Chapter 22 #2
It was picturesque, and it was peaceful, and dared Scott think it, but it was the perfect calm. He thought about the storm, though, unable to help it.
Once they’d finished eating, Scott shuffled closer in his seat to rest the side of his head on Thomas’s shoulder.
“This…is nice.” Scott sighed.
“You enjoying your first picnic?”
“Not to be technical, but we didn’t leave the car, which I thought you said was integral to a picnic.”
“A picnic is anything you can make, then consume somewhere else; we’re outside the grounds of the mansion.”
“But inside a car.”
“Not for long if you keep on, I’ll kick you out.”
“But we finished, so that still won’t technically be a picnic.”
“Unless you vomit it up and re-eat it.”
“Yum.”
Scott snorted, snuggling into Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas didn’t tell him off.
“Have you heard anything from Russell?” Scott asked.
“Not really. The last text he sent said he’d be there for me when it blew up in my face.”
“When what blows up?”
The top of Scott’s head burned with Thomas’s glare. “I have no idea.”
“Oh…”
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Thomas murmured. “I’m sorry that you saw that.”
“You told me not to look.”
“Still… It’s not nice…I know.” Thomas took a deep breath. “I know the damage things like that can do to you. Trolls. Negativity. Threats. How much it can affect every thought about yourself… And that was before I made myself look like this.”
Scott lifted his head. He didn’t ask, he waited, knowing it was coming. Thomas was about to share one of his secrets, if not all of them.
“I’ve had my fair share of trolls,” Thomas whispered. “It comes from being famous, I guess, but famous and not…handsome…or fit or whatever the public thinks you should be… Fame when you’re overweight, with long scraggily hair, and bad acne, it’s no picnic, Scott.”
“You’re…” Scott squinted, attempting to see through the tattoo. “Famous?”
“I used to sing. I released my first album at ten years old, a choir boy.” Thomas snorted. “My voice has been used on countless adverts over the years, and I’m still paid in royalties, but I only became famous at fifteen when my parents made me audition for a talent show.”
Scott frowned. “The Star?”
“Before The Star, there was another TV talent show, and I won it.” He shook his head.
“That’s not quite right. My voice won it.
Nobody wanted the rest of me. I was on the front page of every newspaper after the win, and do you think they chose a nice picture?
Of course they didn’t. Having a monster on the cover sells more copies. ”
“Thomas, you’re –”
“I hated the attention. I hated that it was no longer about my voice, something I was proud of at the time. It all became about how I looked, and the newspapers called me things; they discussed me like a sickly animal that needed to be put down. Hosts on programmes made fun of me to make their audiences laugh. Every YouTube video of my performances was bombarded with cruel comments, jokes at my expense and threats. I hated it, but then I stopped hating it and began hating myself. I was the things they all said I was; I was the punchline to the sick joke. I deserved to be hurt because of how I looked, who I was… I wasn’t what the public wanted.
I didn’t put myself out there for that. I didn’t even put myself out there for me.
I did it for my parents, to make them proud, but they were only ever after money. ”
“Tim said there was a court case?”
“After I won the show, they paraded me up and down the country, making me perform anywhere. I hated it. People are cruel even when they’ve paid to see you. I didn’t want to do it, but they made me. There was talk of lawyers, and signing contracts, and doctors.”
“Doctors?”
Thomas bit his lip. “I used to have crippling panic attacks before I performed. My parents made me take anti-anxiety drugs and other things to keep me calm on stage, and compliant. It went on for years, then one day I’d had enough, told them I’d never perform again.
They weren’t happy, tried to threaten me, guilt-trip me, and all the while they were taking all the royalties, hoarding all my money and not letting me have any, so I sued them.
My assets were frozen while the court case went on, leaving us all penniless.
I was their only means of income, and they made lots of terrible claims about me, which hit the news, acting like they were the victim, but the judge saw through it. I won. I won everything.”
“When was the last time you saw your parents?”
“That day in court, when they found out they lost. They looked at me like I was the monster, like they couldn’t believe their son would do that to them.
” Thomas shrugged. “They moved north, towards Newcastle. I haven’t heard a thing from them since.
I bought this place, started” – he gestured to his face – “this process. Janice came up with the great idea of putting RIP under the YouTube videos, and people ran with it, thinking I was dead. People grow a conscience when you’re six feet under.
I changed my name to Thomas, ditched my parents’ surname too, and here I am, over a decade later. ”
“I’m sorry,” Scott whispered. “About all of it.”
“None of it is your fault, Scott. I don’t need an apology from you.
I wanted it from my mum and my dad, but they never gave it to me, and I don’t believe they ever will.
But I’d give it all up to start again. I’d give it all up to have parents who loved me and didn’t see me as their cash-cow, but that’s why I’m like this.
” Thomas gestured between them. “That’s why I’m finding this hard.
Trusting you, I mean, it doesn’t come easily. ”
“I know,” Scott said, taking his hand. “Thank you.”
“I wanted you to know that threats over the internet are just that, over the internet. They hurt, they make you uncomfortable, scared, they keep you awake at night, and you wonder if you’re the problem, but you’re not.
It’s them. That sick bastard won’t be coming anywhere near you, and I’d kill him if he did… ”