The next morning I awoke with a low headache thumping on my temples. My throat felt raw from crying and the skin around my eyes was rough and worn down. My muscles ached from being curled up in the same position all night, despite Kiki folding out the sofa out into a double bed. The only sense of relief I got from waking up from the night before, perhaps one of the most painful nights of my life, was when I stretched out my legs and arms; everything else weighed me down. I could feel my overactive mind switching itself on and reminding me of every piece of suffering I had been through in the past year.

Burying my head into my pillow, a sob rattled through my body as I coiled back in on myself, gripping on to the sheets as if they were holding my body together. I took deep breaths and groaned, rolling onto my back. I glared at the ceiling as if it were the root to all my troubles and focused; I wouldn't let this destroy me. In one swift movement, I lifted back the sheets and pulled myself out of bed.

After a moment of standing, I thought my legs were going to collapse, but I steadied myself on a bookshelf and continued through the beaded curtain, dividing the kitchen from the living-room. On the side-board I found a note from Kiki, saying she was down in the shop, and that she would be back for her lunch break.

Dressed in only an over-sized t-shirt and my underwear, I set about making myself breakfast of a bowl of Frosties and some orange juice and wandered back into the living room where I switched on the TV. Everything felt too normal, as though nothing had changed but the wrecked feeling wheezing through my lungs. I flicked through the channels, indecisive of what I wanted to watch, but everything airing looked grim. I eventually settled for a nature documentary on penguins, and sat in silence, crunching through my bowl of cereal. It wasn't until ten minutes later that there was a knock at the door.

I hesitated answering, feeling uncomfortable opening the door to someone else's home, but after a short deliberation with myself I couldn't see too much harm in it. As the door swung open my breath hitched in my throat as the back of a chestnut hair covered head and lightly tanned skin met my eyes, my mind panicking at the sight of my ex-boyfriend, someone I had planned on avoiding for today.

He turned around. "Beth, is this where you've been all this time? I've been worried sick. Didn't you think to call? Bloody hell I thought you were better than this," Finn grumbled, obviously annoyed at me, though relief brought light to his eyes. A feeling of disappointment pinched at my stomach and a thought flashed through my mind about wanting Jack to be the one who had been out searching for me, not Finn.

I suddenly felt very self-conscious in only a t-shirt and knickers. "What did you expect me to do, huh? Come home and act as though everything was fine? Come on, Finn, give me a chance."

Finn sighed, "I sent you text messages and I tried calling, but I didn't get a reply. You could have at least told me where you were. Please don't ever do that again."

"I haven't checked my phone recently and I know how to take care of myself, you're not my babysitter," I told him dryly, "How did you know where I was anyway?"

"I went into the shop to ask if Kiki had seen you but she told me that you didn't want to be anywhere near me. She called me Jack as well, for goodness sake. I just put two and two together and figured you would be here," Finn said. His green eyes flicked over my down over my body and up to my lips, before reconnecting with my eyes. "What even happened last night? Jack came home and went straight up to his room."

I pressed my lips together to hold back a sharp gasp of painful recollection. I shook my head.

Finn's eye grew wider. "Shit." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at the greying sky. "This is my entire fault, I can't explain how sorry I am."

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