker color as she stared off into space lazily.
She wasn’t falling asleep; she was back in that numb state again.
Quiet, but fragile.
Paris stared down at her after a moment, blinking rain off his lashes. “Come on,” he urged, “I don’t want you getting sick.”
She never responded.
“Riley,” he pressed.
Silence.
He sighed then, staring off into the distance for a moment before gazing around curiously.
His eyes settled on the stone in behind her seconds later. “Why are you here? What’s today?”
He searched her for a moment, knowing he’d get no answer—not even a curious glance—so he stared back up at the tombstone, reading it.
Micheal T. Princes.
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Beloved Father and Husband.
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May He Rest In Peace.
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Paris’s eyes darkened, and he gazed down at Riley seconds later.
“This is your father’s grave, isn’t it?” He kneeled down beside her, not earning a response. “Is it the day he died? Or his birthday?”
She was quiet.
Paris sighed, staring off into the distance for a moment.
And he gazed down at her. “C’mon, Riley. Let’s get you home.”
She surprisingly didn’t resist when he guided her arm around his neck like he did the night before and lifted her in his arms.
She turned further into him as he walked back home; as if she needed his warmth.
Well… she was stuck in the cold for God knows how long.
And she was soaked and covered in mud and grime.
Riley let him carry her home with no resistance, clearly too tired to care this time.
Which wasn’t entirely normal for her, to be honest.
He walked through the streets for almost twenty minutes when he gazed down at her. “Hey, Rye.”
She didn’t respond, but he knew she was listening.
“Can you get under my jacket?” he asked her. “Just grab the edges and wrap it around yourself. I can’t do it because I’m using both arms to carry you.”
She was silent, but eventually listened and caught the edges of his jacket, turning further into him and wrapping the edges around her arms.
He was trying to warm her up with his body heat because he assumed she was freezing.
But when he felt her icy skin press against his chest—through his shirt—he knew she was colder than she was supposed to be.
How long had she been lying there for? It took him just an hour to find her.
Was she there for an hour?
It only took ten more minutes before they stepped onto Riley’s driveway, Paris ringing the doorbell seconds later.
Riley was clearly confused as to why he wasn’t afraid of her mother, but she never asked, so he never answered.
The door opened seconds later, and Violet’s brows drew together when she saw Paris.
But they rounded when she noticed Riley was covered in mud, huddled up with him.
“Jesus Christ,” she said, stepping out and attempting to assess her daughter, but Paris didn’t let go. “Is she okay?” Violet said. “Did she get hurt, too?”
“Yes,” Paris responded gently, “she’s okay. Just a little numb. Can I take her to her bedroom?”
Violet eyed him for a moment before nodding, letting him in the house willingly.
“Her room’s upstairs,” Violet stated.
Paris nodded even though he already knew. “Thanks.”
And he carried Riley up the stairs and to the right—where the bathroom was—setting her on the floor gently and testing to see if she could stand before letting go.
She could, so he stepped a little back and smiled.
“Take a shower,” he instructed her. “Warm yourself up, okay?”
She nodded numbly.
And he walked out of the bathroom, making his way down the stairs and into the dining room.
“Oh,” Violet said, “are you hungry? Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m not hungry,” Paris said. “I wanted to talk to you, though.”
“So tea then?” Violet answered.
Paris nodded, chuckling. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
Violet and Paris had been talking for over thirty minutes, and toward the end of the conversation, Violet slouched back in her seat, exhaling a curse.
“I know this was going to happen,” she murmured. “I didn’t expect it so soon. I was also kind of hoping it wouldn’t, either.”
Paris nodded.
“Does she know who you are?” Violet said. “Riley?”
“No.”
“Good,” Violet said. “Keep it that way for now. She won’t understand it yet.”
“So, you’re okay with this?” Paris said.
“Yeah,” Violet responded. “The way you explained that makes sense, really. I knew my husband was in some bad business with your people, and I know you want redemption. He talked about you all the time, you know, Paris. Paris, this, Paris, that. ‘Paris is going to change the world’ kind of thing.”
The teen just nodded, staring off into the distance for a moment. “Alright, well I guess it’s settled then. You need to go in hiding.”
Violet nodded.
The moment they heard footsteps receding down the stairs, Violet and Paris looked up, seeing Riley come down with a straight face, but her brows were relaxed.
Man she looked depressed.
“Hey,” Violet said softly, “Paris just said he wanted to take you to the movies tonight. Why don’t you two go have fun?”
Riley shook her head after getting a water bottle from the fridge.
She was probably trying to rehydrate after all the crying she did.
“I’m not in the mood,” she said in a flat tone.
And she went right back upstairs without another word.
“Wow,” Violet said, “usually she’s all over things like that. Why is she…?”
“Guilt,” Paris responded. “And also the fact that she knows I’m hiding something and it concerns her.”
“You can’t tell her, though,” Violet said. “She won’t understand.”
“Yeah,” he said, sighing, “that’s why this is going to be hard.”
Violet scooted out of her chair. “I’ll go talk to her, Paris. I’ll try to convince her to come down to at least chat.”
And she went upstairs, knocking on Riley’s door before opening it and stepping in.
Riley was sitting on her window sill, watching the rain pad against her windows.
Wow… text book depression.
That was kind of sad.
“Why don’t you go with Paris?” Violet said gently. “He seems really nice, you know.”
Riley casted her a confused look mixed in with a depressed one. “I don’t want to go out.”
Violet sighed and shut the door behind her, stepping over to Riley’s bed and sat on the thick mattress.
“Why do you like him so much?” Riley questioned. “You allow Ryan in my room even though you hate him, and you don’t even know Paris and you’re acting like he’s been a family friend for years.” She looked out the window. “You used to hurl when Ryan made kind comments about me, and shoved him out the door at curfew, and now you’re allowing a stranger into our house.” She sighed, setting her chin on her knees. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand what’s happening to my life. Honestly, it feels like some dream. Some inescapable nightmare.”
Violet was silent, clearly not used to this side of her daughter.
Mainly because Riley prevented herself from breaking all these years, and now the trauma was bleeding out like a sliced heart.
“I’ll leave you alone,” Violet said then, not knowing what else to do, “okay?”
And she walked out of the room.
Riley stared off into the distance, feeling uneasy at the sudden silence casting through the room.
She looked up when the rain slammed against the windows and thunder crackled across the sky.
Something wasn’t right… Just something.
But all the sudden, a sharp pain struck her on the back of her head, and she topped over, blacking out before she could even hit the ground.
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