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Chapter Twenty-Four

It was getting dark by the time I woke up, still squeezed into Charlotte's bed. As I silently crept out, closing the door behind me, I grabbed my phone from the coffee table to check the time. Only 4:52pm and nearly pitch black. Another reason why British winters suck.

A missed call from my mum displayed on my home screen. I hadn't spoken to her since she brought me back from hospital last week, and seeing her name on screen caused a familiar guilt to wash over me. Was I a bad daughter? Should I be calling her more often?

I love my mum and we'd been through so much over the previous couple of years. But, when you're living away and getting on with your own life, it can be easy to just, kind of, forget about people back home.

Deciding I would call her back that evening, I made my way into my room to change out of the joggers and hoody I was wearing. Noah said he would be coming back later, so I chose a long-sleeved, burgundy jumper dress and black tights. Not that I wanted to look nice for him or anything.

After pulling my hair into a high, loose ponytail with a few tendrils falling out, I picked up my make-up bag and applied a dab of tinted moisturiser and a coat of mascara. As I dragged the wand through my thick lashes, I couldn't help seeing my mum's hazel eyes reflecting back at me.

Okay, okay, I'll call her now, I thought, the guilt creeping in once again.

Picking up within two rings, she sounded excited to hear from me.

"Abi, baby! How are you doing?"

"I'm good mum, everything's good," I responded, silently wincing at the fact I wasn't exactly telling the whole truth.

"How are you healing? Everything feeling better?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Most of the bruising has gone but my shoulder still aches every now and then."

"And your head?" she continued. "No headaches or dizziness?"

"No, nothing. I've been pretty tired but I think that's part and parcel of mooching around the house all day. I'm looking forward to getting back to uni next week and actually having something to do with my days."

Reassured enough that I was doing okay, my mum's voice relaxed slightly and the conversation turned from a medical check-up into a relatively normal chat.

After twenty minutes or so, I was bursting for the loo.

"Mum, I don't mean to be rude but I think I'm going to wet myself if I don't get off the phone right now," I laughed.

"Okay, baby girl, well I wouldn't want to be the cause of that so you better get going," she replied, chuckling. "Call me next week, yes?"

"I will."

"Do you promise? I miss you, Abs."

"I promise, mum. Love you."

"Love you too. Speak soon, sweetie."

As I hung up, I realised I didn't just need to pee but my stomach was starting to ache with a familiar dull cramping.

Oh, for god's sake.

Crouching in the bathroom as I inserted a tampon, I winced slightly at the uncomfortable sensation. Normally, I would just shove a towel on and be done with it, but the jumper dress was quite figure hugging, and the sight of a nappy sticking through wasn't something I particularly wanted Noah to see.

Thinking about Noah again. Big surprise. My subconscious interjected. Are there not more important things going on at the moment?

Feeling adequately ashamed of my self-centered thoughts, I washed my hands and headed back to sit on the sofa and scroll mindlessly through social media. Other than a few random articles about an up-and-coming new band called The Ambition, Noah didn't seem to have any kind of online presence. I'd already exhausted that trusty avenue of stalking back when we first met.