- Chapter 7 -

The ocean breeze, cooling as the sun descended closer to the horizon, slammed harshly into his face. Refusing to turn back, Bryon kept running, even when the spitting of an approaching storm became heavier, dampening his clothes and making the dirt on the side of the road starting to transform into mud. As he pounded forward, his mind snapped back to what exactly he was running from.

He didn't have anything to say to Bethany, after he carried her out of the water and away from, what he thought was, harm. He had sat down next to her on the sand, trying to form some kind of explanation, a liable justification for his actions. But nothing came to him. When Bethany didn't say anything, there was nothing to fill the now earily quiet beach.

When he pulled himself out of the sand, and suggested quietly that it was time to get home, she silently stood up with him. Bethany trailed a few steps behind, all the way up the path to Peters hideaway, before she disappeared to say goodbye to Peter. Bryon had continued up to his car, unable to stop his feet from taking him further away from the waters edge, and the pain that occurs within it's slippery grasp. He did however, manage to remain stationary in the car, fighting the urge to drive away, until Bethany joined him once again, her board in tow.

"I thought you might have left without me," Bethany whispered as she got into his truck, as though to afraid to say such a thought too loudly.
"Never," he whispered back, cranking his car into motion again.

The look on her face on the drive home, so stunned into silence and wary of him, was what kept him running now, hours after he had dropped her off at her home, after driving to her place a little too fast. He tried not to think of their parting, the thoughts caused stabbing in his chest that had nothing to do with the stitch of running. But his mind had no control when it came to Bethany Hamilton, and once thought of, it was impossible to stop. He had slid to a holt in front of her doorstep, as close to the stairs as physically possible, and she had silently climbed out of the car. As he could hear Bethany pull her board out of the back of his truck, he dropped his head back against his headrest and squeezed his eyes shut, promising himself that he would go straight home, pack this things, leave, and never ever return. As though hearing his thoughts, Bethany stuck her head through the passenger window

"Do you wanna come in?" Her question appeared genuine, like she could sense where his thoughts where going, and that he shouldn't be alone. But Bryon could not say yes.
"I'd better not. My folks will be expecting me home sometime soon."
"I'll see you soon then?"
"Definitely."

He could see in her eyes that she knew this was going to be the last of him. He was done, with everything. It was so very much time for him to leave. As he skidded out of the drive, he glimpsed a final look at Bethany as she dragged her board around to the shed at the back of her place, and pretended like leaving her behind wasn't the hardest thing he was ever going to do.

Bryon was so focused on steadying his breath, as he continued to run away, and abandoning all the suspicious looks, the sleepless nights, and pain and isolation, that he didn't even register as the day turned to night. And with the lack of sunlight leading his path, he was unaware of the winding low fence running along the very edge of the road. With an increasingly wet road, the spitting still not holting, as though attempting to stop Bryon from leaving, it wasn't long until he slips. It was then that Bryon became very aware of the fence, as he collided with it. The warmth of blood dripping down his leg coupling with the pain shooting down to the base of his foot, Bryon knew it was bad. He took a moment to steady his breath, but the need to keep moving was overwhelming, so it wasn't long before he attempted to stand once again. The moment he put his whole weight on his leg, it crumbled beneath him and he sunk to the road.

Unable to move, Bryon lay where had dropped, the desire to leave home evaporating with the increasing pain. The sun had worked hard during the day, and the ruminants of it's heat was still present on the road beneath him, even with the continued rain. The first suggestion of an approaching car was by the rumbling of the road, even before its lights could be seen above the hill. Bryon's first thought was to ask for a lift, and readied himself to wave them down from his place on the road. But as they almost reach him, his mind jumped to the possibility of it being his parents behind the wheel, and panicked. He would be better off left on the side of the road and bleeding out, than them discovering him like this.

As Bryon attempted to roll out of the car's path, a cry of agony escaped his lips. He managed to drag himself into the sandy mud, the limbo between the fence and the road. It is there that he lay, hoping that car will drive straight past him. And it did. Bryon let out a breath of relief, a moment too soon, for the car slammed on its brakes and skidded to hasty stop 20 meters past him. He propped his head up and looked at the number plate, lit up behind a familiar second hand truck. He knew its owner, and it was so much worse than his parents. Bethany's brother Noah climbed out of the truck, and slanted towards him, his head bent down to stop the rain from falling in his eyes.

"Bryon. What the heck are you doing lying on the ground in the rain?"
"I'm resting?" Bryon was quick to respond, but his voice didn't hold the determination he was hoping to convoy. Silently, he begged for Noah to just leave him be.
"You are so werid," Noah muttered, as he continued walking closer. Squinting through the rain, it took him a few steps after seeing Bryon's leg to understand what he was seeing. When he did, Noah ran the distance between them, crashing to the mud beside him to take a closer look.

"Oh my god, DUDE! Look at your leg! What did you do!"
"The fence – ARGH Careful! That hurts! The fence jumped into me."
"And tried to kill you by the looks of it! I have to take you to the hospital!"
"NO! You can't! They will tell my folks!"
"I have to take you somewhere! I can't just leave you here in the rain dude!"

Bryon didn't know who to turn to. He lived on a tiny island – there really wasn't a long list of people who could see him so damaged and not rat him out to his parents.

"What if I take you to Bethany? She's got insanely good to patching up Tim and I so our parents don't find out. She even popped back Tim's shoulder! She can help you. And you know she wouldn't tell your folks."

That was literally the worse idea Bryon could ever imagine. Get help from the one he was attempting to run away from.

"No no. Just take me home. I'll be okay, just need to rest a bit."
"Are you kidding me? Dude you need help."
"No I don't. Just – home. Take me home."

Reluctantly, Noah agreed. He helped Bryon off the ground, and once it became apparent that zero weight could be put on the injured leg, helped carry him to the passenger seat. When Noah climbed into his own seat, and started his car up again, he did a multiple point turn in order to head back towards Bryon's home.

The drive back to his home was silent, with Noah assuming that Bryon was in too much pain to want to make conversation. Whilst this was true, Bryon was more consumed with the increasing dread that was threatening to overtake his mind. He realised that with each meeting with Bethany, his need to escape grew, and yet he could never leave. There was never an escape.

"Do you need help in?" Noah asked when they finally arrived. It was well and truly dark by now, and the lights on inside implied that his parents were still around.
"I'm just going to be honest with my mum. She will find out anyways right. And might be best not to help me in – the sight could give her a heart attack. I'll be fine. But thanks for picking me up. I appreciate it."
"Hey no problem. If you need saving another time, just call first okay? Don't wait around on the ground where you can get swashed."

Noah was laughing at his own joke as he pulled away, leaving Bryon on his drive to make his way into the house. He slowly shuffled forward, which each jab of his leg shooting pains down to the tips of his toes, to the very edge of his house. Instead of heading through the front door, and undoubtedly straight into his parents, he went the opposite direction, using the outer wall to ease his movement. He continued until reaching his bedroom window, which was open wide to let the air in, the beach breeze so comforting to him on bad nights. It was simple enough to pull himself through and onto the floor inside. He had done it so many times before, when he used to go on night surfs or late parties, and tonight was barely different.

Once inside his room, he wobbled a little in one spot, before stumbling to his bathroom. He knew it was bad, but nothing prepared him for when he turned on the light. The fence had punctured a hole straight into his calf, and had been seeping blood ever since, when now covered his leg and pooled in his shoe. It was only now that Bryon realised the mess he must have left in Noah's car. Someone might assume there had finally been a death in that death bucked of a truck. Glancing around him he saw a dirty shirt on the floor, which had probably been there for days. It was a little bit of a stretch to reach, but once he did he mimicked what he had seen in the movies, and wrapped it around his leg as tight as it could be. It was a bit of an empty gesture - the blood was everywhere. But it seemed to help the pain, slightly.

Bryon could hear his father's declaration that the bills do not, and will never make any sense. Apparently they had been working on them for the entire evening, and the chance of them having noticed his absence was slim. The tv turning on demonstrated that there evening just got a little less stressed.

He sat on the tiles of his bathroom, listening to the echoes from his parents watching tv, and drifting in and out of focus with the pain. He didn't try and think of a plan, or a solution, or how to even hide it from his parents. Bryon just sat. And breathed slowly. His only priority was to let the pain fill him, to consume his thoughts. To think of nothing else.

For just a moment, he was at peace.

And then another voice could be heard. Bryon pretended as thought it was just the tv, but that voice was impossible not to recognise. Of course she would be here. Of course it would be Bethany. Bryon's peace evaporated as he cursed his luck. He could hear her voice rise as she spoke to his parents, sounding slightly panicked. Eventually it reached a level that he could decipher.

" - Horrible horrible movie! I am such an idiot! I knew my folks were out tonight, yet I still did it! So my brother dropped me off here. I'm sorry to throw this on you, but my place was just freaking me out!"

His mother was quieter in tone, too much so that Bryon could not catch what her response was. But he had no doubt that she was declaring Bethany to be her second daughter, and that she must stay with them tonight. She seemed to calm down with whatever was being said, because Bethany's voice became not so easily to interpret.

Bryon rested his head back on the tiles, hoping the coolness of them would be transferred into his increasingly heating body. As he sat there, there was a gentle knock on his door.

Despite saying nothing, for there could only be one person who that belonged to, the door still opened. He had nowhere to escape as Bethany Hamilton stepped into his room.

You know when you have so much to say, but you can't find the words. Its been a year? But I finally found the words. Let me know what you think – Bluie
P.s. Literally a year. 365 days ago was my last one. hahahaha.