
Living On Borrowed Time

By Samie Sands
2017 (C) Samie Sands

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

# Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Living on Borrowed Time

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

EPILOGUE
For everyone who's struggling.

You're never alone.

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# ONE

I shouldn't be here.

No, not here, in the hot, sweaty kitchen of this rundown diner--although, to be honest, I highly doubt I should be here either.

No, I shouldn't be alive.

I was supposed to die eighteen months ago. That was supposed to be it for me.

I was ill for a very long time, so getting that final diagnosis of six months to go was as relieving as it was devastating. To be honest, my emotions about it were completely mixed. I didn't want to die necessarily--not that I think anyone does really-- but I was so sick of the constant round of doctors, hospitals, tubes, pills, sickness...it was exhausting, and the thought of escaping that was something of a relief.

I just wanted an end to it.

Of course, not everyone felt the same. At least, not at first, but once my family and friends got used to the idea that I was dying, that I was going to be relieved of my suffering, they were intent on making my final months amazing, and boy did they succeed! I went traveling, I had parties, I did everything that was on my bucket list--except bungee jumping. I bottled that at the last second. It was fabulous, a real whirlwind of fun and excitement. Of course, there was the odd interruption with my health, but somehow, we managed to work past that. Sure, we were all acutely aware of where it was heading but it didn't taint the mood. Not really.

"Lara, what are you doing just standing there? I pressed the bell about five minutes ago...these burgers aren't going to take themselves to table twelve." The grumpy head chef, Alfie yelled at me. He didn't care about my internal struggle. He had no idea what it was like to know that you should be dead. All he cared about was getting this disgusting, fatty food out as quickly as possible so he could return home, to his sad middle-aged man 'bachelor pad' to smoke and drink his wages away.

I snatched the plates out of his hand and stalked moodily over to the table, where a couple were sat there smiling intently at each other. This could have been their first date, or they could have been married for years--that wasn't what I noticed. It was the light that was shining in their eyes, as they gazed at one another. Happiness. An emotion I couldn't even begin to understand anymore.

I shoved the food on the table in front of them, asking them if there was anything else they needed in the flat, monotone sound that had somehow become my voice. They didn't even acknowledge my existence, they simply waved me away. I was nothing to them, just as I was nothing to everybody.

I'd been that way for a very long time now.

Once my deadline had passed, and the high started to wear off, I wondered what was happening, why I was still alive. Confused, I took myself to the doctors and after a whole range of invasive tests, they told me something unexpected, something miraculous--that I was actually starting to get better. Against all odds, I was somehow surviving.

I felt numb as he said those words. I know he expected me to celebrate, to be happy with the news that I would get to live longer, but I wasn't. I'd gotten so used to the idea that I was going to die. I'd even adjusted to it, become comfortable with it, that to hear otherwise was utterly overwhelming. I had become so used to living in the moment, not worrying about the future because I was never going to have one, that with a long, black emptiness stretching out in front of me, I felt terrified.

What was I supposed to do? I had no future, no dreams, no plans. I had no idea where I was supposed to go next, how could I? How was I supposed to craft a new beginning out of zilch? It seemed like a ridiculously impossible task, that I couldn't even begin to overcome.

Then again, I still had no prospects, no real education, no interests, no desires...nothing, and I no longer had any excuse for that. A year and a half had passed. There was so much that I could have done with that time, but I hadn't.

I'd done absolutely nothing with it, I'd merely existed.

Every day it hit me how I would have been better off dead. I might as well have died, because since my positive diagnosis I was just living on autopilot, going through the motions aimlessly.

My friends and family couldn't understand how I just seemed empty after I got the good news, and as I continued to improve, to get better, they got more and more frustrated by my increasingly negative attitude. One-by-one they became annoyed by me. I did something to piss all of them off and now, none of them bother with me anymore.

Not that I bother with them either. I feel like too much has passed; there's too much negative water under the bridge to even think about repairing those fractured relationships.

When my mum eventually asked me to move out because I was putting too much pressure on everyone else in the family, I left quickly and got an apartment in the nearby city. I couldn't stay in that little, suffocating town anymore, where everyone knew absolutely everything about me. I had no excuse to remain there anyway; it didn't hold anything for me anymore, except for memories and bad feeling. I desired to be anonymous so I could wallow in my own misery in peace, without anyone trying to cheer me up. I didn't want anyone else to feel responsible for my own happiness when it was so clear that nothing could be done about it.

So, I upped and left, without even glancing backward.

I got everything that I ever wanted--a tiny, albeit grotty apartment that was just for me, a job in a diner where no one bothers to try and find out more about my life, and no one to speak to. Perfect.

Yet, of course, I still wasn't happy.

"Got much planned over the weekend? You have tomorrow night off, don't you?" Amy, the eighteen-year-old waitress, who was constantly chewing gum and nosing about in other people's business, asked me in her typical over-the-top fashion.

She didn't care about me of course, not at all. To her, I was just another loser waitress, but she always tried to rile me up for some reason, and she quickly discovered that my non-social life was a sore point for me. I don't know whether I was just a game to her, if she really wanted to piss me off, or if she just wanted to make herself feel better by commenting on my sad existence. Either way, it drove me crazy.

"I dunno...not really." I kept my eyes fixated on the floor as I spoke, praying that she would take the hint and leave me alone.

"Why are you so boring? You never seem to do anything!" She laughed, genuinely thinking she was joking.

I looked up and smiled blandly at her, hoping that she would assume I took the joke in light humor, but the look she was giving me suggested that she might just be able to see the vulnerable weakling behind the cold exterior mask I gave myself.

The thought of anyone seeing any of the real me filled me with an intense fear that gripped tightly onto my heart, so I instinctively turned away from her, trying to discretely wipe the frustrated tears from my eyes before they fell onto my cheeks.

Idiot! I thought to myself. What the hell are you doing?

Hiding emotion was something I thought I'd become particularly good at, but with one look, Amy--a girl I barely knew--had managed to revert me back into a blubbering mess.

"I'm going out to that new club tomorrow night with a group of friends. Do you...would you maybe want to come?" She asked, with a kindness to her tone that I hadn't ever noticed before.

Pity. It had to be.

Normally, I would have shot her down right away. Even the thought of going to a club filled me with fear--the drinking, the dancing, the socializing...it all felt a little too much for some like me. I'd never really done anything like that before, and it was intimidating as hell. Even at all the parties that had been held for me, I'd avoided alcohol due to the medication, I'd been too tired for dancing, and socializing hadn't been too much of an issue because it was with people I'd known my whole life. Plus, my best friend Daphne had always been there to protect me if things got too much.

Daphne.

I instantly forced myself to shake the image of her from my mind, in the way I always did when she cropped up. Daphne was a no-go now, there was no point in even giving her a seconds thought. I didn't want to upset myself over nothing.

"Sure." I eventually replied, distractedly. I wasn't really thinking about my answer, I just wanted the conversation done, and it was a shortcut way to achieve that.

"Oh..." Amy sounded incredibly shocked-- understandably so. "Okay cool. We're meeting up at about eight-ish so..." She looked at me strangely, as if she was wondering what the hell was going through my mind. "I'll see you there I guess."

As she wandered off, a sinking feeling set in. Why the hell had I agreed to that? I didn't want to go out to a club! Keeping my existence simple and straightforward was the only way I managed to get through everyday life. Now, I'd just agreed to something that threatened to send me into an anxiety meltdown, just to shut her up.

I was an idiot!

No, I would have to phone Amy tomorrow with a plausible excuse. I needed to get out of going. Disrupting my routine with something so terrifying could only have negative results.

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# TWO

As I walked home from work in the early hours of the morning, activity burst loudly all around me. Having lived in such a small town my whole life, it never ceased to amaze me how busy the city always was--even at a time like this, when it really should all be peaceful. The noise was annoying, it infiltrated my brain, but in a weird way, it also blocked everything else out. If I was concentrating on the constant humming, then I couldn't think. When I started to think, it could quickly get dangerous. My brain would take me to the places that I actively tried to avoid, the ones that threatened to bring on the all-encompassing depression that I spent my time trying to fight against.

I climbed up the endless stairs of my apartment building, my legs feeling like I'd been working for forty hours, rather than nine. I still got tired and achy from time to time, but it was nothing compared to the way I'd been before. That was the one real positive of not dying--at least all the side effects of being sick had virtually gone. I wouldn't have been able to cope if I still had the soul-destroying chronic pain.

As I pushed the door open to my home, I let out a sigh--not so much one of relief. It was more an escape of air from a breath that I couldn't quite seem to stop holding.

What a fucking mess.

Not just the apartment--although it certainly wasn't as tidy as I'd like it--more my life. Even the thought of having to ring Amy tomorrow was overwhelming. I was on the edge of my capability as it was and adding that one small task felt like too much.

It was ridiculous. I must have been the least able to function a little bit.

I lay down in my bed, just staring at the small crack in the ceiling, wondering if there was any chance that it could be getting bigger. If it was getting larger, did that mean the whole ceiling might come crashing down at any moment? If so, would that kill me, or would I just end up hurt?

I couldn't recall the last time I properly slept. Most of the time I just lay there, staring at that same crack, worrying about it, thinking about it, concentrating on it so hard that I didn't have to think about anything else. Every so often, a little memory would shake through--the trip to Spain, the final party, skinny dipping in the freezing cold ocean...just because--and I had to turn over onto my side, just to force them away. Reminiscing, remembering the past, it always brought a horrible black hole of sadness with it.

I didn't want to think about the old me, I didn't deserve to. When I was going to die, I was more alive than I'd been, and that cut me deep. Now that my whole future stretched out in front of me, I had no idea what to do with it, so I didn't do anything. I was cold, numb, alone, and I didn't even care enough to change.

What people couldn't understand was that I knew how to die. I understood that. It was living I still couldn't wrap my head around.

For a second, I wondered what would've happened if I'd had a normal life that wasn't plagued by illness. Would I be at university, would I be an artist, would I be a banker? I just had no idea. By the time it had come to making that sort of decision, my future was already in jeopardy, and what I was left with now was a whole lot of nothingness.

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, calling out for the sweet release of sleep--at least in my dreams I could be someone, something. I didn't have to continually be this empty, pathetic shell of a person. But of course, my mind was whirring too rapidly to even consider switching off. Sleep had never come easy for me, and it got worse the more exhausted I became.

Everything about this existence was exhausting.

***

As the light started to shine through my curtains, and my eyes flickered open, I quickly realized that I must have fallen asleep at some point--probably on and off throughout the dark hours. My head pounded, my body ached, and nausea swam around in my stomach, making me want to throw up.

This was how I woke up every single day.

Since my positive diagnosis, I hadn't woken up in a happy, carefree mood, even once. I always started the day feeling like utter crap. And the belly full of fear--that was always there too. That didn't leave me either, it stuck with me throughout the entire day, clinging to me like a bad smell. I didn't even know what exactly it was making me anxious, so to make it even worse there was no reassurance, nothing I could do to cure it. I just had to accept it I suppose, as a part of who I had become.

I padded across the floor, straight from my bedroom and into the kitchen. I switched the kettle on and poured myself some cereal, as if on autopilot. The same routine I had every single day. Then, as always, I crunched the cornflakes, feeling the spike as they slid down my throat. I didn't even taste what I was eating, I never did. I just ate it out of habit, to keep myself going. Even when hunger growled fiercely behind my ribs I never craved anything, I never felt an incessant need for anything in particular.

I just ate to stay alive, to keep this empty little life going.

My phone bleeped shrilly, alerting me to a notification from Facebook, but I resolutely ignored it. I've had my social media account from before and even though I never paid it any attention, I still had it activated. Just in case.

Being totally honest, I did check it now and again when I was feeling particularly weak, and I wanted a glimpse of back home, but it always just ended up making me feel gut-wrenchingly awful to see all my family and my old friends moving on without me. It wasn't exactly like I expected them to freeze-frame their lives because I made the unexpected choice to leave my hometown, but it still hurt to see how unnecessary I was.

If I'd been dead, things like that couldn't affect me. Things would be exactly the same for them, but it wouldn't scar me internally, I wouldn't have to witness it. They could move on, without my shadow looming in the background.

It bleeped again, the noise feeling louder than it really was in my fragile mind, so I picked up the phone to turn off the Wi-Fi. Being reminded of my pointless existence was not what I needed at that moment. But that was when I noticed, it wasn't an update from someone from my past, but a friend request from someone from this life.

Amy Acton.

Curiosity got the better of me, and without really thinking about it, I accepted, taking a few moments to read her status updates and see her most recent photos. I couldn't help but wonder how someone managed to look so damn glamorous all the time, even when she'd clearly had a few to drink. I may not have had much time for the girl, but looking at her life online, it was clear to see that she really knew how to have a good time. In every photo, every update, she was happy, enjoying herself, living life to the full.

As if she had no idea what true misery looked like.

Tears unwittingly filled my eyes, and started to fall, wetting my cheeks as they dropped. I wrapped my arms tightly around my body as if I was trying to hold myself together, as the emotion overcame me. I felt pathetic, useless, terrified, and sad all at once--a horrific combination. With the jealousy added in, for the first time in a very long time I felt something new. The desire to change.

I couldn't carry on being this person forever; it would end up destroying me completely.

I wasn't sure how long I cried for, but by the time the tears dried up, something inside of me had shifted. I suddenly felt angry, really, really mad. Throughout everything I'd been through, anger had never really even been a consideration of mine. Not even right in the beginning, when I first got all of the bad news. I just sort of...took it in my stride.

Now, it was all of me.

I was raging because I didn't know what to do, I was angry because I didn't want to be like this anymore, I was mad because none of it was fair. This misery wasn't something that I'd chosen; it was just external circumstances that had happened to me, out of my control. And that wasn't fair.

I pummeled my fists down onto the kitchen counter, just feeling everything for the very first time. Negative thoughts swirled violently through my mind: it isn't fair, it's not my fault, why me?

But then it hit me, like a smack in the face, shocking me into submission. Sure, everything that had happened hadn't been fair, but I wasn't totally blameless. I couldn't control external factors, but I could have reacted better. I could have chosen to live a positive life--the only person who was at fault for that was me.

It isn't fair couldn't get me anywhere. The only person that had the power to change that was me.

I remembered everyone's shocked, saddened faces when I said I was going. Much as I'd wound everyone up, they didn't want me to leave to town completely, they couldn't understand why I absolutely had to go. Of course, they couldn't get it. I had no idea how rare it was to go through what I'd been through, so I don't know if there was actually anyone that would understand my experience.

And even if there was someone out there who had gone through exactly the same as me, they probably would have grasped onto life with both hands, having almost lost it.

No one would have turned their back on happiness like I'd done.

My mum's face flickered through my mind--an image I hadn't thought about in a while. We still had weekly phone calls, which mainly consisted of me convincing her that I was all fine, that life was wonderful, that sort of nonsense, but I tried not to remember her too much in between that. I kept her firmly in the back of my mind, with all the things I couldn't deal with.

Logically, I completely understood why she'd been forced to ask me to leave, but that didn't mean it didn't upset me.

Despite all of that, she was the only one that still tried to communicate with me. Everyone else gave up after a while when I didn't answer their calls, texts, emails, instant messages, and never returned them either. She was the only one to stick around, and I'd done nothing but resent her for it.

I loved her, but I spent a lot of time pushing her away too.

On instinct, I grabbed my phone and dialed her number, just wanting to hear her voice. The phone rang and rang, but clearly, she wasn't home because she didn't answer. For some reason, that hurt me more than anything else, even though I totally understood. I'd been out of the loop for such a long time, and I couldn't just expect people to telepathically know that I suddenly needed them. It was never like I normally went out of my way to phone home, so why would my mum know that I was doing so now.

I knew all of that, but my feelings would never be rational.

'Are you still coming tonight? <3 xxx ☺' A surprise message pinged up in my Facebook inbox from Amy.

The noise that normally did nothing more than irritate me now filled me with a little warmth. She seemed to genuinely want to hang out with me, no matter how grouchy I always was with her. She seemed unsure of me yesterday, but to go out of her way to check that I was still going out, it made me feel special. Sure, this girl may have been three years younger than me, but that didn't mean that I couldn't try to enjoy myself with her--just for once. Even if it was completely out of character for me.

Maybe that was a good thing--being me certainly hadn't worked for me so far.

'Yes. Looking forward to it x.' I replied on instinct before my sensibilities could kick in and I changed my mind. I couldn't back out now, not after agreeing twice. That would just be weird. I'd just forced myself into it, and I actually didn't feel quite as bad about that as I assumed I would.

'Ok, great!! Meet you by the chippy at 8? Xoxoxo' came the very quick reply, making me think that she was waiting for it.

'C u then!'

I stared at the messages for a few moments before a horrifying thought hit me. After seeing all the wonderful pictures of Amy looking fabulous on her typical night's out, I was going to have to wear something decent tonight, just to fit in. I couldn't wear my usual skinny-jeans-and-hoodie combo to a club--especially not if she was going to be in a bodycon dress, stilettos, and amazing looking makeup.

Oh God, I couldn't even remember the last time I wore makeup!

No, I was going to have to make much more of an effort to fit in with Amy and her crew. I certainly didn't want to stand out for being scruffy. I needed to at least attempt blending in.

I stomped over to my minimalistic wardrobe and pulled everything out in disgust. Didn't I have a red dress at some point? What the hell happened to that? I mustn't have brought it with me when I moved to the city. I wasn't exactly thinking straight when I left, so that made sense. It was probably hanging around in my mum's house somewhere, gathering dust.

A pit of dread started in my stomach and burst through my veins like an icy spell. I didn't usually go outside on my days off from work; I tried to negotiate it so I don't have to, but it looked like today would have to be different. I definitely wasn't planning on going clothes shopping, and I didn't particularly want to either, but what other option did I have? I couldn't wear any of the crappy outfits I owned. Not a chance!

A million-and-one excuses swarmed around in my brain, telling me desperately that I needed to get out of the night out. That way, I could curl up on the sofa, blankly staring at the TV screen, trying to stop my brain from thinking, like I usually did.

But if I did that, then things would never change. And I was really starting to believe that change was the only way forward for me.

I should at least give it a go.

I knew from past experiences that if I didn't go out now, after I'd finally said yes, then Amy wouldn't ask me again. We weren't close enough for her to persist. And there certainly wasn't anyone else about to invite me anywhere.

Basically, it was now or never.

I felt like I was at a crossroads--did I carry on down the bleak path I'd been going, or did I try and make things a little better for myself? Sure, the way things were was comfortable and familiar, but it certainly wasn't great. After the swirl and range of emotions that had been around me today, I wasn't sure that even if I did choose to keep things as they were, that I would still feel the numbness that allowed me to carry on.

That may have gone forever.

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# THREE

I sighed deeply, allowing my trembling hands to pull on some clothes, my body preparing itself to go to the dreaded outside. I could physically see myself shaking as I glanced quickly at my reflection in the mirror, before grabbing my keys and forcing myself out into the harsh, cold air. I sucked in a deep, painful breath then fixed my eyes firmly on the ground, where they would stay for the whole walk.

You have to do this, Lara. I told myself. Too much has happened; you cannot carry on as you are. But even as I thought these things, they felt alien, disconnected from me. Somehow completely unreal.

I was acutely aware of the nameless bodies racing past me, and each one was filling me with that horrifying, panicky feeling that I detested. I hated being outside without a solid purpose, without knowing exactly where I was going. I didn't shop enough to know where to look, and I was finding that really hard. I wasn't at all comfortable with being out of my routine.

But I had to be. I had no choice. If I kept remembering that, then I would surely find a way to get through it.

I concentrated on my breathing to keep me focused. In...out...in...out... keeping my mind solely on that allowed me to ignore the rest of the world, and that was what I needed.

I spotted the first familiar-named high street store and stepped inside. The bright, intense white lights immediately sent my worry-levels into overdrive. I tried to hide myself in amongst the racks of clothes while I calmed down a little, while I caught my breath once more, but it was too difficult. All the vivid colored fabrics blurred into one, and it made my headache return with a vengeance.

"Can I help you?" A syrupy tone blasted into my eardrums. I turned around to see an extremely tanned, tall girl wearing bright red lipstick and a stark black pencil skirt. Unlike my scruffy, unkempt appearance, she was pristine and beautiful, without a hair out of place.

To say I found her daunting would be a massive understatement. She was like a powerhouse of intimidation! "I...I...uh..." I shook my head rapidly, trying anything to make her go away. She looked at me a little like I was mental, but I didn't care.

My feet took on a life of their own, and before I knew it, I'd walked back out into the--now comforting--fresh air. I raced along the street quickly, desperate to get away from that shop and that girl. That was all just too much.

I found myself wandering into a shop I knew well--the grocery store I got all my essentials from. I grabbed an ice cold can of fizzy pop, feeling the familiar, reassuring tin between my fingers. I instantly felt calmer, knowing where I was and what I was doing. This was my comfort zone, I was okay here. This, I could do.

After I'd paid the cashier--who I minimally interacted with at least twice a week--I sipped the liquid, taking stock for a moment. I needed to go somewhere that I could get something nice, without having to deal with pushy shop assistants. I just couldn't cope with that--this day was difficult enough for me, and I really didn't want to give up. Not over that. I felt like this was my one and only shot, and I didn't want my own stupid insecurities to wreck that for me.

I swiftly spotted a friendly-looking charity shop, which didn't instantly fill me with horror, so I chose to go into there, hoping desperately I would find exactly what I was looking for right away to save me any more trauma. Once inside I tugged my way through the clothes, inhaling the musky scent as I did. I kept glancing around, praying that no one would come over to talk to me, and for once, my luck must have been in, because I was left well alone.

I grabbed and examined a black jumpsuit, wondering if it would cover me up enough to be considered decent, before realizing that it was much too large for my skinny frame. I hit me that it was going to be challenging for me to find something that actually suited me, that made me look anywhere nearly as good as Amy and her very fashionable friends. I didn't have any curves or boobs to hold anything up, which was going to be a problem. I used to dress well, before, but then my friends used to rush around to help me because I was sick. I was still skinny--maybe a little less so than now--but I had a reason for it. No one was going to judge my outfit then, whereas now...

I pulled out my phone and searched 'good outfit for skinny girl' online, whilst my heart pounded furiously. I felt like such an idiot. At this age, I should have known a bit more about fashion, about what suited me, but I just had no idea. I hadn't thought about it, I'd never needed to.

It was just another thing that was so much easier when I was dying.

All the best tips seemed to suggest a knee-length flared skirt, with kitten heels, a vest top, and a jacket. That was an idea I would've never considered on my own, but the girl's in the accompanying photographs looked good, and it wasn't a dress so that was perfect. I wasn't sure if I was ready for a dress. I didn't think being too exposed would fill me with any confidence. I needed to fit in but be comfortable too. That was important.

I thought back over my wardrobe at home, trying to remember what I'd seen when I looked through it before. I knew for certain that I had a black vest top and matching cropped jacket, so that saved me getting those. I hadn't worn them for ages, but I was pretty sure they would still fit.

So that just left the skirt and the heels.

Heels...could I do heels?

I grabbed the three skirts that were in my size, and ambled awkwardly over to the counter, deciding to tackle that part of the outfit first.

"Do you have a changing room?" I shyly asked the awkward-looking man that was standing behind the till.

"I...uh...no." He announced, confused, glancing around the room in surprise.

My heart sank as a heat consumed my body. How embarrassing! Was that an odd question? Was it common knowledge that there was nowhere to try stuff on in a charity shop?

The guy must've seen my humiliated expression because he continued, speaking far too quickly. "We have a stock room; I think there's a mirror in there..." He trailed off, blushing furiously.

"That would be great." It was nice not to be the only one that was struggling to hold a conversation. It made me feel a little more at home--relieved, in fact. I followed behind him, unable to think of anything to say to make either of us feel any better, but that was okay because he stayed silent too. It was painful, but I could cope with it because it wasn't purely my fault.

"Here." He indicated too wildly with his arms, to a dusty storage room, absolutely filled with crap. There was stuff everywhere, covering every surface. Not exactly the sleek, luxurious changing rooms I would have gotten at the high fashion store, but this would have to do.

I tiptoed inside, avoiding everything in my way, and finally spotted a cracked full-length mirror in the corner of the room. Sighing deeply, I span around to check that the door had been shut behind me, before tugging on the clothes.

The first skirt was bubble-style and managed to make me look like I was trying to be a teenager, and also pregnant at the same time. I whipped it off quickly, wanting to spend as little time in it as possible. It just made me feel sad. The second one was a deep red, swing skirt. I didn't know why I picked it up really; I wasn't sure that it would suit me. It was just one of the only ones out there in my size.

Just as I was pulling it over my buttocks, the door swung open, making me jump. A small squeal emanated from my throat as I practically tumbled to the ground in fright.

"Ooh, I am sorry dear." An elderly, homely looking woman chuckled at her mistake. "Mark just told me that there was someone in here. My memory is dreadful...ooh that does look lovely on you!" She exclaimed, finally taking the time to notice me. "Are you going to get it? I think it makes you look really smart."

"Umm..." I replied, knowing that my cheeks were flaming red. "Yeah..." I blurted out, just trying to cover up my shame. I didn't know what else to say, so I just stood there, slack-jawed until she left, and as soon as she did I changed back quicker than I'd ever moved before. I fully intended to just run out, to escape this all-out humiliating situation, but she grabbed me before I got the chance.

"I'll give you a discount." She winked at me.

"Because I embarrassed you."

***

At home, I finally got to have a look at myself in the full outfit. I couldn't buy any heels--there was no way I was going in any other shops after all of that--but it didn't really matter because actually, I owned a pair of boots that went quite well.

I sighed deeply at the sight of myself, instantly zoning in on my long, dark hair which swung limply just past my shoulders, looking as scruffy as always. What the hell was I going to do with it when I went out later? It looked a bit lank when it was straightened, and curls never seemed to stay in. Maybe I would have to put it up into some sort of style?

Urgh, this was turning out to be more work than it was worth!

I scanned down to my face. My deep blue eyes were surrounded by black shadows and filled with a melancholy that I wasn't sure I could disguise no matter what I did. My skin was pale, freckled and filled with patches of redness. The only good thing about my face was the dimples that showed up when I smiled--but I hadn't seen them for a very long time.

It was going to take a lot of makeup to sort this mess out.

All of this had made me ugly. I was a plain Jane before I got sick, but now I was just an ugly person. It seemed to emanate from every pore, as if my face was screaming for an escape, just like my mind.

"Lara Rogers, you really are rubbish," I whispered to myself. This thought should have made me feel sad, angry, upset, anything...but I was still just filled with numbness.

That numbness that I couldn't escape from.

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# FOUR

My heart was racing as I stared at myself in the mirror yet again, my palms were sweating, my breaths were labored. I couldn't do this, I just couldn't. But at the same time, I had to.

I was wearing the outfit I'd chosen previously, and I'd tied up my hair up into a simple chignon that I found a tutorial for online. I'd applied a little makeup--just enough to make me look human, without going over the top. All-in-all, I didn't look too bad. I didn't look great, but it was the best I

could do. It was the most attractive I'd been in years at any rate--even if that wasn't saying much!

It would have to be enough.

Tick, tick, tick.

Each second felt torturous, but under all of that, I could feel something else too...a little anticipation, adrenaline. Although deep down I was aware that this night was probably going to be awful, I was proud of myself for forcing myself out, for not sitting in, for not following the dead-end, boring routine that I'd been in for over a year. I was finally doing something different, something proactive, and for someone like me, that was something to be happy about.

I clicked on Facebook once more, hoping that Amy would've sent me another message to confirm the night's details--just so I could be absolutely certain that the plan was still in place--but of course, she hadn't. Why would she have? Normally people didn't need reassuring every few hours.

It was sixteen minutes to eight, and I could no longer wait inside--I was driving myself absolutely crazy! I decided to set off early, do the five-minute walk slowly, allowing myself to get some air, to calm down, to appear normal. That way when Amy met me, I wouldn't look like the insane mess that I really was. Anything to tone that down could only be a good thing!

The wind rushed painfully past my ears and I became acutely aware of how cold it was. I hugged my coat tighter around me, wanting to block the elements out. My cheeks felt pink with the iciness in the air, my eyes started to sting, and my throat began to ache as I raced along. Why did people ever want to socialize in this weather? Autumn should be a time for cuddling up indoors with a mind-numbing DVD playing. The way I normally spent my evenings.

Why was I doing this again?

As I reached the chip shop much quicker than I intended to, I was forced to stand awkwardly outside, people watching, praying the minutes away.

Tick, tick, tick.

Oh God, it felt like forever. Why wasn't she here yet? I felt like people were looking at me strangely, and I was becoming increasingly self-conscious.

Tick, tick, tick.

Every second was even longer out here than it had been at home. I tapped my foot in anticipation and annoyance, wanting the wait to be over more than anything in the world. Why didn't I just remain indoors a little while longer? Why had I been so damn impatient?

Then, the deadline passed.

8.02pm, and still no one was there.

Go home, I told myself. But my feet remained frozen on the spot, waiting intently. This is ridiculous!

I decided that I must've misread the messages or missed a last-minute cancellation. I tried to distract my disappointment by reminding myself that I didn't want to go out anyway. I imagined all of the people I would've been forced to talk to, to interact with. I thought about behaving like a normal human being for an unbearable extended period of time. I considered how much happier I would be at home.

This was a good thing. I experimented, and it failed, but that didn't matter because at least I'd tried...

"Hi, Lara!" Amy's happy-sounding voice burst through my negative thought pattern, and I span around, giving her a weak smile. After all that, she was here. And now I was going to have to face the night with those horrible thoughts floating around in my brain.

"Hey." I shoved my hands into my pockets awkwardly, not sure what I was supposed to do with them. Suddenly they felt like odd, unnecessary body parts and I was intensely aware of them.

I didn't used to be this socially uncomfortable. I used to find it really easy to be around people, even those I didn't know very well, but now that I didn't know who I was exactly, I wasn't sure how to behave. It was weird--I didn't know how much of it had been brought on by myself, and how much of it was just me. I felt like I'd been out of the loop of 'normal' for such a long time, that I no longer had any idea how to just be.

"Shall we go?" Amy laughed, tugging on my sleeve, completely oblivious to my internal insanity.

"Aren't you freezing?" I felt compelled to ask, looking at her fully exposed, very tanned limbs. I was shivering and I was relatively layered up. Amy was wearing a tiny dress and heels. That was literally it. How could she even move? I couldn't understand it.

She just laughed my comment off, without a care in the world. "I'll be drunk in a moment, then I won't feel it." She announced, as if this was common sense.

She pulled me towards a dingy-looking pub, reassuring me that it was much nicer inside than it looked. I was barely breathing, hardly coping, barely surviving anymore. I suddenly desperately didn't want to do this, I wanted to go home, to go back to being the me that I'd become. I kept asking myself what I was doing, why I was there.

This is going to be a huge mistake, I thought, but it was far too late to turn back now.

As soon as we stepped through the doors, a hot blast of air hit my cheeks, instantly warming me up. As I thawed, I started to hear my heart pounding furiously against my rib cage. If I could hear it, did that mean everyone else could too? It felt like the entire pub should've been vibrating with the sheer velocity of it.

Shut up! I warned myself. Get it together.

Amy waved to a table containing three girls and two guys--all who appeared to be as young and fashionable as her. This was going to be so awkward; I was going to stand out like a sore thumb, which was the last thing I needed. Blending into the background, I could do well. Listening to the conversation, but not being included, was something I could handle. But this...

I looked down at my oddly put-together charity shop outfit and thought about how little makeup I was wearing on my pale features, I remembered how happy I was, putting together my ridiculous hairstyle. All of that now made me feel like a complete and utter idiot. It was all pointless! Compared to this lot, I looked a total state.

"Sal, Kimberly, Benji, James and Kia." Amy indicated to her friends in turn, and their names floated in and out of my brain in a heartbeat. How the hell was I going to get through this when I'd already forgotten what to call them? "This is Lara, from work."

The disinterested wave that they all gave, suggested that Amy hadn't actually told them anything about me, which I found weirdly reassuring. It meant they'd have no expectations of me, no preconceived notions. I wasn't already 'the boring girl' or 'the dying girl'. I could just be 'Lara' and I actually quite liked that. It felt a little like the fresh start I needed.

Now all I needed to do was not mess it up!

"What does everyone want to drink?" One of the guys--I had no idea which one--asked, looking around the table as he stood up.

Everyone replied almost at once: "A white wine."

"Sambuca and lemonade."

"Jack Daniels and coke."

"Wine too!"

I smiled to myself, wondering how the hell this guy was going to remember all of those drinks. I barely caught the names of them all, and I was listening quite intently.

Suddenly I noticed that he was staring expectantly at me. "I..." I started to stutter, my face going bright red. I almost started to shake with nerves. What did he want? Should I say something?

"Do you want a drink?" He finally asked, clarifying his intentions, while making the moment even more embarrassing.

"Erm..." I didn't think he meant me too. He only met me one second ago! I wouldn't even know what to order. "Err a coke...please, thank you." I tried to smile, but my mouth felt a little stiff with anxiety.

"Coke!" Amy exclaimed in disbelief. "No, get her a wine. She needs to loosen up a bit." She grinned wildly at me as if she was actually doing me a favor.

"Erm, I..." I tried to protest, but it was too late. He was already gone.

Oh, God. I hadn't exactly planned for my first-time drinking alcohol, to be with strangers. But I couldn't exactly not drink the wine now. That would be weird and would draw unnecessary attention to myself. I would just have to drink this one. Then I could think of an excuse for next time.

One wouldn't affect me, I would be fine.

I would have to be.

The guy placed the drink down in front of me and I watched everyone else take a quick sip from their glasses, so I imitated the action, intending to take it really slowly and...

Oh, my God. What the hell was this? It was horrible, all bitter tasting. How the hell did people drink this stuff? It tasted like poison! I thought wine was supposed to be a posh-person drink. Why would you put yourself through this torture if you didn't absolutely have to? How was I going to finish this entire glass?

I felt my face screw up in disgust, and I had to literally force my features to rearrange before anyone saw me.

"...and then, he started to..."

"...why did you say..."

"...she didn't even think about him..."

The conversation flowed easily around the table, but I was stuck in the mental combat with my glass of wine, only picking out snippets of it. I needed to get this drunk, get it gone. Everyone else had almost finished theirs and I was still struggling to work up the courage to take a second sip. This was awful, how could I blend into the background when I still had this mountain to overcome?

Here goes nothing...

I lifted the glass, tentatively pressing it up against my lips. I looked at the others, in turn, barely listening to their words, just concentrating on how much attention they were paying to me--which thankfully was none. I tried not to breathe in, I didn't want to smell it. I prepared myself, tipped it back slowly, feeling the bubbles touch my tongue.

Urgh. This is foul.

And yet...

Somehow as the warm liquid made its way down my throat, and my head became fuzzier, the taste suddenly didn't bother me quite as much. In fact, maybe it wasn't so bad after all. Maybe I was wrong before. I would have to try it again, just in case.

***

Three hours and endless wine later, it was safe to safe that I was wasted! But I really enjoyed the fuzzy warm feeling deep inside of me. It was making me happier, more sociable, more interesting. On top of that, it was making this whole night a lot easier to deal with. The other people in Amy's group had actually started to warm to me, despite the odds being stacked against me. It felt like we might actually all be becoming friends-- they'd added me on Facebook at any rate. Luckily, by the time that conversation came up, I was too tipsy to be embarrassed about my bare-minimal profile page to care.

"...why would he cheat on me with her?" Kai whined into her drink, as we all made sympathetic noises. She was definitely a weepy drunk, and it seemed that her she'd a bad breakup not that long ago, which certainly didn't help things.

"Men are all bastards!" Amy screeched loudly, causing the rest of the girls to burst into giggles.

We were in some unbearably noisy nightclub and I was actually having a good time. This was the sort of place I'd always been sure that I would hate, but it seemed that I was wrong. At one point, I was even dancing! Me, on the dance floor--a place I never thought I'd find myself.

Sal and Benji were furiously snogging in the corner of the room, completely ignoring the rest of the group--a common occurrence, apparently--and James left with some random girl an hour or so ago, so it was just us four girls, laughing, joking and bitching about boys. The way people of our age group were supposed to. This was just a normal night out to them, but to me, this was the best thing that had happened to me in forever!

"Except Nick!" Amy teased in a singsong voice, causing Kimberly to laugh and smack her softly.

"

Me and Nick aren't a thing!" She replied happily. From her reaction, I could tell that there was a long growing story there, somewhere. I would have to ask her about it at some point. I liked Kimberly a lot. She was a little older than the others too--she just didn't look it, like I did--and there was just something lovable about her. I couldn't help but really want her to like me. She was just the sort of person I'd have sought out to befriend before.

Not that I was thinking about before. Not now. I was having a good time, and I didn't want any negativity or worry to ruin that.

"So, why don't you tell us a bit more about you?" Amy turned to face me, and my heart jumped into my throat. I might've been drunk, but I wasn't ready to discuss anything about my life. How could I get out of this? There had to be a way. "I've been working with you for ages and you're always

seriously quiet."

"I...er...what do you want to know?" I stuttered, trying to buy myself some time.

"Well I've never seen you with a guy, or heard you talk about one, or even seen you text one, so I guess you've been single for all that time. But, you lived somewhere else before, right? What was your last boyfriend like? Ooh, was he horrid? Is that why you had to escape?" Amy got excited as if she realized that she'd suddenly hit the nail on the head as if she'd figured me all out.

"Um...I haven't really..."

They all turned to face me, as the penny dropped one-by-one. I shrunk inside myself, almost physically recoiling. It was only the booze-swilling around in my stomach--making me someone that I wasn't--that stopped me from turning and running out the club right away.

No, no, no. I did not want this tonight!

"You've never...?" Kai asked.

"Erm...no, not really...I..." A cold shame washed over me under their scrutinizing gaze.

"Never had a boyfriend?" Amy continued, her eyes widening at the thought.

"Well, I..." Redness didn't just fill my cheeks, it consumed my whole body. I was so embarrassed, so stupid. Explaining this was almost worse than telling the story about my near-death.

"But you've..." She made a funny, nodding gesture.

Oh God, this can't be happening. She can't mean...

My mind freaked out at all of the horrors that were about to be unleashed. My insides twisted themselves up in knots, as the gazes upon me became too intense to handle. I need an escape!

"Um...sort of, I..."

"Lara, are you a virgin?" Kimberly finally asked, breaking the awkwardness slightly with her straightforward nature. Her bluntness was welcome, yet utterly unbearable, all at the same time.

"Well, I have..."

"Lara?" Her voice turned stern. She was willing me to just answer the question and get it over with. She was right, I decided, so I complied semi-willingly.

I hesitantly nodded.

The girls all squealed in unison, while I wanted the ground to swallow me up whole.

"Why?" Amy shrieked, seemingly loving this. I was the most exciting that I'd ever been to her. "Maybe we just need to get you laid. Maybe that's why you're so uptight."

"I...um...it's not...I don't..."

Kimberly's expression finally turned somber. It was as if she suddenly noticed that there was really something to this, that my discomfort was way more than normal. To my relief, she rapidly changed the subject, distracting the others in the process. "I love this song! Let's go dance."

Luckily, because everyone was so drunk, the switch didn't seem too weird, and we all followed behind, giggling like idiots.

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# FIVE

"Oh God." I groaned as I sat up in my bed.

I felt like I was going to die. For real this time. My head was throbbing painfully, my mouth felt like sawdust; my stomach was rolling around in a disgusting manner. Death would've been preferable to feeling this way. Urgh God, why the hell did people ever do this to themselves? Was this even normal for a hangover? And what time did I even get to sleep last night? I could barely even remember getting home--which went some way to explaining why I was still in most of the clothes I'd been wearing the night before.

My phone pinged loudly, and the sound was unbearably intrusive. I grabbed it, trying to see past how glaringly bright the screen was. My hypersensitivity to light was killer, but for some reason, I needed to see who was trying to contact me.

A Facebook message from Kimberly flicked up in front of me. 'Hey, Lara, fun night last night--I'm dying now though! We should hang out again sometime; it was really lovely to meet you. Kim xx'

There was also one from Amy, which she must have sent as soon as she got home. 'Ahaha! I can't believe I kissed that guy--he was hot though! Thanks for coming out, you were way more fun than I expected. You were pretty badass actually. Did you get home okay? Ammmmeeeessss xxxxx'

And then there was a selection of awful-looking photographs that Kai had tagged me in. Much as they made me feel even more nauseated than before, I couldn't help but laugh. I looked so dreadful when I was drunk, there was no avoiding that, especially not when the evidence was sitting right in front of me, for the whole world to see... But, aside from the hangover regret, I actually had a really good time. I felt glad that I'd bust out of my routine, I was happy that I tried something new. If not, I wouldn't have met any of those awesome new people, nor had such an amazing time. Of course, this sickly feeling wasn't pleasant, but it was actually worth it. I felt like this huge step would lead to some great things for me.

Just as I was poised to reply to everyone's messages, the nausea became overwhelming. I started to feel hot, sweaty, anxious, so I rushed off to the bathroom to spend the next few hours vomiting on and off, in between sleep.

***

As I rolled into work, a few hours later, I still felt like death. Amy was already there, looking about as worse-for-wear as myself, which was relieving--at least I wasn't suffering an abnormal hangover. There was a point where I'd been genuinely worried about that. I was actually quite used to seeing Amy in this state, but I'd never been alongside her, and it felt kinda nice. It bonded us in a strange, but awesome way.

The first thing she did when she saw me was burst out laughing--an action I immediately mimicked. This was weird, having a smile, a giggle, an inside joke. It shifted something inside of me. I felt...sort of happy. Happier than I had done in a very long time at least. It was like a small piece of the weight that I'd been carrying around on my shoulders for an extraordinarily long time, had lifted--a sensation I never expected to feel.

The shift at the diner went much quicker with someone to gossip alongside, and by the end of the night, the crappy, sickly feeling was still there, but so was a small portion of elation. I sort of felt like, maybe--just maybe--life wasn't so bad after all.

It was amazing how one night had seemingly changed everything for me. How a boozy night out with some girls had opened up my future into something completely different.

As I arrived back to my home, a positive shimmer had overcome me, causing me to do something that I hadn't done, in a very long time. I checked my emails. This might have been something simple to anyone else, but to me, it was my main link to back home. Any texts or instant messages had been deleted, but I hadn't gone into my inbox for a very long time. I just knew that even if there wasn't anything recent, the old messages will undoubtedly be there. And now--for some reason--I felt brave enough to go there.

Maybe I would go as far to send some replies!

Much to my surprise, there was something new in there. An email that had been sent a little over a month ago.

"Hi, Lara,

It's me again. I hope you're well. I don't know why I keep emailing you, I'm not even sure if you're reading these messages! I guess I just want to keep you in the loop. Bradley and I are engaged now..."

"What?" I scraped my chair back and jumped up in surprise. "Engaged?"

All of a sudden, I totally regretted my decision to do this, to open up this big black hole. I should have known that it would end in despair--it always did. Any happiness that I'd been feeling got sucked back into the vacuum of sadness, as I read and re-read Daphne's words over and over again.

The Bradley that she was referring to in her email was my boyfriend. Until I got really sick that is. Then I broke it off with him. I didn't want him to get sucked into all the hospital visits and crappy days I was having. I wanted to save him. I didn't want him to be stuck as the guy whose girlfriend had died--especially not at such a young age. It was one step too far, a burden I never wanted him to have.

Of course, our relationship had been all very tame, very high school. We barely even kissed--but since it was the only romance I'd ever experienced, it was important to me. That was what made the events that transpired after our melancholy breakup, that much more hurtful.

I hadn't expected him to hook up with Daphne only a few weeks later, but by that time I was so involved in what was going on with myself, that I didn't really care. They told me about it-- practically asked for my permission--and I told them it was fine. I was in a whirlwind of pills and drips, so it was at the bottom of my priority list. I just wanted everyone else to be happy.

Then, I became the 'dying girl', and I was taken on a rollercoaster of distracting fun--which took my mind off of everything. Even if there were pangs of jealousy, I barely had time to experience them. It wasn't until I ended up in the city, with far too much time on my hands, that I started to feel shitty about it all. That I started to view it as some kind of betrayal.

They'd been together now, for longer than I was with him, but a small part of me still felt like he was 'mine'. Of course, that was stupid. We were a meaningless, short-term, school relationship. They'd properly kissed, undoubtedly slept together, and now they were engaged. They were going to get married. I was nothing more than ancient history, and yet it still stung like hell. I didn't even want Bradley; not really, it was only bitterness that had me feeling this way.

Just another irrational thought that I couldn't get rid of, however hard I tried.

But for Daphne to tell me that massive news so casually, as if my feelings on it all wouldn't matter at all? It was all too much for me to take in. Even reading it for the hundredth time, the pain was still there.

What did she want me to say? Congratulations? I hope you have a happy life together, regardless of how fucking awful things are for me? Well done for being so God damn happy?

Without even thinking, I grabbed my keys and rushed out of the door--desperate to get some fresh air. Frustrated tears pricked my eyes as I pounded down the stairs, and much to my annoyance one even dared to trickle down my cheek. I brushed it away angrily, stomping my feet as I went.

They didn't deserve my tears, I shouldn't have been upset over them, so why the hell was I?

I kept my eyes fixed on the ground as I moved, not caring where I was going, just needing to be outside, away from the claustrophobic four walls that I'd been stuck inside for way too long.

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# SIX

"Urgh!" I woke up, feeling like crap for the second time in a row. At least this time it wasn't a hangover. It was more to do with the fact that I cried myself to sleep in a pathetic heap at about two a.m.

It wasn't so much that Bradley and Daphne were together--as much as that did hurt--they were probably way more suited to each other than we ever were. I think it was more the pain that came from the life that I could have had if none of this had happened. Opening that email had torn open a painful wound in my chest--one that mourned for the life I'd missed out on. Yes, from the illness, but also from my own inability to grasp the second chance that I'd been given. If I really thought about it, it was far from normal; the way that I'd behaved. I was one of the lucky ones. Everyone else had been right about me. I just hadn't wanted to hear it--any of it.

But how could I change that now? Was it even possible, or was I just too far gone? I was no longer naive enough to believe that one night was enough to transform things. If I really intended to improve my existence, it was going to be a long and challenging journey--one that I needed my eyes wide open for.

Was that something I was willing to do? Or was I too exhausted from living to even bother trying?

Ring, ring...

My phone piped up, shaking me from my thought pattern. The word 'Mum' flashed up on the screen, which was really not what I needed, not while I was wallowing so deep in self-pity. I wasn't sure how I was going to keep up the upbeat act when I was feeling more dreadful than normal. It wasn't easy on the best of days!

I sighed deeply, trying to mentally prepare myself, before answering. "Hello?" I croaked, sounding about as dreadful as I felt.

"Hi Lara, how are you?" My mum's voice was warm and comforting, just like normal. It was familiar but not as reassuring as I'm certain she wanted it to be. She used this tone to try and invite me in. She was desperate for me to open up to her and tell her the truth about my feelings and my life, it was just so obvious. But I kept on with my little white lies, and she carried on pretending that she believed them. It was just the way we'd become.

I was always close to my mum when I was growing up--or as close as you can be, being the oldest of three children with a dad you don't know--one that vanished before you were even born. But when I became ill, she changed. She became all efficient, focused only on my treatment and what we could all do to help me. It was kind of a nightmare. She just couldn't seem to admit that I was dying.

Although, it seems now that she was much smarter than we all thought. Maybe she was the only one that could see that it wasn't the end for me after all...

All of it took its toll on her marriage to my stepdad. He just couldn't seem to do anything right by her. The eldest of my stepbrothers, Phil--the youngest is Jack--tried to tell me what was going on, he tried to get me to intervene, but I really was too ill by then. I was spending most of my days with my head over the toilet, bugged out on meds, or sleeping. I was no use to anyone; I didn't feel like I could do anything to help anyone else. Phil did his best, but he was so young--it was all too much responsibility for him.

Apparently, my stepdad had almost walked out more than once, and that was after I was starting to get better. When I'd become kind of a bitch. I was almost the reason for them breaking up, for which I now felt awful for. They were such a good couple, he really made my mum happy, and I nearly destroyed that for the pair of them, selfishly because I had to live. That was a massive part of the reason why I had to move. When mum sprung it on me, I'd already half made the decision to go anyway. She did it out of desperation and had clearly felt guilty for it ever since, which was why she wanted some honesty from me and was also the reason that I never gave it.

"I'm good thanks, mum, how are you?" I said, sitting up in my bed, yawning and rubbing my eyes, willing the fog in my brain to disappear.

"Do you have a cold?" She replied tentatively, completely avoiding my question.

"Um, yeah. Maybe." I couldn't think of any explanation that was better. I certainly didn't want to say it was because I was crying until some silly hour in the morning--there was no way that would go down well. "How are Carter and the kids?" Phil and Jack were only twelve and eight-years-old, respectively when I left. They really were great kids, but unfortunately, they only really knew me as 'the sick girl that got all the attention'--at least until I vanished. I highly doubted they missed me. I imagined they were glad that I was gone. Not only could they can now have some focus, the arguments between their parents had likely subsided too.

I felt like I didn't really know them anyway, that I was never properly given the chance. Before I got sick, I was never really interested, and afterward...well, it was too late then.

"Everyone's great." She snapped, hurriedly. She never wanted to talk about them; she always wanted to discuss me and would do anything to turn the conversation back around. I didn't think she understood how good it would feel for the conversation to be more mutual. Maybe she didn't realize that I was actually interested in their lives too. Maybe she figured it would be insensitive to tell me how good things were, without me there. I wouldn't have minded, not one bit. I was perfectly aware that the way things turned out was all my fault. "How's work? What have you been up to?" Her tone was anxious as she spoke, which for some strange reason really aggravated me.

"I heard about Bradley and Daphne." I spat out, wanting to shock her. I was tetchy from my lack of sleep and also annoyed that we always had to talk about me. I was also pretty wound up that mum must have known about the engagement, but she never told me. There was no escape from that sort of big news in a tiny town.

"I...um...oh..." She stuttered, unable to find the right words. I sat in silence, gripping the phone tightly between my fingers. I could physically feel myself seething; I could feel the rage bursting through me as she stumbled over silly little filler words. She should have told me, she should have prepared me. It should have been her that I heard it from.

Although, maybe she thought I would never find out. She must have noticed how little I talked to everyone back home, and she also knew that I never visited. Maybe she'd had my best intentions at heart but had gone about it in the wrong way. I couldn't blame her for that. After all, I'd made enough mistakes of my own.

As those words flooded through my brain, the hot anger flowing through me subsided. I needed to remember that I'd been so difficult to deal with, and she probably had no idea what to say to me. I had to remember to not always blame the rest of the world for every little thing.

"It's okay, mum." I finally gave in, blowing air out of my mouth. "I don't care." Of course, I was lying, but she didn't need to know that. "I'm fine, works okay--as normal. I haven't been up to much." I paused. "Well, I went out with some friends the other night..."

"Friends?" Mum leaped on that information excitedly, just as I knew she would. This was the first time I'd ever mentioned anything to do with socializing since I'd moved, so it was bound to pique her interest. "Who are these friends?"

"Um, Amy from work, Kimberly, Kai...a few others." It suddenly hit me that I should probably play it down a bit in case none of them ever wanted to see me again, but it was too late for that. Mum had smelled a story and she was all over it.

"Yeah? Tell me all about them." I could hear the nervy, happiness in her voice and I couldn't help but smile. I was glad that I'd finally said something to make her feel good for the first time in forever. I would just have to hope and pray that it didn't all go to hell, that I didn't jinx it by speaking about them.

"I dunno mum, they're great. Real fun." I started to ramble, wanting desperately to change the subject. One night out didn't warrant enough information to keep my mum satisfied. I didn't even really know if I was in the position to call them friends--it was only a few drinks, after all.

"Okay, darling." Mum paused, probably sensing the uncertainty in my voice. "Do you think you might come and visit soon?" She asked this every time we spoke, and it always brought our chats to a rapid close.

"I don't know mum, it's just...awkward. And I'm so busy with work..." I trailed off, unable to even finish my pathetic excuse.

"Well, why don't I come and see you?" She jumped in, for the first time suggesting that she should come here. Oh God, how was I going to get out of this? The thought of mum seeing the pathetic life that I was leading would send her panic into overdrive. She'd never, ever leave. It would be a nightmare.

"Um, no I don't..." My brain shut off, offering me no good answers this time.

"Okay, sure." She interrupted quickly, sounding sad. Fortunately, she gave the subject up instantly, seemingly knowing that she'd pushed me too far. I didn't think she wanted to pile any pressure on me. I sensed that she understood why I was avoiding everyone in the way that I was.

At least, I hoped she did...

I felt bad about our conversation, long after we'd hung up the phone.

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# SEVEN

I sat in a coffee shop with Kimberly and Amy, flicking my eyes between them both nervously. They were both happily sitting, comfortably sipping their drinks, in turn, neither of them finding anything odd about this situation. To me, it was completely and utterly bizarre. I'd never done this, even before. Sitting here, drinking hot drinks with friends--it was just mad. It wasn't the sort of things school kids did, and then I was too sick to even consider it.

I had far too much adrenaline coursing through my body--I almost couldn't control it! I was desperately trying to keep myself under control, but I was really struggling to appear normal. "So, do you think you're going to get it?" Kimberly spoke excitedly.

Amy had just revealed to us that she'd been working really hard in secret, going to night school in between shifts and studying her ass off, to finally achieve her dream. Apparently, she'd wanted to be a hairdresser forever, but she hadn't enjoyed school, so she didn't want to go on to do further education immediately afterward. That was why she took the job in the diner and stuck at it for...well, way too long. And now, it was happening for her, for real. Now she was actually close to getting exactly what she wanted.

I felt a little lost at her big revelation. I didn't know how to take it. I didn't want to be stuck at the diner, all by myself. Now that I had Amy, I didn't want to lose her. Of course, I wanted her to get the life that she deserved, the one that she'd worked for. I just didn't want to be left behind.

I felt bad at my previous assumption that she was just a loser, like me. It seemed that I was by myself with that one! Oh God, why didn't I have dreams? Why was there nothing that I wanted to achieve? That I desired to get from life? I wouldn't know where to begin, even if I did have something that I wanted out of life.

"Yeah, it's looking really good! The manager has been emailing me all of the health and safety regulations, that sort of thing." Amy grinned, brighter than I'd ever seen her smile before. "I just can't wait to get started, you know?"

"I'm so proud of you!" Kimberly pulled her in for a hug.

"Me too," I said, through gritted teeth and a fake smile. It wasn't that I didn't feel happy for Amy, of course, I did! I was just so sad for myself. I was selfishly wishing that she didn't have to go anywhere. I'd only just brought her into my life, I'd just let her in, and now she was leaving. I hugged her too, trying not to let the bitterness show.

"I'm really looking forward to it now; it's going to be amazing!" She was so, so happy. It almost brought a tear to my eye. I was so conflicted with my emotions; it was like a horrible, nauseating rollercoaster.

The other two talked for a while, and I slowly, quietly sipped my drink. I tried to organize my thoughts, keep my feelings in check. The last thing I wanted to do was show these girls my selfish side. They'd invited me here, they'd brought me into their social circle, and I could not afford to blow it. I certainly didn't want to lose either of them totally.

"So, Lara." Suddenly the conversation swung around to me. I didn't quite know how that happened, I really should have been listening. "Tell us a bit more about yourself, I still don't really know anything about you."

Kimberly smiled, inviting me in, wanting me desperately to be her friend. I froze. I wanted that too, I wanted to be their friend so damn badly. And for real--not just to tell my mum--but it didn't feel as simple as that. Maybe I should just open up and tell them, maybe it was time. Maybe it was time to unburden myself, just a little. It might help them understand me better and take our friendship to another level. Maybe, for the first time in a long time, I wanted that. I needed that.

I opened my mouth, and the words just started to spill out. "Um, well I moved here from Newmount, a small town a few miles from here--well a little more than a few miles, actually. I wanted to move to the city after I had a bit of...a rough time." I chose my words carefully; I spoke in a considered manner. I was afraid, desperate to find the right way to make this come out in the best way possible.

The girls exchanged a look. Obviously, they'd been discussing me and they knew that something was up.

Kimberly rested her hands over mine, looking kindly at me. "Trust me; we've been through shitty times too!" I could tell by her words that she thought that it was all about a bad relationship, a horrible ex, something along those lines. I could just see it in her eyes. I also thought I might have accidentally given them that impression when we were drunk.

Oh God, they really have no idea.

"Um, no it's...it's a bit weird." I stuttered, feeling myself growing cold and pale. I didn't plan on saying any of this now, I'd rather it come out when I'd had time to rehearse it in front of the mirror, to choose my words more exactly. But I might not get another chance.

"It's okay." They both instinctively moved in closer to me. "You can tell us anything, we're your friends now."

"Um, okay. Well, I was diagnosed with a rare terminal cancer. They said I wouldn't live longer than six months." I blurted it out quickly, noticing Kimberly throw her hand over her mouth. "But, I survived. I mean, I still have to get checked up every now and then, I'm not totally out of the woods...They said it was a 'miracle recovery'." I let out a strangled laugh as I realized how much a mess I was making of this--I knew for a fact that I wasn't getting many of the details out at all, and that I was just rushing through it, but I couldn't stop myself. "So, life went a bit weird and I decided to get away, to come here, to start again." I knew that I'd told that in the worst possible way, but I just wanted to get this conversation done as quickly as possible. I hated even mentioning it again.

I finally looked up to see Amy nodding intently, finally seeing why I'd been so difficult to be around. I was glad that I could make her see that I wasn't just odd and bitchy--that there was much more to me than that. It made it feel a little more worth it.

"We're here for you now," Kimberly said, decidedly. "We'll help you, won't we Amez?" Amy nodded again. This time, I could tell that she didn't know what to say. I recognized that look extremely well, I saw it a lot when I was diagnosed. I smiled back, feeling strained. I knew I shouldn't have said anything. This had changed everything. These girls would look at me differently now, I just knew it.

How could they not, when everyone else did?

"In fact, one of my friends is having a house party Friday night, do you want to come? It's gunna be loads of fun!" Kimberly's tone was overly enthusiastic, but I did appreciate the offer. "You're coming, right Amy?"

"I can't, I need to get ready for my job..." She trailed off, looking awkward. A horrible realization consumed me. I'd lost her; she no longer wanted to be my friend. She didn't know it herself yet, but she felt too uncomfortable to be around me. She wouldn't make the decision to actively avoid me, but it would happen, slowly, over time. It always did.

I wanted to cry, but I wouldn't in public. I'd wait until I was safely locked indoors before I allowed the tears to fall. I should be used to this by now, but somehow this wound felt completely fresh and new.

"Well Nick invited me, so I kind of have to go. I think this might be the one shot I have with him. He actually went out of his way to ask me out and I don't know if I'll get another chance. I need to do this. Please come, Lara? Say you'll still come with me? It will be fun, honest." She pleaded with me, fluttering her eyelashes as a joke, and this shook me out of my negative mood a little. She still wanted to be around me, even if no one else did. I couldn't help how Amy felt-- any more than she could--but what I could do, for the first time in a very long time--was focus on the positive. The Lara I'd become would have only seen the bad side of this, but I was doing my best not to be that person anymore. I wouldn't see the friend lost, I'd see the one I'd gained.

Anyway, maybe it really would be fun. Getting out, having a laugh--that was exactly what I needed. Sitting at home, alone, resisting the temptation to cry was not a better option.

"Of course, I'll come." I grinned, feeling a heavy weight lifting from my shoulders. This was going to be fine, I was going to go out with Kimberly and have a really good time--just like last time. I remembered how good the last night out had made me feel, and I looked forward to having that experience again.

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# EIGHT

The music was loud; it was thumping so hard that my eardrums hurt. Why did I agree to this? Why had I let Kimberly talk me into this nightmare? I'd been expecting this night to be a little more like the last one, but I was so, so wrong. The words 'house party' and 'DJ' should have been enough to put me off, but for some reason, it didn't. I guess I was so glad that she still wanted to be my friend after the heavy revelation, that I probably would have agreed to just about anything she asked me to do.

I looked across at her, smiling discretely to myself. She really did seem to consider herself my friend despite everything--even when Amy went weird, she didn't. My first proper friend since I'd been living in this weird borrowed time. It felt good to be able to say that to myself. It was certainly a step in the right direction at any rate!

She was making googly eyes at Nick, looking at him with such an intense adoration that it made me feel a little off-balance at the sight. I guess I'd just never felt that way about anyone, and I'd certainly never had anyone adore me in that way, so it was weirdly unnerving to see. It made me feel things that I hadn't before; it was making me wish for something similar, something so out of reach that it was impossible.

But despite all of that, I was very happy for Kimberly to have someone. She certainly deserved to be happy. I knew she thought this was her one and only shot with Nick, but from the way he was looking back at her, it seemed like he would follow her to the ends of the Earth. I wasn't sure why she was seemingly so blind to the fact that his feelings clearly matched hers. It was insane! Even I could pick it up, and I wasn't exactly experienced in being lusted after. I intended to pull her to one side to tell her at some point, but not yet. I didn't want to pull her away from the lovely moment she was having.

"I'm gunna get a drink," I yelled over the music, wanting to give them a few moments privacy. It wasn't like they were making me feel like a spare part or anything. They were including me in all their conversations; I just didn't want to get in the way of things progressing. I felt that they need a little time without me, and to be honest I needed a moment away from their 'love bubble' too.

I pushed my way through the crowds of swaying, sweaty bodies, trying not to let the panic consume me. I didn't like the sensation of being surrounded by some many people, who were so much taller than me. I felt claustrophobic and trapped, but the last thing I wanted to do was run, after making such huge steps recently. Even when the negative thoughts kept popping up in my brain, I was determinedly swatting them away. I couldn't let anxiety be the thing to push me back into my miserable rut, I wouldn't allow it, so I kept my eyes fixed firmly on the reddish carpet beneath my feet, examining it very closely as I moved. I was sure it was usually very plush, but right now--under the trampled feet and spilled drinks--it was kinda gross.

This party was so ridiculously loud that it probably should have been illegal. I didn't actually know whose house this was--I hadn't thought to ask Kimberly--but it must've been someone with some pretty serious money. Someone who wasn't even slightly concerned about the clean-up in the morning! The house was a massive, gorgeous place which just screamed 'riches'. I could only assume that all the nearby neighbors had been invited, which was why no one had complained.

After what felt like forever, I finally reached the kitchen. Luckily, it was a little quieter than the rest of the house, which gave me a much-needed minute to breathe. I glanced around at all the half-drunk bottles of God-knows-what, sucking in a deep breath, wondering what to go for. As someone who had never dabbled in drinking spirits before, I wasn't sure what I would like, and unfortunately, I couldn't seem to spot any wine, which I was a little more accustomed to--if only slight. I couldn't even remember what it was that Kimberly normally drank, so I decided to just grab three plastic cups and pick the least offensive looking bottle at random.

"Strong choice!" A deep, bemused voice said into my ear, causing me to jump and totally embarrass myself. I span around quickly; to find a guy I'd never seen before, smiling at me brightly. I broke eye contact almost instantly, hoping that he wouldn't spot my face going red, even though I knew it was fruitless. I didn't even blush cutely, my face always flamed ensuring that everyone in a mile radius could see it.

"I...I know." I stammered, desperately not wanting to seem like an idiot. "I'm only going to have a little bit..."

"Then, you might want to mix it with this." He laughed, handing me the lemonade. My lack of knowledge about alcohol must have been humiliatingly obvious, making my self-doubt even worse. I tried to laugh it off, but I didn't know how convincing my amusement came across. I couldn't bring myself to look at him, to see if he was buying it.

As I added the lemonade to the drinks, I was acutely aware of the stranger and his presence behind me. He was making me feel nervous, but also warm at the same time. It was a weird, unnerving reaction that my body was having that I couldn't seem to control and I didn't know what to do about it. I muttered a quick 'thanks', whilst turning to leave. My intention was to run out as quickly as possible, preventing any more interaction with him, but I couldn't stop my eyes from lifting from the ground, and meeting his, just for a split second.

As we connected, I found myself staring for much longer than I intended to. I drank in his full appearance unabashedly as he did the same to me. My mind was going crazy with anxiety, begging me to look away, but my body was only concerned with him, and the fact that he was making me feel in a way that I never had before--and a way that I really didn't want to stop feeling. He had dark, shaggy hair which hung past his eyebrows, giving me the almost uncontrollable urge to push it to one side.

Beneath his glasses I could see dark, brooding eyes which seem to be full of mystery and laughter, and he was tall...much taller than me--not that that was difficult--and he was kind of muscular too, but not too much so. He had his hands shoved into his jeans pockets and I scanned my eyes over his t-shirt, which was of some band I didn't recognize. He had a real geeky rock star look about him, and something about that was making my legs feel like jelly. I didn't even realize that this was the sort of guy I would feel any kind of attraction to, yet here I was almost falling apart at the mere sight of him.

He smiled brightly at me, and for a second, I was completely blindsided by him. My heart started hammering like crazy and butterflies tickled my tummy. I didn't recognize this feeling, not at all, so I was actually glad when the connection broke and my body started to return to normal. Having my body go all crazy like that was bizarre. It may have felt nice at the time, but it wasn't something I was ready to go through again. Not until I had deciphered every second of that brief interaction.

As I pushed my way back through the crowds, I was no longer focused on anything in particular because I felt distracted. I couldn't stop thinking about him and the way that he made me feel. It was as if my entire world has shrunk down to that moment, and nothing else really mattered. But I

wasn't entirely sure how much of it was real, and what was a construct of this rollercoaster of a night.

I reached the seats where we were all sitting before, and to my utter disappointment a new crowd had taken over them. I didn't recognize a single person. I span around frantically trying to find Kimberly, all thoughts of the chance encounter with the gorgeous guy spinning from my mind. All I could see were strangers, people I didn't recognize, everywhere. I knew Kimberly wouldn't have left me on purpose, she was aware that I was nervous about coming tonight, which meant something must have happened. Maybe something bad. This just wasn't right; there was no logical explanation which sent my overactive doomsday imagination into overdrive. My heart started racing--but this time for a different reason--my chest started to constrict as I took in deep breaths, as I slowly became convinced that I that my world was about to collapse around me.

Must. Not. Panic.

She probably went looking for me, yeah that must be it! I was gone a while, so she took Nick to find me. However, swept up in Nick she was, she just wouldn't leave me like this--in a place where I knew no one. I decided that the best course of action was to go and find her first, so neither of us worried...

I moved once more, no longer caring about being polite. I found myself using force to shove people out of the way as my desperation levels increased. My panic was making me act a little crazy, but in the heat of the moment, I really didn't care how I was coming across to others. The drinks in my hand spilled down the top that I had so lovingly picked out earlier on today, but I barely even noticed. The cold liquid caused the material to stick to my skin, probably completely ruining my clothing, but I didn't even pay any attention to that.

I just needed to find my friend.

Stress started to consume me as angry tears pricked my eyes. I didn't want to be here, with all these people. I wanted to be at home staring at the crack in my bedroom ceiling. That was familiar; I knew that, this was right out of my comfort zone, and I couldn't do it by myself. Without Kimberly, I became the sham of a person that I always knew I was.

My mind started to whizz at a hundred miles an hour, thousands of conflicting thoughts running through my brain. I needed to go home; I had to get out of here before things took a turn for the worse. My breaths started to become ragged, coming in thick and fast, until I felt like I could barely get any air to my lungs at all. My heartbeat started to hurt, my chest becoming too tight. I felt my legs start to buckle from beneath me and I could no longer control myself.

Eventually, I fell.

I was falling and there was nothing I could do to. I waited for the cold hard ground to greet me, but instead, warm skin wrapped itself around my body. Instead of freaking out like I should have done, I

collapsed into the embrace, allowing my whole-body weight to gratefully lean into my savior.

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# NINE

It wasn't until I was sat on a sturdy seat, supping cool water, that my mind started to calm itself down, allowing me to focus on the scene in front of me. It was then I realized, with pure shock in my heart, who my savior was--the stranger. Of course, it was. The guy from the kitchen, the one who started off the crazy rollercoaster of emotions that resulted in me humiliating myself in one of the worst possible ways. And he just had to be there to witness it. Perfect. Could this get any worse?

He wasn't smiling at me as he stared into my eyes this time. He was examining me carefully with an intent look of concern on his face that I didn't like one bit. I tried to smile reassuringly, to try and prevent this moment from becoming all the more embarrassing than it already was, but it seemed to make no difference. His expression didn't change, which saddened me somewhat. I much preferred the happiness in his eyes.

My ears caught up to the fact that his mouth was moving far too late. I'd been so busy staring at him, that I didn't actually notice him talking--again, just another moment to add to the increasing number of slip-ups tonight! The buzz surrounding me started to fade and I strained to make out words, desperately hoping that I may be able to rectify this yet...

"Are you okay?" I finally caught and I nodded emphatically, glad to be given the chance to appear normal--well, sort of! I was pretty sure that the normal ship had sailed some time ago. "Drinks were strong...I told you." He laughed, relief passing over his face.

I went to correct him, I wanted to tell him that I didn't even sip the drink, but I suddenly realized that there was no other explanation I could give to lessen the humiliation--especially not the truth. I passed out because I lost my friend...how would that make me sound? No, that was just shameful! It would probably be better to let him assume that I was a lightweight.

His fingers softly grazed my cheek, sending electrical shocks through my face. These tremors went on to rock through my entire body, causing me to shiver lightly with a bizarre pleasure that didn't quite make sense. As his hand dropped down by his side, mine immediately took its place--as if I couldn't bear to let the sensation go just yet. He kept talking and I kept nodding, but nothing was sinking in. All I cared about was the fact that he had been touching me, and that I wished he still was.

Eventually, he must have realized that my mind was off on some other world entirely because he grabbed my hand to lead me away, and I followed behind willingly. I was happy to go wherever he wanted--especially since he seemed to be taking me away from that God-awful party. I never intended to go to anything like that again--not even for Kimberly's sake. It was just too awful for words, not my idea of a good time at all. We walked out of the door, into some very welcome fresh air. Breathing in something other than booze and cigarettes gave me enough head space to finally be able to think a little clearer.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked again, and I turned to face him while I nodded. I wanted him to see that I finally really was alright now, and I felt like showing him my much-calmer expression was the only way to do that. "Good." He sighed deeply. "I was worried about you for a moment."

He was worried about me? What the hell did that mean? It had to mean something, right?

I laughed loudly--a little too loudly, really, because it caused him to look at me a little oddly. Again, I felt the overly familiar blush fill my cheeks and I was forced to look away. It wasn't enough that I was constantly making an ass of myself; it had to be highlighted to the world too? If there was one person that I wanted to think highly of me, it was the sexy stranger from the kitchen--even if I had only known him for a few moments. He just had something about him that made me desperately want to impress him--a desire that was currently going nowhere. I wished I could be one of those cool, easygoing people, who never seem to suffer the red-face curse, but I wasn't. I didn't know how much of that was me, and how much of it had been determined by the fact that I was ill during the time that I should have been getting to know myself. The time where I should have been growing up and becoming the person I was always supposed to be, I had no time for any other worries outside of the hospital.

"I'm Charlie." He said, holding out his hand and grinning at me. I took it in mine but didn't move, so we weren't actually shaking, just sort of holding hands. His warm skin caressed mine lightly, causing me to gulp down the panic that instantly filled me. He was almost too close, but I never wanted him to let go wither.

"Lara." I almost whispered as a reply.

I watched him bite his lip as he thought of what to say next, and my other hand reached up to play with the ends of my hair. I was nervous...but it was much more than that. I was extremely anxious because, for the first time in a very long time, I actually needed this guy to like me. I wanted to keep talking to him. I was really enjoying his company--even if I was acting a bit of a fool around him! I normally couldn't wait to escape the presence of people I didn't know very well, so this new longing was very unnerving.

"Shall we get going?" He finally asked, waving his hand dismissively towards the house that we'd just gotten away from. "That party seemed to be getting a bit much anyway. Soon it'll be out of hand. I imagine someone will call the cops eventually." I noticed him tapping his hand against his leg, almost as if he was feeling the tension as much as I was.

I nodded, unable to believe my luck. I didn't know if I was reading too much into it, but it seemed like Charlie might actually like me. That may not make any sense--after all, I couldn't think what he would see in me--but the evidence suggested as much. He seemed to want to spend time with me, to walk me home, and he was acting a little uneasy around me--almost as if he wanted me to like him too. My heart pounded painfully against my chest at the prospect of someone this gorgeous actually having an interest in me, and it took all that I had not to allow my overactive imagination to start predicting the worst when he found out the truth about me. Chances were, it would never get that far anyway, so I really didn't need to be worrying about it.

I fired off a quick text to Kimberly, telling her that

I was heading home, hoping that she would understand my quick departure. I did feel a little guilty about leaving, but I couldn't imagine that I would be able to find her now, and at least I was safe in the knowledge that she wasn't by herself, and that Nick would look after her. They would probably be grateful for more time alone anyway.

"So, where do you live?" Charlie asked, slipping his hand into mine. I grasped it gratefully, glad for the connection and pointed him in the right direction. As we moved, it was like I was walking on air, I felt drunk, even though I didn't really drink anything. It was a magical sensation that I wanted to hold on to forever. "Okay, let's get going. I'll get you home."

Much as the odds were stacked against me being able to think of anything to say, the conversation was actually flowing naturally between us. Charlie had this really upbeat aura about him that I was drawn to in many ways. He just seemed so laid back, as if nothing would ever bother him. Almost the polar opposite of me, in fact. I couldn't believe how attracted to this quality I was. It made him even more attractive in my eyes. In fact, the more he spoke, and the more I got to know about him, the more convinced I became that he was the best guy I'd ever had the pleasure of spending any time with.

As we went, I could feel his thumb occasionally rubbing my hand, sending shoots of pleasure through my whole body. My heart was pounding, my palms were tingling--every single one of my nerves was on fire, it was crazy and I loved every second of it. He was making me feel more alive than I had in a very long time, and I wanted to grasp onto that feeling, to keep it with me forever. If I always felt like this, then the future would be easy for me!

"So, have you always lived in the city?" Charlie asked, innocently enough. Of course, he had no idea how loaded that question was, and what it may lead to.

"I...erm, no," I replied, quietly, desperately wondering how quickly I could deflect the conversation back onto him. "No, I moved here about a year and a half ago."

This was it; this was where he asked me all of the awkward questions that I wouldn't be able to answer. After Amy's reaction, I was definitely not ready to dredge it all up again. Especially not with someone who was virtually a stranger--someone I actually wanted to like me.

"Yeah? You like it here?" Thankfully, he focused on the here and now rather than digging backward.

"I--" I paused for a second. Up until a few days ago, the answer would have been a resounding 'no'. Sure, I probably would have lied and shrugged, or said something along the lines of 'it's okay, I guess'. Now, I wasn't entirely sure what my answer was. It was certainly further along the positive lines though. "Yeah, yeah. It's...different. Great though!" I smiled inanely, opting for the simple answer. He didn't need me to delve deep into my psyche right now; it was very likely that he was just being polite.

Luckily, he breezed right past this, and onto the next subject, allowing me to relax around him once more...

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# TEN

As we reached my door, I started to recognize a new need building up inside me, more powerfully than ever before. A lust like I'd never experienced. All the signs had been there since I very first connected with Charlie; I just hadn't paid any attention to them. The tingles, the butterflies, the heat between my legs. I wanted this guy. It might not have made any sense, it might not have even been the smart thing to do, but it was there all the same.

I gulped down my fear at this realization--what the hell was I supposed to do about an uncontrollable desire for this guy that I didn't even know? I knew what I wanted to do, but that really didn't seem like the wise choice. I'd been making some bold steps recently, one's way outside my comfort zone, ones that were leading me towards finding out who I was, and I wasn't sure if this would be another one, or ten steps backward instead.

Charlie must have noticed my silence as we stopped outside my home because he suddenly stopped talking too. He stood in front of me, gazing deeply into my eyes, with an unreadable expression on his face. I felt an intense blush fill my cheeks, and a desire to look away before it got too embarrassing, but I couldn't. Even if I was utterly desperate to tear myself away from him, I had no chance in hell. I felt like as soon as I did, as soon as I broke the moment, the magic would be over and I wasn't quite ready for it to end just yet. I'd just had the best--and admittedly worst--night of my entire life, and the thought of it finishing was overwhelming.

I kept thinking that I should say something, but the words never came. My brain had seemingly switched off, but my body was still on fire--it was on top form, swirling with all kinds of insane sensations and emotions. Charlie was sending pricks of desire tingling all over me, and I felt like these pricks were whispering naughty things into my ear, encouraging me to do what I knew I wanted to, but that I also knew was probably wrong.

I felt myself being urged decidedly closer, and soon I couldn't ignore what my body wanted anymore. It seemed like Charlie was as hungry for me as I was him, because as soon I shuffled slightly, and leaned in towards him, his lips met mine in a collision that lit my entire body into flames. Any passion that I'd been experiencing increased tenfold as he wrapped me up into his arms, moving his lips against mine, claiming me as his own. All the nerves, the terrified thoughts, simply vanished as he pressed his body up against mine, allowing me to get a better feel of his body. I almost lost myself totally right there and then.

I had no idea if I was supposed to be kissing someone so wildly that I'd just met, but surrounded by this haze of lust, I really didn't care. I was barely thinking straight, never mind worrying--which was a first for me! I'd spent so long locked inside my own world of terror, that to finally free myself of that felt amazing.

As we kissed, and his tongue slipped inside my mouth, I tried to take stock, to think about the right thing to do, just for a second. I just needed to think straight for a moment, I didn't want this to be something I ended up regretting. I wasn't the sort of girl to have sex with someone I barely knew...was I? Of course, I didn't know enough about myself to really answer that question. All I knew for sure, was this was something I wanted a whole lot. However, I also wanted Charlie to like me, and this didn't quite feel like the way to achieve that.

Then again, who was I to judge what Charlie would like? I was only basing my judgments on what I'd heard from others about the way to land a guy, and it wasn't like he was playing hard to get either. In fact, he was encouraging me to push further, to take this to another level.

Then his fingers slipped up the inside of my thigh and any thoughts about what I should do flew right out the window.

We burst through the door to my pokey flat, still furiously kissing. My handbag dropped from my shoulder and hit the ground with a thud, as we collapsed on my sofa, limbs wrapped around each other as if we couldn't bear to be separated--even for a second. I allowed my clothes to fall from my body, barely opening my eyes as they did. I didn't want to properly see my surrounding, my familiar house. I was afraid that if I did, reality would hit and although I was sure that was probably the best thing for me, I was enjoying the moment too much for it to end in that way.

Much as I was afraid of what was to come, I didn't want this time to be ruined either.

"Are you...?" Charlie panted, breathlessly and I instantly nodded, pulling him back to me. I didn't want him to ask if I was okay, or if this was what I

wanted. I didn't want to take the time to really think about this. I just wanted to act on impulse. I didn't want to allow myself the chance to talk myself out of something that was currently making me feel amazing. I already knew that I was acting insane; I didn't need to be reminded of that.

This was the first-time in...probably forever, that I'd allowed my body to do the thinking for me, and the decisions it was making were wonderful. I wasn't even considering the consequences of what was happening, in this moment I didn't even care.

His chest was warm against my naked skin, and it made me feel all warm and fuzzy. An involuntary moan escaped my lips as his kisses started to trace down my throat and his fingers ran across the bottom of my back. Everything he was doing felt perfect--it was almost as if he did this sort of thing all the time.

All the time.

That thought should have repulsed me, or at least put me off a little--especially as I was so sexually inexperienced myself, but for some reason, it turned me on even more and the passion inside overtook everything else.

He pulled back quickly, tugging a condom from his pocket, looking a little awkward as he did.

While he fumbled, I kept my eyes solely on his chest, on his abs, all over his body. I just wanted to lose myself in him, in everything he had to offer me. I hadn't ever been in this position before, and I needed to savor every single second of it.

I hated this essential moment for forcing us to take a breather, but as my head cleared I realized that I still wanted him badly. I thought that taking stock would put me off, that it would freak me out, but it seemed that I was wrong. My desire for Charlie hadn't dulled even slightly.

This was the right move for me, I just knew it.

And then I felt him slip inside me and I couldn't help but gasp wildly. I couldn't believe that I was giving my virginity away so readily, but something about this moment just felt right. I knew it was all happening quickly, but if I'd let him go slow, I would have stopped him a million times over. This was something that I should have done in a hurry before I died anyway. It did always haunt me a little that I was prepared to die, having never experienced sex...

Now it was too late. He was inside of me and it felt too damn good to stop.

"Oh God." I panted as I felt an odd warm pressure build inside me.

Is that normal? I wanted to ask, but I didn't want to speak and ruin the moment. I also didn't want to put him off by explaining that this was my first time. I didn't think that any guy would ever want to be with a virgin. I couldn't picture anything more embarrassing than having to explain why I'd managed to get to such a grand old age without having sex. There was no way that conversation could go well.

I felt even more connected to Charlie as our bodies moved in unison. I might have only met him a short time ago, but I already felt closer to him than did anyone else--even the people I'd known my entire life. There was just something about this connection that was more intense than anything I'd ever been through before. I knew that my emotions were getting the better of me and that feelings were growing, but that didn't diminish my enjoyment. In fact, if anything it made everything feel a million times better.

I liked Charlie, a whole lot.

The pressure built up inside of me until I almost couldn't take it anymore until I almost told him to stop. Then it crashed in waves of pleasure over me, sending me flying on cloud nine. I felt my nails dig into his back, I heard myself scream, but I didn't even care. This was too good for me to even feel self-conscious.

As the bliss began to subside, and Charlie's breathing began to slow down too, I found myself nervously laughing at the situation. I wasn't feeling awkward or even particularly self-conscious; I just didn't quite know what to do with myself. I'd never been in this position before, and I had no idea how I was supposed to behave.

"Shall we go to bed?" Charlie asked, taking control of the situation, for which I was extremely grateful. I was also very glad that he wasn't racing out the door. I wanted him to stay, to cuddle into me desperately, so I nodded and took his hand lightly in mine, leading him down the hallway to my bedroom--a room that no one else had ever been in before. It was usually just me and that damn crack in my ceiling, but I was happy for Charlie to be the first one in there.

I didn't even bother to put any clothes on, I allowed him to simply see me as I was as we walked. I wasn't even thinking about the humiliation of my shitty home, I was just glad to have him there.

As we climbed beneath the sheets, and he wrapped his arms around me, I lay my head on his chest listening to his heartbeat. I decided to stay awake, to listen to the soothing sound, and to drink up the endless warmth until I found myself alone in this bed once more, but unfortunately, exhaustion got its grip on me and I soon found myself succumbing to the darkness.

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# ELEVEN

I slept sounder than I expected to, considering there was a stranger in my bed. In fact, I slept so deeply that I didn't wake up until the sunlight started to shine through my window. That didn't usually happen because of my blackout curtains, but I was so consumed by Charlie last night that I didn't even consider closing them, so the brightness of my room was unnerving for the first few moments.

Before my brain could switch on and begin to panic, I turned my very naked body towards the man lying next to me and drank in his appearance. I just wanted a second to really see him before this all got a little too real--which I was certain that it was going to. Charlie.

I still couldn't believe that even happened, I couldn't believe that I'd had sex. If he hadn't stayed the night, if he had scurried home right away afterward, I would have been tempted to believe that I imagined the entire thing. Me--Lara Rogers--the person who was too shut off to even speak to anyone not that long ago had slept with a very gorgeous guy. And more than that, it was actually amazing. It hadn't been as awful as I'd imagined it would be when I was younger, I'd really enjoyed it. Maybe even enough to do it again...

Although the prospect of him seeing so much of me, of being so vulnerable in the cold light of day did fill me with a cold sensation of dread. Last night it had been spontaneous, an exciting spur-of-the-moment thing. Planning a repeat was a little too much for me.

I listened to him lightly snoring, clearly comfortable in the bed of someone he didn't know very well. Again, the thought went through me that he must have been quite experienced at the one-night stand to be as calm as he was.

Yep, there it was.

The repulsion that I should have felt last night had finally arrived. It hit me hard that I'd just willingly given my virginity to someone I didn't know at all, someone that probably slept with anyone and everyone, and that I was just another conquest too. All because he'd been kind to me. That was so unlike anything I'd ever done before, and I was beginning to regret it. What had felt like a little bit of fun, started to become an intense moment of idiocy in my mind.

What sort of girl got naked with someone she'd only just learned the name of? What did that say about me? Was that really the sort of person that I wanted to be?

I slid carefully out of the bed and raced into the bathroom, trying desperately to tiptoe. I didn't want the first thing him to wake up to, to be my naked, flawed body. In the heat of passion, with the dark covering us both, I didn't mind. I didn't even think about it. Now, it was all that I could focus on. Plus, with my mind such a mess, there was no way I'd be able to form a decent conversation with him. Facing him now was going to be embarrassing enough, without me being a stuttering fool to add to that.

I stared at my tired, haggard reflection in disgust. My hair was all shaggy, tousled and messy--but actually, it didn't look as bad as it felt--and the rest of me just looked worn out. And a little stressed. I scrubbed my teeth ferociously, washing my face at the same time, trying to make myself look as presentable as possible. At least if I looked like a human being, I would be one step closer to seeming normal. That left me with the awful task of trying to find something to wear. I couldn't go back in my bedroom naked; there was no way that I would be able to get away with that twice, I could just guarantee that I'd get caught. But in the bathroom, there were only my pre-worn pajamas from the night before last. Not a sexy look, but then again, it wasn't like I had a lot of choices.

I sighed deeply, shoving them on, spraying myself with perfume as I did. I hated that I was so disorganized, that I didn't have a collection of clothes waiting for me in here, but then again, I hadn't exactly been expecting to need them.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Now I had to go back in there.

I sucked in a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself down before I went back out there. I just had no idea what was to be expected of me next. What was the protocol for this sort of situation? Should I hide away until he leaves? Or will he be expecting more of a...sexy welcome? That sent a shiver down my spine--there was no way I felt ready for that.

Even less so since I'd locked myself away in the bathroom, tying myself up in knots of worry.

Would it be more normal to make some coffee and offer that to him? I wasn't sure, and that was causing me all kinds of anxiety. I wished desperately that I had my phone with me so I could look up 'how to act after a one-night stand' online to give me a better idea of what should come next. After all, much as I liked the guy, and much as I'd felt a connection when we'd been intimate, if I was truly honest with myself then this was probably all that this was.

It made me feel a little sad at the prospect of not only losing my virginity in such a seedy manner but also the fact that it was unlikely I'd ever see Charlie again. But I also didn't want to have my hopes high, expecting something to come of us, to then suffer the crushing sadness when it didn't. I wasn't sure I'd be able to cope with that.

"Lara?" A croaky voice broke out, shaking me out of my negative thought spiral before it could get too deep. "Where are you?"

"Um, in the bathroom, one second." Heart thumping, mouth dry, palms sweating...oh God, I was not ready for this. But I was going to have to face my fears all the same. There was no way I could remain in here now, not if I didn't want Charlie to think that I was strange.

I stepped tentatively out of the bathroom, wondering where to go first. I couldn't face the bedroom, not yet. I needed a few more moments to gather myself first. "Do you want a drink?" I called out. The tremble in my voice was evident--I hoped that was only to me.

"Coffee, two sugars. Thank you!" His voice was smiling, I could tell. That was infectious and made me grin too--somehow overriding all of the fear I'd only just been experiencing. Even in the cold, sober light of day, and even from another room, Charlie's wonderful personality managed to affect me deeply. There really was something special about him, and I couldn't deny to myself that I hoped this wouldn't be it. I really did want to see him again. However, much I tried to prepare myself for the worst outcome, I knew it was going to hurt me if he was finished with me, no matter what.

As I flicked the kettle on, I thought about his face, his gorgeous body, the way he made me feel...I focused on the good, rather than the bad, and it sent my mood skyrocketing upwards. Fixating on the negative had always been a fault of mine--just another thing that I needed to shake off if I was really going to live.

Really going to live?

That was the first time any thought like that had ever entered my mind. It had always been 'I don't know how to live', or 'I shouldn't be alive', that sort of thing. Never any positive focus on moving forward.

Could I really move forward?

Oh God, that was too much, too deep for this time of the morning, especially when I had a gorgeous man waiting in my bed. I put it in a box in the back of my brain, deciding to return to it later on when I could really give it the contemplation that it deserved.

I sucked in a deep breath, choosing to be brave and go into the room, to finally face Charlie. I was going to have to do it at some point, and this seemed as good a time as any. I had the drinks in my hand, and no more excuses to keep on avoiding him.

As I walked down my hallway, I forced a determined look onto my face. If I at least looked like I had it all under control, then he might just believe it. I didn't think I'd have to hold it together for long anyway. He would likely leave soon enough, and I would have all the time to fall apart then.

His smile blew me away once more, the second that I laid eyes on it again. I only needed to look at him for all of my fears, my worries, my anxiety to melt away. Poof, it all just vanished. He just seemed to have this way of making me feel comfortable, that no one else had managed before, and that was a magical quality in my books!

"So--."

"I--."

We both started at the same time, before laughing loudly.

"I'm sorry." I tried again. "I don't really know what to do after a one-night stand." I tried to chuckle again to prove how totally fine I was with that, but I sounded a little strangled. The strain about the situation was definitely there, much as I wanted to disguise it.

His face seemed to fall at that remark, sending another round of terror coursing through my body. Was that the wrong thing to say? "Um." He coughed loudly, suddenly avoiding my eyes-- looking everywhere but my face. "Yeah, yeah, I..."

"Oh, I thought you'd be well practiced at this." I continued, unable to stop my motor mouth from sounding off. Internally, I cursed myself like crazy, but it was too late--the words were already out there, and judging by the hurt on Charlie's face, I'd spoken completely out of turn.

"I have to get off in a bit, I have a work meeting in an hour, but you'll call me?" He trailed off as if some realization has hit him. Maybe he'd said the part about keeping in touch automatically. It was unlikely that he'd want to speak to me again now!

I really was a total idiot! I'd managed to screw everything up with a few ill-advised words.

"Okay, sure. I will." I smiled blandly, wishing desperately that I could think of something better to say. Even 'sorry, I didn't mean it like that' sounded a bit redundant in my mind.

I watched Charlie take one noisy slurp of his coffee before shoving his clothes back on rapidly as if he couldn't wait to get away from me. My chest felt a little hollow and sad, but I kept my lips firmly shut. I was terrified that anything else I'd say would only make things worse, and I really didn't want to do that.

"Why do you think I'd be 'practiced at this'?" He suddenly turned to face me, anger plastered across his face.

I felt myself recoil a little, and the shyness set back in. "I...I..."

"Do you think I do this sort of thing all the time?" His tone was bitter, which made me feel stupid for even saying anything. Why had I said that out loud? That was basically calling him a slut. "I...I'm sorry." I stammer. "I didn't mean..." Tears pricked at my eyes as I realized just how badly I'd upset him. I'd been so concerned with my own sadness, that I hadn't even considered the impact of my words.

"Never mind." Charlie rubbed his hand across his face wearily, preventing me from getting my pathetic excuse out. "Never mind. Let's just..." He looked at me with sorrow in his eyes, making me feel a million times guiltier than I ever had before. "I'll leave you my number, then...we'll see."

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, trying to find the right words to bring the easiness back between us, to take things back to where they were before I'd spoken, but before any more words could leave my lips, I had a business card in my hand, a very empty apartment and there was a cold chill in the air.

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# TWELVE

I spent most of the morning wandering aimlessly around my flat in a bit of a daze. What the hell had happened? Where had I gone wrong?

Actually, that question was pointless; I'd opened my stupid mouth. That's where I'd fucked up. I'd spoken without thinking and managed to say the most hurtful, offensive thing possible. How the hell would I have felt if he'd turned around and insinuated that I was easy for sleeping with him after only just meeting? That would have killed me. So much for worrying about how I was going to be judged--I ended up being the one making assumptions.

What an idiot!

I decided that I needed to text Charlie to at least attempt to make amends; otherwise, I would lose him forever. If I just left it, he would think the worst about me and eventually move on--a prospect that cut me deep inside. Sure, it was unlikely that he would want to hear from me or that he'd even reply, but I at least had to try. I wouldn't be able to move forward if I didn't at least know either way for sure.

I would have to be brave, or I'd end up stuck in a rut of feeling as dreadful as I felt at that moment-- and I really didn't want that for myself.

'Hi Charlie, it's Lara. I'm sorry for...'

Nope, delete. That sounded stupid. I jiggled my phone between my fingers, begging my brain to think of something to say before the courage slipped away.

'Hi Charlie, thanks for...'

Urgh, no way! What was I going to say? Thanks for last night? I couldn't imagine anything worse.

I was going to have to write something soon if I didn't want to give myself enough time to talk myself out of it completely. This time, I typed quickly and I didn't even read it before I hit send, so at least it was done.

'Hi Charlie, it's Lara. I would love to see you again if that's what you want x'.

As soon as it was gone, I regretted every single word. My brain whirred with a million-and-one better things that I could have said, that I should have written, but it was too late now. I almost wanted to send another message telling Charlie to ignore the other one, but before I got around to it, my phone lit up and pinged noisily, alerting me to a reply.

'This weekend sound good? ;) x'

Clearly, he had calmed down, and he was willing to try again. My heart lifted at the prospect that I hadn't ruined everything, that he was giving me another shot. I couldn't believe it! How lucky was I? I wasn't sure if I would have been so forgiving, so it was nice that Charlie was a better person than myself.

Everything that I'd said to myself this morning to stop myself from hurting if it did only turn out to be a one-night stand just vanished. I never wanted it to be that, not really. I may have only spent a short time with Charlie, but it was enough to know that I already liked him and that I wanted to spend more time with him. I wanted to know everything there was to know about him.

And now it looked like that could actually happen.

***

After that, messages flew back and forth between myself and Charlie, each one easing the knot of worry in my heart. Things were going to be okay! Really and truly, and I was so incredibly happy about that. It made me feel better than I ever had before. All the joy I'd been experiencing up until now paled into significance as the smile grew brighter on my face with every scrap of communication.

I also heard back from Kimberly--it turned out that she was looking for me when we got separated because she suddenly panicked that I'd been gone for a while. I knew that of course, she was far too kind-hearted to abandon me like that, even for Nick. She was a little evasive about it, but from what I got things had gone really well between the pair of them. I couldn't wait to find out more when I saw her next.

Now that everything was a little more settled in my mind, two problems kept popping to the surface of my mind. With such an amazing, unexpected week behind me, it felt like these little niggles were much more significant than they would have been otherwise. Settling these would make everything good, and for the first time in a long time, that was what I really wanted.

I had the deep-seated feeling that I really should email Daphne, to clear the air a bit. She'd had the decency to tell me about her engagement, even though she really didn't have to, and it felt a little disrespectful to totally blow past that. Plus, if I did ever make the decision to go home for a visit, it wouldn't be too awkward if I bumped into her and Bradley--which of course I would. Sod's law dictated as much! On top of that, I also wanted to contact Amy, to try and make things right between us too. I didn't want to enter this friendship group and make her uncomfortable by just not talking. I was sure that this was something that we could overcome if we tried. Even if we couldn't, remaining silent wouldn't do us any favors either. We didn't need to face it head on of course, but I couldn't do nothing either.

But which to do first?

I had work in an hour and a half, so technically I could tackle them both. I did wish that Amy had worked some notice before leaving the diner, that way I could have talked to her face-to-face, but of course, I wasn't that lucky. She'd had accrued quite a few days of holiday, which allowed her to start at the hair salon right away--and I really didn't think that visiting her new place was a good idea. Especially not when she was trying to settle in. Instead, I decided to send her a nice, breezy Facebook message--one that couldn't be misconstrued in any way. I hoped that she would reply, but I wasn't too sure if she would or not.

'Hi Amy, I hope the new job is going well. Thinking of you! Lara x'

There. Simple. I'd extended a very straightforward olive branch--not that we'd fallen out or anything--but it just opened a dialogue which may or may not turn into something more. I smiled to myself, pleased that I'd taken some action. The Lara that I was only a short while ago would have been too afraid, too stuck, to even consider such a bold move. I really had taken some massive leaps in my life, and there was definitely an element of pride inside of me.

Now for the difficult job--the email.

I'd done the message to Amy, I could do this too. Even if it did strike a cold, hard terror into my heart. I re-read Daphne's words, desperately gulping down the sting in my chest, knowing that this time I was going to have to take in every word properly, to allow me to form a suitable reply.

"Hi, Lara,

It's me again. I hope you're well. I don't know why I keep emailing you, I'm not even sure if you're even reading these messages! I guess I just want to keep you in the loop. Bradley and I are engaged now. We move into our new house at the end of next week. Our wedding isn't going to be until next year - I'd love for you to come, but I do understand if you don't want to. I hope that you're well, I'd love for you to get back to me and let me know what you've been up to. I've been thinking of you.

Lots of love, your friend Daphne xxx'

Guilt crept its way up my body as I drank in each and every word. Daphne had been through some major life changes that I knew nothing about. If you'd told me that would happen when we were younger, I would never have believed it. We used to be so close...how had it gotten so bad?

Of course, I knew the answer to that--me. It was entirely my fault.

I really had neglected her since I left, and she'd done so much for me throughout my life--when I was sick, and before that too. I'd been a terrible, crappy friend and there was no excuse for that. She was the one person who was always there, no matter what.

I thought back to school when I was being teased because I didn't have the very fashionable, very expensive shoes that everyone else was wearing. Daphne called those mean girls out for what they were; making sure everyone left me alone after that. I remembered calling her first when I got the bad news about my illness--she was the only person that I wanted to discuss it with. As I sobbed, she sobbed--then we both comforted each other in the hopelessness that outstretched in front of us. I recalled our mad night out in Spain--Daphne was the only one who could instantly tell when things were becoming too difficult for me. She could just sense when the exhaustion or the nausea, or even the pain, was becoming too intense for me to really enjoy myself. Then she had this subtle way of getting everyone to do something else, giving me the necessary time to rest.

No one else might have spotted what she was doing, but I did.

Friends like that just didn't come around every day. If I focused on that, rather than what came later, I could see it all with a clearer head. It was time to accept that she wouldn't have started things up with Bradley if she didn't really love him. She wouldn't have even asked for my permission if it hadn't been massively important to her. I shouldn't let that--let some guy--come between us. That should never have happened.

I opened up the screen to reply, with a newfound need coursing through my veins. I hoped that we could at least rebuild if we couldn't get things back to how they were. I didn't think I could go through another whole day without reaching out to the girl who had always been my friend.

'Hi, Daphne,

How are you? I'm so sorry that I haven't been in touch for a while, I've just been so busy...'

Nope, delete that. There was no point in spinning that lie, she would see right through it. She knew me too well for fibs. Plus, I'd always thought that being busy was the crappiest excuse ever.

'I have been struggling through things, but I'm coming out the other side--slowly, but surely. I'm glad things are going well with you...'

I decided not to mention the wedding, or Bradley, just to keep things simple for the time being. We would have to get to that eventually, but that time didn't have to be now.

'How are your family? How is work and everything? God, it's so long since we've caught up, I bet you have loads to tell me. What can I tell you about me? Well, to be honest, there isn't that much. I work in a diner--boring as hell--and until a few days ago, that was all I did. I told you, it's been a bit crap...'

I started to feel a little lighter as I wrote my entire experience down honestly, knowing that Daphne was going to read it. It felt like a weight was lifting, little by little.

This was good, and it could only lead to positive things, I was sure of it.

It looked like I was really going to live after all...

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# THIRTEEN

"I don't know, Kim!" I cried into my phone, laughing, trying to sound far more confident than I really felt. I couldn't believe how far my life had come in just a few short weeks--if I really thought about it, it was incredible. Not so long ago, I was miserable, dejected, desperately unhappy. I had no one, sought no friendship, didn't care about anything at all. Now, I was on my way to a date with a gorgeous guy and discussing it on the phone with my friend.

A friend, a real-life friend! It was almost unbelievable.

I hadn't heard anything from Amy in a few days. I messaged her to say good luck with her new job, and she said thanks, but that was about it. I didn't mind though. If she couldn't handle all the weirdness surrounding me, that was fine. At least I'd tried. I did genuinely understand anyway; my situation was very complex and difficult to comprehend for those who had no experience in that area. I had Kimberly anyway--she'd already become like a rock. We talked all the time, and with every conversation, we grew increasingly closer. She worked in the marketing department of a very exclusive firm in the city. She had a really stressful, high-up position that she worked extremely hard for, but she still managed to find a lot of time for me. I couldn't believe that I had her. I was unbelievably lucky--and I had no intention of taking her for granted.

"You'll be fine!" She bleated, excitedly. She was genuinely happy for me, and that shone through.

"Just be yourself."

Myself. I have no idea how to do that.

I didn't say that part aloud though, I laughed loudly instead, trying to disguise just how much effort that was going to take. "Yeah, okay. I'll do my best."

I hadn't told Kimberly that I'd already slept with Charlie, not that I knew why I was keeping it to myself. I didn't exactly need it to be some kind of sordid secret, it just seemed a little inappropriate to talk about. Especially as she knew I was a virgin beforehand, and I was afraid that she'd look at me differently for giving my first time away so readily to someone I'd only just met. Even though I didn't think she would, I didn't want to be judged for that.

Maybe that was my own insecurities about my behavior shining through...

"Okay, I have to go, he's here." I hissed, quickly shutting off the phone. My heart hammered painfully against my chest and my nerves almost turned me to jelly at the prospect of what was to come--my first, real date, my first real time alone talking to Charlie. Sure, we'd been texting each other, but face-to-face was so much different, so much more daunting.

I watched him walk towards me, admiring him once more. He was wearing a red and blue checked shirt, dark denim jeans, and surprisingly smart shoes. His dark, shaggy hair was still hanging in his gorgeous eyes, which was one of those features that I really adored about him--it made him look scruffy but sexy all at once. I actually found it a little hard to look at him, he was that good looking. My tummy was actually going funny with it all. Of course, I'd already seen him naked, so I was fully aware of his sex appeal, but something about seeing him dressed up just for me made it that much more obvious.

I suddenly panicked that I wasn't dressed appropriately myself. I chose my outfit on Kimberly's suggestion during a very lengthy phone call, but now I wasn't sure that my jeans, boots and strappy top combo were right. Especially not with my 'natural' hair and minimal makeup--I felt very underdressed. Oh God, had I made a huge mistake here? Should I have been wearing a dress, or something much fancier? Would he think me scruffy for coming like this?

"Hey, Lara!" He cried out, happiness tainting his voice. The way he smiled at me sent butterflies flapping violently all around me, pushing my negative thought spiral right from my mind. Again, it had only taken a couple of seconds around him and I felt much better...lighter.

"H--hi." I stammered, very uncoolly, as a reply.

"Hungry?" He asked. "Or do you just want a drink?"

"Um...?" Was I hungry? More to the point, did I really want to eat in front of him? "Drink." I settled on quickly, figuring that was the far safer option. This was the first date I'd been on, ever, and I

didn't think that bringing food into the equation was such a good idea. Bradley never took me anywhere--not that dates are the sort of thing you do with your high school sweetheart--at least not where I came from anyway, so I had literally no experience to go on.

A drink was easy, a drink I could do.

"Okay, sure. I know a great little pub around the corner."

As we walked, we had a little small talk--

discussing what our week had entailed. It turned out that Charlie ran his own graphic design business. It hadn't been going for long, so it wasn't massive, but he was making positive strides in the right direction every single day. Another person in my life following his dreams. Again, this filled me with the self-doubting questions that had begun to plague me regularly. Why didn't I have any dreams? Why had I never had any dreams? I couldn't even remember having any before I was sick!

Luckily the conversation ran pretty smoothly, despite the crazy dance that my brain was doing. I was kind of expecting it to be a little awkward considering how our last meeting went, but it really wasn't. In fact, it was actually really nice. Yes, my heart was racing and I felt sick to my stomach, but his warm presence was putting me somewhat at ease.

We sat at a small table just inside the doors of the pub, staring right at one another. I quickly realized that his dark eyes weren't quite as mysterious as I first thought when I met him; instead, they were warm, sweet and inviting. He was just so yummy, it was very difficult to imagine what the hell he was doing sitting with me. However hard I tried, I couldn't imagine anything that would attract him to me--he was so far out of my league it was unreal. As I trailed my eyes over his body, remembering his firm stomach, his muscular arms, his soft skin, I couldn't help but blush. I hoped desperately that he couldn't read my mind, or see the dirty thoughts plastered across my face.

"So, Lara." He put down his pint and rested his hands on the table dangerously near to mine. Electricity buzzed within me, making it very hard to concentrate on his words. "You're a bit of an enigma, aren't you?"

"Erm..." Enigma? What could he mean by that?

"Tell me about yourself."

Oh God, there was that question again.

I took in a deep breath, trying to steady my mind before speaking. I needed to say something simple, something that wouldn't invite further questions. I was nowhere near ready to discuss the truth tonight--I didn't want my first date to be wrecked by the past that I was so desperately trying to move away from. "Um, I moved here about a year and a half ago from a small town not too far from here..." I kept my eyes fixed on my fingers, wanting to get this over as quickly as possible;

"Why?" He instantly interjected, looking genuinely interested in my answer.

Panic set in. What could I say? I had absolutely no plans in telling him anything right now, but how the hell was I going to get away with saying nothing? If there was something I'd learned over my short time with Charlie, it was that he didn't like to let things go.

"I...I just wanted a change. Small town girls always want to head to the big city, don't they?" I laughed nervously, as the terrible lie came spilling out of my mouth. Charlie eyed me suspiciously, clearly untrusting my ridiculous words, but luckily for me, he let it go. "Then, I landed that crappy job in the diner...then I ended up here." I giggled once more--a sound that was starting to become inane and irritating. "I know, I'm boring."

If only I were boring--this would be so much easier!

"Do you enjoy working at the diner?" He leaned back in his seat, giving me an intense look. It was obvious that he was desperate to figure me out, and I had to bat all of this away to prevent him from getting too deep.

Not now, not yet. Maybe one day.

"God no! It's bloody awful."

"So why are you still there?" He asked, causing an awkward silence.

"Shall I get the next round in?" I stood up quickly. I didn't know how to answer that question, and I wasn't convinced that a first date was the place to ask it. To me, that stuff was deep and personal, and I hadn't thought about it too much myself to even really know why. I certainly couldn't vocalize it to Charlie.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe we should have left it as a one-night stand.

I blinked back tears, telling myself to pull it together as the bartender sorted out our next drinks.

As I watched him pour the wine into the glass, I started to think about how I really needed to cut out the booze a bit. I didn't want to end up drunk on a first date, not when things were so strained already. I'd gotten myself into trouble with Charlie once because of my big mouth, and I had no idea what would come out if I was drunk.

I would make this my last one. After this one glass of wine, I'd switch to soft drinks to keep myself in control.

But then I took a single sip, and my resolve flew out the window. The wine made me feel better, more at ease with myself. I felt like I could tackle more with it swimming around in my belly.

"Are you okay?" Charlie asked, concerned as I eventually sat back down at the tiny table that now felt a little claustrophobic.

His kind words made it very difficult not to cry. I was already on an unexpected emotional rollercoaster--being nice to me would only make that worse. "Yes." I snapped quickly. "I just don't want to talk about all of this...serious crap." I knew I was taking out my own failures on him, I knew that, but I still couldn't stop. "Let's just...chill."

"Chill?" He replied, clearly bemused. "Yeah..."

The silence surrounded us once more. Guilt trickled its way down my body, as the realization of how rude I'd behaved hit. I didn't mean for this to happen, I didn't want my first date to go this way. This night was supposed to be magical, not ruined by me saying ridiculous things.

"Sorry." I murmured, feeling terribly embarrassed by myself.

"Yeah, don't worry." His reply was now stilted; the night had become incredibly awkward and it was all because of me. I didn't want things to go this way. It was just so hard for me to talk about anything. I didn't know how to open up I wasn't sure where I could even begin.

So why couldn't I just tell him that? Surely if I was just honest, we could work through this...

"So, have you lived here your whole life?" I sipped my drink, trying to look innocent as I drastically changed the subject and shifted the focus back onto him. He gave me one quick, suspicious look, before allowing me what I needed and answering my question.

It seemed like my path was decided, and honesty certainly wasn't the way I'd chosen to go.

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# FOURTEEN

Yep, it was official. I was drunk. All of my vows to behave on this date, to make a better impression than the shitty one I made last time had flown out of the window a long time ago. I was drunk and acting kinda stupid, and I was slowly getting the impression that I was pissing Charlie off.

"What's wrong?" I finally slurred in his direction, wishing I could make myself sound less like a dick. I wasn't sure how many glasses of wine I'd had by that point, but I was certain that I'd passed the stage of one-too-many a fair while back.

"I don't..." He started, before giving me a look that I couldn't quite decipher. "I don't know."

"Is it coz I've drunk too much?" I could hear the weird deeper tone to my voice, the one that suggested I wasn't quite myself. I didn't like this one bit--the last time I'd been drunk it was fun, this felt more like a chore. Yet somehow, I was too far gone and I couldn't quite find the way to stop myself. "I'm sorry; I never normally touch booze, so..." I completely lost my trail of thought, so I blinked a few times trying to get it back, probably making myself look like even more of an idiot.

"No, no." He smiled weakly at me. "You're kind of sweet when you're drunk." He touched my arm gently, sending a fission of excitement racing through my body. I shifted myself closer to him, wishing that I was in an appropriate place to press myself up against him and kiss him once more-- with all of this alcohol in my system, my desire for Charlie ran uncontrollably free. "It's just...every time I ask you something about yourself, you completely avoid the question." I rapidly pulled away, as a heat filled my cheeks as his words. He was right, of course, he was, but I didn't know how to get out of that funk. Especially not after what happened with Amy. I was so afraid of letting everything, and for him to just reject me, "Is it because you think I'm just after you for one thing?"

Oh, my God. He was still upset about my idiotic comment about him being accustomed to one-night stands. How the hell was I going to get out of that one without making myself sound even worse?

"No, no. It's not you. Not at all. It's just..." I sucked in a deep breath of air, but that just resulted in making my head spin more. "It's me." I heard myself admitting, but almost as soon as I'd started I felt my insides coil with stress, and my mouth zipped itself firmly shut once more.

"Please, tell me what it is." He pleaded. "Something is bothering you. There's something that you're holding back." He gripped my hands

tightly. "You can trust me, you know." Trust.

I wanted to trust him so damn badly, but with trust came vulnerability and I'd spent so long holding myself in that I didn't know how to do that. I hadn't even fully let Kimberly in, not really. Sure, she knew some, but I hadn't completely let go around her. I was still keeping the true Lara--whoever the hell that was--firmly hidden away from the world. "I don't..." I shook my head, pulling away from him. I felt like I was about to cry, and I didn't want him to see that. This was all happening far too quickly for my liking. This was supposed to be the fun-loving, exciting first date. Why was he insisting on trying to get into all of this heavy stuff? Why couldn't he just leave it alone? Couldn't she sense that I really didn't need any of it?

"Lara," he moved back away from me too, creating what felt like a massive distance between us. "If you're going to hold back from me like this, then there's no point in us hanging out...or whatever it is we're doing. We just can't..."

"What do you mean?" I jumped in, starting to feel really angry. This was mental; he was being completely and utterly unreasonable. "Why are you so interested in all of this stupid deep stuff? Why can't we just have fun?" My tone was bitchy and annoyed, but to be honest that was exactly how I felt.

"Dating is supposed to be about getting to know each other. That's supposed to be a part of the fun." Charlie was starting to get wound up too, and it was plastered all over his expression. For some reason, this simply resulted in irritating me even further.

"Does it have to be at your pace? Why can't we just do things slowly?" I felt my entire body seize up at that moment. I had the horrible feeling that he was going to sneer at me and tell me that I certainly hadn't been taking things slowly the last time we'd met when we'd jumped in bed together, but luckily, he didn't. I had to respect him for that.

"I don't know what to say, Lara." He began to look weary. "I really like you, a lot. But I don't see how this can work if you won't open up to me at all." He paused, staring at me for a brief second before continuing. "Do you want me to open up first? Will that help? Okay sure," I knew that he was trying to say the right thing, but his snippy tone was making this more of an argument than a heart-to-heart. "I was in love once, when I was much younger, but she was bad news." I started to feel sick, not wanting to hear the rest of the story at all. "She was older than me, much more used to relationship manipulation than I was. Her friends were awful, and she wasn't any better--but I was blinded by my feelings. I couldn't see her bad points at all. Everyone else could, and they delighted in telling me, but this just made me bury my head in the sand even more."

"Please stop," I whispered. I really didn't want to know anything about his life, not yet, not when it would result in him pressuring me to return the favor. But of course, he totally ignored me.

"Eventually, they started me on a slow descent into drink and drugs--the same path they were on--

totally screwing up my school education." I tried to picture that version of Charlie, but I couldn't see it at all. "I became nothing more than a loser, and I don't mind telling you that I'd still be that person today if I hadn't walked in on her screwing two other guys at once, two of her friends."

I gasped audibly, unable to imagine that happening in real life. "That must have been..."

"Awful, yes." He sent me a weak smile. "But the worst moment of my life also became my best. It made me get rid of the lot of them and get the motivation I needed to get my own home and start up my business. So even though I hate her for the hurt she put me through, I'm also glad. She taught me some much-needed life lessons."

"Wow," I was utterly gobsmacked. What do you say to a revelation like that?

"I don't tell people that," he said sincerely. "That's a part of my past that I don't like to reveal, but if it helps you talk to me, to let me get to know even a tiny part of you, then it's worth it."

He stared at me, waiting for me to say something, but even though I knew I should give him what he wanted--especially after that--my lips were sealed tightly shut. I knew the second I opened my mouth, I would burst into tears, and I couldn't bear that. I didn't want him to see me sobbing, not at all.

But I didn't want to lose him either...

"Okay, fine." He scraped his chair backward, and stood up, realizing that I still had no intention of speaking. "This is getting us nowhere. I guess I'll see you around Lara."

I wanted to scream and yell out as he turned his back on me and walked away, but I sabotaged myself and remained silent. There was just something inside of me that was holding me back and I couldn't shake it off, however desperate I was to do so.

I sat stunned for a few moments, trying to decide on my next move. The thought of going home by myself to stare at the crack in my bedroom ceiling was far too depressing, so I did the next best thing and headed to the bar. I no longer had any worries about my behavior because I'd just lost everything, so why not do something to make myself feel better instead?

An hour past and I found myself still sat in the same seat, nursing yet another glass of wine. I'd been in tears on and off throughout the night, and it didn't seem like drowning my sorrows was working for me at all. I felt worse than ever.

"Hey." A gruff-sounding voice broke through the mental barrier I'd created around myself.

It was wholly unwelcome, but I knew I wouldn't be able to get away with just completely ignoring him, so I forced myself to reply in a monotone voice. "Hi."

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing drinking alone?" This question caused me to shoot him an awful look. God, did that sort of thing really work on people? He seemed to take my non-answer as an invitation to sit down, and I just couldn't be bothered to argue with him. I was too mentally exhausted for any more altercations. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound sleazy then. I didn't realize you were upset."

This unexpected statement caused me to take more notice of him. As I looked up, I could clearly see that he was a lot older than me--he was likely mid-to-late thirties--but he had a kind face too. He was wearing a business suit, with a tie half untied-- probably because he had only just finished work-- and he had a splattering of stubble over his chin. His twinkly bluey-green eyes glittered as he smiled, but that didn't make me warm to him. I'd just been blown off, because of my own actions, and I wasn't ready to make small talk with someone else. He may have been cute in an older-guy kind of way, but I wasn't in the mood for anyone.

"S'okay," I muttered, hoping that would be enough to deter him for the time being. Of course, my luck had completely run out because it didn't.

"Do you want to talk about whatever's bothering you?" He asked, causing my hackles to rise once more. I'd already been through this once; there was no way I was doing it again. Why couldn't everyone just leave me be? Couldn't people tell that talking was the last thing I needed?

"No." I snapped, much harsher than I intended.

"Okay." He replied simply, sounding far too breezy for my liking. "Let's talk about something else instead. Who do you think would win in a fight, Spiderman or Batman?"

A laugh unexpectedly burst from my chest at this. He'd done exactly what I'd wanted Charlie to do. He'd completely ignored my awkwardness and changed the subject to something fun and lighthearted instead. I found myself wanting to continue this chat, to go down the path that tonight should have done.

"Well," a grin spread across my face. "I would say...Spiderman..." which of course started the most spirited debate of all time.

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# FIFTEEN

This encounter felt wholly different. For starters, I couldn't even remember the name of this guy--I wasn't totally sure that we'd even exchanged names--and for another, there was no kissing, no tenderness. It just sort of...happened.

We had a laugh at the pub, and when last call was announced, we just sort of drifted back to his place, still chuckling at our stupid, completely ridiculous conversation. None of it had been personal, it had all been pure fun, and that was exactly what I had needed at the time.

Now, I found myself lying here, looking at the sleeping back of this complete and utter stranger, wondering what the fuck I was playing at. There were so many times I could have made the smart decision to not sleep with this guy. Okay, I'd been very drunk, but not wasted enough to not know what I was doing. I did it because I thought it would make me feel better, but it didn't. Not at all.

When I hooked up with Charlie, that was on a whim too, but I'd felt something for him deep down. There had been a serious connection between the pair of us, which had sparked from very first sight. I felt nothing for that guy. Not at all. And now the fact that we'd had sex made me feel dirty, used and useless.

Always useless.

What the hell was going on with me? Why did I keep acting so out of character?

Not that I really had a character. Maybe this was me after all. Maybe I was slutty; I'd just never known it until now.

I had a text message from Kimberly sitting in my phone, but I hadn't even looked at it yet. I was too ashamed to tell her how badly the date had gone, and what I'd done afterward. I didn't want to drag her into the mess I'd created. She would be ashamed of me or try to help me, neither of which I could handle. I'd already been helped so much in my life, and it hadn't exactly gotten me anywhere. I needed to sort my own life out.

Not that I was getting very far with that either.

I'd thought that's what I was doing. Earlier tonight, I'd been convinced that I was moving forward in a positive way, but it seemed that now I was pushing everything to the brink, trying to find some version of myself that didn't exist.

I didn't exist. I hadn't existed for a very long time. I could no longer relate to the 'sick girl', and I couldn't remember the person I'd been beforehand either. I hadn't been anyone since, so really, I was no one.

Nothing.

When I'd made the solid decision to make an effort about this living thing, I'd assumed that it was going to be easy. I thought it was all going to be positive and fun, I didn't account for the challenges I would face along the way. I hadn't expected to come across anything, to be honest; I thought all the hard stuff was behind me.

How naive I was!

As the stranger slumped by my side starting snoring heavily, the tears started to fall. I'd been numb for so long that I was trying to feel something, and I took that way too far. I hadn't been able to cope with Charlie rejecting me, and I'd failed in finding a new way to feel good. I felt far worse, and I wasn't sure how to move forward from that--or if it was even possible.

As I wept, I snuck out of the stranger's bed and quickly chucked my clothes on. There was no way that I could sleep here, even if I want to--which I definitely didn't. I couldn't wake up with a nameless man, not a chance! I wanted to get as far away from this nightmare as possible. I needed to be in my own bedroom, where I could make some solid decisions about what the future held for me.

As I rushed out onto the streets, still feeling a little drunk, the cold air hit me hard. It rushed past my skin, almost scarring it as I practically ran as far away from this building as quickly as I could. I wanted to be home now. I wanted to shower. To wash this entire experience off of me. I didn't ever want to put myself in a situation like that ever again. I vowed never to be so stupid, get so out of control. I just wouldn't allow it to happen. I would learn from this, I had to.

***

The hot water poured over my head, instantly making me feel a little calmer and more in control of myself. The tears were still streaming down my face, but now they didn't seem to have so much power over me. I could put a stop to all of this. It wasn't exactly like I was out of my depth completely; I'd just made a stupid mistake. There was no need to get so panicked.

Okay, I'd had a one-night stand with someone I liked--then totally messed that up. Then I'd slept with someone I didn't know or liked, but it wasn't the end of the world. I wouldn't be the first person to make that error, and I certainly wouldn't be the last either. I needed to put it in perspective.

I scrubbed my skin, hard, wanting to wash all of the stains of the night from me. As soon as I'd had a sleep, I decided that I would contact all of my friends and concentrate on the positive aspects that I'd been working towards. There was no reason to allow this to stop all of the good things that had been happening for me.

I could carry on down the path I'd been carving.

After this pep talk, I started to feel a little better. It was fine. I would be fine at any rate. I needed to make sure of that.

Maybe I would even ring my mother...

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# SIXTEEN

"Today is a new day," I muttered as I sat up in my bed feeling bleary-eyed with the hangover. But to be honest, the positivity that I'd been feeling last night had ebbed away, and what I was left with was a cold, empty crappy sensation that had consumed my entire body.

Aren't fresh starts supposed to feel a bit more...positive?

"It's okay, just...get going," I whispered, hoping that I could at least do that much. Maybe once I got started on organizing my life and sorting out where I was going to go next, everything else would simply fall into place. Or maybe I was being naive all over again...

I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen, hoping that a cup of coffee would give me the boost I so desperately needed, but as the kettle boiled my eyes unwittingly rested on my calendar, giving me the worst news possible. Normally, I would look at the dates and only see my work shifts, but now I could see something that I'd been trying to forget, that had sunk into the depths of my mind with all that had been going on.

It was the date of my bi-annual check-up at the hospital.

The hospital was so significant in my life, and I hated it with a fiery passion. Every time I stepped through those doors, I felt like my life was hanging in the balance all over again. The city hospital was better than the one from my hometown--it felt a little less personal at least, which I liked--but no appointment made me feel good. They always reverted me right back to the person I was, to the girl who had no future, but who had a fun-filled life. I always felt inadequate compared to her, and despite all of my progressive steps forward, today felt no different.

And this time, I'd been so distracted that I hadn't even given myself a suitable time to prepare for it.

As I poured the coffee into my mug I could see my hand trembling with fear. I was already a mess, how the hell was I going to be when I actually walked into the doctor's office? At least the guy I saw here didn't know me well enough to judge me. He was very clear and concise when he discussed what was happening with me, which I welcomed, but I'd still rather avoid it at all costs if I could.

Should I just...not go?

The temptation was there--just a little bit--but I wasn't idiotic enough to follow through with it. I would just have to suck it up and get on with it...

The empty numbness that had infected my life entirely until recently, consumed me slowly as the morning passed. I kept working myself up into tight, manic knots, before unwinding and feeling absolutely nothing once more. It was a vicious cycle that I had no idea how to break. My appointment wasn't until 1.30pm, and I certainly didn't feel the need to arrive early, which left me with a long unfilled time with nothing to do. I tried to find something useful to do to make the hours pass quicker, but my brain was too distracted with what was about to come. I simply couldn't focus on anything properly.

It wasn't that I was particularly concerned about finding out that I was ill again--although that revelation would have been difficult to take, just when I'd made the decision to have a go at life--I just hated the white, clinical coldness of the hospital environment. It spelled nothing but bad news to me, and that was all I could think about. I kept seeing myself receiving more and more bad news, over and over again, like a horror film playing in my mind. My one stipulation about my death had been that it wasn't to happen within a hospital building. I knew it had been selfish of me to ask to do it at home, where my younger half-brothers lived, but it was all that I desired. Hell, I would have taken anywhere other than a hospital building! I just couldn't bear the thought of spending my last living moments in a place that I truly detested.

I had to suck down some anxiety before stepping out the door to ensure that I at least appeared normal to the rest of the world, all the time wishing that I could just take all of this in my stride. I'd met many others on my illness journey who were so together about the whole thing. They had their heads fully screwed on, just making me feel even worse about the mess that I'd made of everything. As their faces flickered through my mind, and I wondered how many of them were now gone, I wondered what they would think to see me throwing away my second chance at life. I tried to imagine what they'd say to me, but that only resulted in me feeling even worse about myself.

As I ambled slowly down towards the bus stop, I tried to ignore my racing heart and my negative thought pattern. I tried to keep it all shut down and under control, but in all honesty, I was a trembling mess. Even as I sat on the bus seat, and I tried to concentrate only on the movement of the vehicle, I felt myself falling apart. I even tried doing the calming, breathing techniques that someone had taught me somewhere along the line, but it got me nowhere.

In...out...in...out...

People were probably looking at me strangely--I may have even become the bus weirdo but I didn't care. I was too freaked out to continue considering how I appeared to the rest of the world.

Just get through this. I thought to myself. Keep breathing and everything will be okay. But the words were hollow, even in my brain. They didn't even feel connected to me, to what I was going through.

By the time I actually walked through the double doors that led me into the hospital wing I needed, I was a state. So much so, that the nurse who took my blood pressure and weighed me before I went in to see the consultant, actually felt the need to comment on it.

"Are you okay, Miss Rogers?" She asked me, a concerned look plastered across her face. "Only, you seem a little...tense." That was her polite way of telling me to reel it in, that I looked like a freak show. For someone who saw sick people over and over again every single day, this was something of a wakeup call--only it was far too late for me to really be able to do anything to help myself.

"I'm just a little nervous." I tried to play down my emotions, not wanting to cause any concern. The last thing I needed was extra attention, I just needed this done. "I just...don't like hospitals." I finished with the understatement of the year.

"You've seen Dr. Shaw before, right?" She smiled in what I assumed she thought was a reassuring gesture. "He's lovely, he'll look after you."

She didn't get it. Of course, she didn't. I nodded quickly smiled blandly at her, hoping that she wouldn't ask me anymore. Somehow it seemed like someone was looking down on me, granting my wishes because I was called into the doctor's room quicker than I'd ever been before, taking me far away from her and what felt like her endless stream of questions...

***

As soon as I left the hospital wing, I didn't head for the bus like I knew I should. Instead, I ambled out in a daze and found myself walking towards the first bar I could find, without even really planning to. It was almost like an automatic reaction, one that I couldn't control. The pub I wandered into was one of those places filled mainly with elderly alcoholic men--particularly at just before 3 pm on a weekday afternoon--but that didn't bother me. I didn't care where it was, or who would be inside, all I knew for sure was that I was craving booze after that ordeal.

It hadn't been a bad appointment exactly, there was certainly nothing physically wrong with me anymore, it was just all the personal questions that I found too much to handle. They seemed to take it upon themselves to suggest counseling for me every single damn time I went there. Somewhere along the line, someone must have made the note that I was depressed, and now that label had stuck, and there was nothing I could do to shake it off.

I tried to cover up the truth about me and act like everything was alright, but it seemed that acting certainly wasn't something I was good at.

How could the doctor's not see that talking about my problems wasn't the answer for me? That speaking them aloud would only make things worse. I'd be much better off if they just left me damn well alone to get on with things. I'd been doing fine so far.

Well, okay maybe not fine exactly, but I was working through things. I'd been surviving, existing, and I was doing my best to make it more than that. I needed to look forward, not backward, which was the reason I refused their offer every single time.

It still pissed me off that I had to defend myself when I knew what was best for me.

"Wine, please." I murmured at the stressed looking woman behind the bar. As soon as she shoved the glass in front of me, and I'd pressed a banknote into her hands, I slunk away to find a secluded seat, wanting to be by myself.

I sat at the small table by the window and drank.

As the calming liquid slid down my throat, I decided that as soon as I finished this glass, I would get on the next bus home. One drink would be enough to wash this horrible day away, then I would need to prepare myself for my next shift at the diner.

Just one drink, then back to reality...

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# SEVENTEEN

I never made it to work that night. Or the next one. In fact, I was pretty sure that I didn't have a job to go back to anymore. I had a whole bunch of missed calls and answer phone messages from Alfie, but I'd spent the days too drunk to even bother listening to them. I'd gone far past the point where I even cared anymore.

The more alcohol I consumed, the worse I felt, yet somehow, I couldn't seem to stop myself from ordering another one. Just one more. I knew that I was going to have to face my problems head-on at some point, but I wasn't there yet. In fact, I found myself the furthest away I'd ever been, which was why I kept giving in to temptation. This will be my last one, then I'll head home--but of course, there was always another last one waiting to be had.

I'd gone home to sleep briefly twice, but I'd never stayed in bed long enough to go from drunk to hungover, so I kept finding myself at yet another bar during all of my waking hours. I knew that I was pissing away my meager savings that came from never having a social life, but it felt worth it. At least I couldn't feel anything other than warm and fuzzy--a sensation I was growing to love increasingly with each moment that passed.

I had to keep drinking, to block out my failings. Alcohol was the only thing that could stop the awful thoughts from whirring round and round in my mind. I'd been given a second chance at life, I'd been offered friends, a guy who seemed to actually like me, and I'd thrown it all away with my own stupidity. I'd pissed it all down the drain, and if there was one thing I could be certain of, it was that people like me didn't get a third chance.

I'd blown it, and now I was screwed.

Worthless. Useless.

Pointless.

Any moment now, I was going to really lose everything and end up penniless, without even a roof over my head--but even that wasn't enough to stop me. As I stepped through the door to my home and I looked around, I tried to imagine what I'd do when all of it was gone. Would I live on the streets? Would I have to go back to my mum's? I really wanted to picture it, and to take the consequences of my actions seriously, but I was just too wasted and I ended up giggling to myself and staggering across the room to flop onto the sofa instead. I needed a short rest, then I could head back out again for some more fun.

My phone blasted out loudly like it'd been doing for days, and it was only the name plastered across the screen that prevented me from throwing it across the room, never wanting to look at it again.

"Kim...Kimberly?" I hiccupped, holding onto my head, wondering if I could somehow make myself sound sober. I really wanted to talk to my friend, mostly to see if she still wanted to speak with me too.

"Lara?" She replied sharply. "What the hell is going on?"

"Huh?" I honestly had no idea what she was on about. I tried to recall any missed meetings or commitments that I'd failed to show up for, but I was drawing a blank.

"Amy rang me--apparently your boss is freaking out because you haven't been going into work. He asked her to cover for you, which of course she can't." She turned her tone a little kinder, before speaking out once more. "What's going on, you can talk to me you know?"

And I knew that she really believed that. She didn't understand that I couldn't, that I didn't even know where to start, that all of this was even worse than my last revelation. The tears streamed violently down my cheeks, choking me up, preventing me from speaking coherently.

"Yeah, I..." But I couldn't even finish the sentence. I couldn't get any of the words that I needed to, out, I was far too choked up.

"Do you need me to come over? Is there anything I can do?" She wanted to help me, and I couldn't stand that. I needed to push her away before I

dragged her down with me. I was no good, and she needed to understand that. I'd made my mess myself, and I needed to let her go before my stupid actions affected her too. I'd spent too much of my life being a burden on everyone else, I wouldn't go there again.

"No," I replied sharply. "I don't need any help. I'm fine."

"Are you drunk?" She asked wearily, pissing me off even more.

"No, I..." But I couldn't finish that sentence because I really didn't have any excuse. I was acting like a total twat and there was nothing I could say to change that.

"Look, Lara." Kimberly jumped in. "I want to help you, I want to be your friend I really do, but you're making that really difficult for me. I don't know what you want. Do you want me to disappear? Do you want to be alone?"

Those words again. I was making it difficult. Charlie had said it, and now Kimberly was too. I made myself completely inaccessible, totally unlikeable. Was that what I'd been trying to achieve all along? Did I simply want to prove to myself that my life really was pointless? That I should have died?

"No." I gasped, realizing that I really didn't want to be by myself any longer. "I just...I need to sort myself out. I'm a mess." As I thought about my situation, it felt hopeless, but Kimberly's words made sure that I wasn't quite ready to fully give up.

Not just yet.

"Okay." She replied. "I'm on my way."

As soon as I hung up the phone, I raced into the bathroom, to pour cold water over my face to try and sober myself up. Kimberly hadn't seen the state I'd become, and I felt embarrassed about it. Funny how humiliation hadn't affected me wondering around the streets like this where anyone and everyone could see me, but the thought of someone I knew seeing me like this, filled me with dread.

Maybe I should have told her not to come. Maybe this was a terrible idea. Maybe I should call her, to tell her to stay away...

Tick, tick, tick.

I could hear the clock ticking nosily next to me, and I found myself growing increasingly irritated by the noise. It wasn't something that I'd ever noticed before, but now the thought was there, I couldn't focus on anything else. I even threw my hands up over my ears, trying to block the sound out, but it was too loud, too intense to ignore. It felt like it was coming from inside my own head, like a headache that I couldn't dull.

It was driving me mad, and I knew there was only one way I could numb it, but I couldn't do that right now. Not with Kimberly coming over. I was already a fucking mess. I couldn't make that any worse.

Although, one drink couldn't make too much of a difference, could it?

Knock, knock.

By the time I heard my friend hammering on the door, I was even drunker than I'd been when I'd spoken to her on the phone. Somehow, I'd managed to drink the entire bottle of wine yet again--all to shut that damn clock up.

"Oh shit," I muttered as I staggered over to let her in. As I swung the door open, I immediately spotted the clear disapproval plastered across her face, despite my foggy state. She was looking at me with such a disappointment that I almost wanted to cry. My body warmed in shame under her scrutinizing gaze, and I cursed myself for being so weak, for not being able to wait. I could have drunk that booze once she was gone, why did I feel the need to do it right away? Why was I so fucking pathetic?

Always so pathetic.

"Can I come in?" Kimberly asked, frustration dripping off of her tongue.

"Yeah...of course." I fixed my eyes on my feet, stepping backward. As she scooted past me, I finally wondered why I hadn't spent the time waiting getting my appearance looking more presentable. My feet were dirty, which sure as hell suggested that the rest of me was a state! I dreaded to even think about what my hair and face were like. I should have taken a shower and got myself in order. What the hell had I been thinking opening that bottle?

"So," she started, sitting among the rubbish that was littering my sofa. When the hell had I become such a pig? I'd never particularly cared about keeping the place immaculate, but this was on another level entirely. And why was I only noticing it now?

I felt utterly ashamed of what I'd become.

"Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on with you?"

As soon as those words left her mouth, tears sprung to my eyes and I felt myself crumble. I felt like I'd been trying to keep myself upright for far too long, and now my foundations were falling away underneath me.

It took my breath away.

"Just...just sit down." Kimberly raced to my side and held me up. "I'll get you some water."

I lost what was happening. My head went dizzy with it all, and I could barely see at all. I could feel my friends' hands on my body, and I could feel the cool liquid trickling down my throat, but everything else was woozy, blurred.

I gasped, beginning to panic that I'd really done myself some damage, that I'd gone and made myself ill all over again, but just as my chest started to get tight, everything began to clear and I felt myself connecting a little to my surroundings once more.

At first, all I could hear was an odd mumbling sound, but after a while, it became clear that Kimberly was trying to talk to me. I stared up at her, trying to read her lips, but my brain wasn't fully switched on yet.

"...are you feeling okay? Do you need someone?"

Finally, I caught something, and I shook my head emphatically. Help meant hospital treatment and I didn't want that. I couldn't deal with heading there again, that might just finish me off.

"Just drink this." She forced some more of the ice-cold water down me, and as it raced around my body, my pulse rate started to calm itself down.

"Thank you." I gasped, feeling overwhelmed that she cared for me so much. "Thank you for...for helping..."

"It's okay Lara," Kimberly replied. "I just...I want you to be okay, that's all."

"I know." I nodded slowly, wishing that for myself too. "It's just..." But I couldn't finish my sentence. I didn't even know how, where I would begin.

"Come on," she held my hand and smiled warmly at me, inviting me in once more. "You can tell me anything. Whatever it is, I'm here for you. I won't judge you, or have a go at you, or...whatever it is that you're worrying about. I just...I want to help."

"Yeah, I know," I admitted. I really felt like she would be able to help, but it wasn't that holding me back. It wasn't fear that she'd desert me because I'd probably be alright even if she did. I'd been alone before, it was likely that I could do it again-- even if it would be harder this time around. "I don't know where to begin."

She looked at me thoughtfully for a few moments, as if she was trying to figure something out, before speaking once more. "Charlie." That name sent daggers through my heart, which was probably written all over my face. I definitely didn't have enough self-control for poker face at that moment. "I feel like all of this began with him. Before your

date, you were happy." Happy.

I remembered that brief moment when I'd actually felt good about my life when I'd been convinced that all was looking up. How naive I'd been to think it would be that simple. How could I actually have thought that I would be so lucky? Good stuff like that just didn't happen for me.

This time as the emotion engulfed me, it didn't bring on tears. Instead, it brought back the numbness that I'd been wearing as armor for a very long time. My insides emptied and I became a shell of myself. Maybe this was my minds way of protecting me when I really couldn't cope with things.

"Yeah, that is when things started to go a bit...you know, shit." I smiled weakly at her as the truth started to make its way out. "He wanted me to tell him all about myself, and I told him to back off." I balked at my own words. Hearing them spoken aloud made me realize what an idiot I'd been, and how rude too. No wonder he'd freaked out and left me, especially when he'd been so honest about his own past.

"Well, I can see why..." Kimberly tried to be diplomatic, but she didn't need to be nice about it. I'd clearly been in the wrong.

"But since he doesn't know anything about me, he can't get why I overreacted." I slumped my head into my hands, realizing how totally and utterly screwed I was with that one. There was no coming back from what I'd done, I was sure of it. The more I thought about his gorgeous face, his lovely personality, and those amazing eyes, the worse that hurt. "He can't understand that it's harder for me, and after what happened with..." I went to say Amy but stopped myself just in time. I couldn't say anything about that awkwardness--Kimberly was in the middle enough as it was, without me making it all worse! "I just couldn't. I overreacted, and totally blew it." I sighed deeply, making eye contact with my friend once more deciding that I might as well be totally honest now. "That, combined with sleeping with him on the very first night we met, doesn't make for a particularly good first impression."

"What?" She slapped her palm across her mouth in shock. "But I thought you were...that you hadn't..."

"You're right," I confirmed. "It was my first time--not that he knew that either."

"Wow, I...I don't..."

"Urgh," I suddenly remembered something else that I'd done. "Then I basically called him a man-whore. It's all just...it's hopeless."

"You really like him, don't you?" Kimberly asked softly, holding my hands in hers. Of course, she was right, I knew that much, but I was also perfectly aware that it made no difference. I'd completely and utterly made a total mess of things, and I couldn't see any solution.

I also couldn't see myself feeling so deeply for anyone else either.

I nodded, wishing that I could attempt a smile, to reassure her that I was alright.

"Well, maybe you can..." She started, but I forced myself to interrupt. I couldn't stand a speech about trying again and making things better. That was so far out of my grasp that it was impossible.

"I can't talk to him again. Not like this." I indicated around my home, hoping that she'd get the message--that I was as much of a state as this place. "I slept with someone else too." I didn't want to confess this; I just wanted her to understand how deep this all ran; how utterly hopeless it was.

She looked blown away by all of this. The girl she'd met only a few weeks prior was shy, introverted, a friendless virgin. This version of me was completely unrecognizable to her. I was to me too, but I was used to that. I hadn't known myself for a very long time.

"Who?" She practically whispered, as if the answer terrified her.

"I don't know." I turned my expression hard, waiting for the inevitable rejection.

"When?"

"The night I had the date. It was after Charlie stormed out." I really did hate myself for this, but there was something a little liberating about getting it off my chest too. I was finding it surprisingly freeing to share just a tiny piece of the weight that was pressing down on me, threatening to drown me at any moment. "I got wasted, and...well, you know. Then I've pretty much been fucking everything up ever since."

"But why?" I'd lost her. She really didn't understand why my descent had been so rapid. Of course, she didn't, even I could see that it wasn't normal. People didn't just go from naught to one hundred in a few seconds; they fell slowly with everyone witnessing the downfall.

"I honestly don't know," I told her. "I just can't...seem to stop. And I don't know why."

"Okay," she announced firmly, having made a decision. "We're going to fix you up, see what we can do..."

"Erm, no." I immediately began shaking my head. I didn't mind baring my soul a little to Kimberly, but I definitely wasn't ready to fix things, and I really didn't want her to get involved. Something about having someone else trying to sort me out filled me with an overpowering sense of horror.

No, I needed to do this alone, on my terms, when I was in the right frame of mind.

And I would be. I would get there; it just might take a little time.

"What do you mean?" Kimberly was hurt now, it was written all over her face. I was torn--half of me wanted to grip tightly onto her, to never let her leave, and the other half wanted to roll my eyes nastily and get rid of her. I wanted to push her away before she could reject me.

But I did neither. I just sat there with a dumb look on my face.

"Lara," She pleaded. "Please don't do this. Please let me in."

I couldn't take it anymore, I was too confused and it was really hurting my brain. The alcohol was still swilling violently around inside me, and I knew I wouldn't be able to do anything rational until it was gone.

But I didn't want it to be gone.

"I'm going out. I need a drink." I announced, no longer caring how I sounded.

I stood up decisively, feeling a smile spread across my cheeks, and I walked outside, grabbing my purse as I went, not even looking behind me to see if she was following...

This was the only path for me now and seeing Kimberly had only confirmed that for me.

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# EIGHTEEN

Another guy--a stranger--had his arms wrapped around me, making me feel special, even if it was only heading one way. I knew he only wanted one thing from me, and I didn't even care. That was all I wanted too--a connection, a moment of human interaction that was solely about him and me. It had made me feel good before, and I was sure it could do so again.

"I like you, Laura." He drooled over my shoulder. I didn't bother to correct him, there was no need. I had no intention of seeing him again after tonight so who cared what he called me?

"Lara!" A shrill voice rang out from behind me, spiking fear into my heart. "What are you doing? Where are you going?"

Oh yeah, I was out with Kimberly. I'd forgotten all about that. She had joined me for a drink to make me feel better, although I was certain it was just because I'd headed to the bar and she wanted to keep an eye on me. For some reason, she was still determined to help me, even though it was completely obviously an impossible task.

"Fuck off." She shrieked at the man. "Leave her alone, she's going nowhere with you."

She grabbed my hand and yanked me towards her, causing me to almost fall at her feet. I was so unsteady...when had that happened?

"Bitch." I heard the guy mumble as he shuffled off. I didn't even care that he was gone. In fact, I found myself kinda glad. He was gross. Not at all the sort of guy who would help me feel better about myself at all--not even beer goggles would have made it fun. I wasn't sure what I'd been thinking with that one.

Or not thinking, more to the point...

"Why the fuck do you keep doing this?" Kimberly yelled into my drunk, stupid face as we made it outside into the cool, fresh air. "Why are you wasting away your life with alcohol and lowlifes like that?"

I opened my mouth to speak but quickly shut it again, knowing that there was really no point in saying anything right now. She didn't understand that I was a lowlife too. That this life was all I deserved. I'd been given a second chance and I'd thrown it away, so I couldn't ask for anything better.

"Why don't you seem to want more? Why won't you let me help you?" She practically begged me to see what she was saying, but I couldn't.

I shrugged in a blase manner, unsure of why I was being such a bitch.

"Lara, you have so much to offer, why are you throwing it away, why are you tossing your life to one side?" She was pleading with me, begging me to give her answers. "Don't you want more for yourself?"

"I don't know who I am anymore!" I finally screamed as a reply, emotion bursting out of me. Standing in public, drunk as all hell, with the rain trickling down my face, it felt like I couldn't contain it anymore, that if I left it inside for even a second longer I might just explode. "I don't know what happened to me. I don't know how to get out of this."

I started to sob uncontrollably, causing my makeup to wash over my face even more--probably adding to the insane look I was undoubtedly wearing.

"I've not known who I am for a very long time, and the more I try to push myself forward, to make something of my life, the further backward I fall." I sighed deeply, feeling like a deflated balloon. "It's too exhausting. I can't keep fighting, this feels easier."

She looked at me, sympathy filling her entire being. She wanted to understand, I could see it in her eyes, but she just couldn't. She thought the same thing as everyone else--that I should be making the most of my life, doing something positive with my second chance. She couldn't understand why I wasn't living life to the fullest, enjoying every moment. She knew that I should be doing more than living in a shitty apartment, working a dead-end job and fucking any guy that looked at me.

Even if I did have feelings for one of them...

"I just...this isn't only about the last few days for me," I spoke, allowing the fatigue to wash over me. "This has been going on since the day I found out that I was going to live. I've been kind of...depressed." Depressed?

The word rolled off my tongue in the heat of the moment, but it gave me pause for thought. Was that what I felt? Was that what controlled me? Was I really, actually depressed? I knew that I'd had some dark moments, but I'd never really considered it in those terms before.

Maybe that was the reason that I couldn't shake this dark cloud off.

How could I make her see what was so clear to me? How did I let her know that I was worthless, useless, that I really should have died? That I wasn't worth this life? How could I make her understand that? If I was any stronger, I'd be dead by now, but I was so pathetic that I couldn't even work up the courage to kill myself...

Surely that thought proved my suspicions. Surely only someone with depression would consider suicide in such a casual manner?

"I don't know how to live," I whispered, fully realizing the extent of everything. "And I'm not sure that I should have survived."

"Lara, please listen to me." My friend stepped forwards, her arms outstretched. My instant reaction was to recoil, to push her away, to hide, but I was too tired to keep doing that. I was exhausted, numb, there was no fight left inside me anymore, so I let her hold me, just for a few moments. "You need to face up to your past before you can move on. Something is dragging you down, and until you deal with it you'll never be able to get better."

Her words were swirling around in my mind, making me feel sicker than I had in a very long time. "I don't know how...I can't..." I was pretty sure that my words were slurred, but there wasn't anything I could do to force myself to sound normal. The problem was she'd basically just said the same as the doctor, but in a way that made much more sense to me.

If I didn't talk through my problems, if I never tackled them, then I would stay in this rut forever. I needed to ask myself how serious I really was about this living thing. If I still decided to go for it, after everything I'd been through, I had one hell of a rollercoaster ride ahead of me, and I wasn't sure if I was fully ready to tackle it.

"Why don't you go and see your family?" Kimberly asked tentatively, but I instantly shook my head in terror.

No way. There was just no way...

"I know it seems intimidating, but it has to be better than this, surely?" She asked. "I'll come with you if that will help. You think it can't do you any good, but it can't do any harm, surely? Your family know you best, and they want what's best for you. To me, that feels like the only place you can be right now. And while everything else is so...up in the air, this could be the perfect time to go."

"I..." I didn't want to. But maybe she was right. Maybe I had to, to be able to move on--I had to revisit my past as a part of the healing process. Maybe it was better than being trapped in this whirlwind of despair anyway. "I don't know." My drunk, sobbing voice replied as I collapsed into her. "I just...it's all so horrible."

"Come on." She sighed, holding my body against hers. "Let's get out of here."

I didn't want to leave, to head back home to where all I had was myself, the silence, and my thoughts, but I didn't want to be out here anymore either.

"Will you stay with me?" I wept pathetically, knowing that she would agree. I didn't deserve Kimberly, and I certainly didn't do anything to make her want to stick around, yet she did regardless.

I was lucky to have her, so why couldn't I see and accept that?

Maybe it really was time to start focusing on the few positives that I did have.

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# NINETEEN

Getting the official notice via letter that I'd been fired from the diner was the final straw. My new life was no more, and there was nothing I could do about it. Sure, I still had my one friend, but now that I was alone again, it was difficult to remember the warmth that she wrapped me in. As I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling crack above me, I realized that Kimberly was right, that I really had nothing to lose by going back home, that it probably was the next logical step for me if I wanted to improve my existence.

She had been right about a lot of things, but that was the only one I was focusing on for the time being.

I picked up my phone and dialed my mother's number before I could change my mind. I needed to take snap action before I gave myself the opportunity to talk myself out of it. I knew it wouldn't take much for me do a complete one-eighty, and unless I wanted to continue on my self-destructive spiral, then now was the time to get things done.

The ring from the phone was dull, but not as monotone as my voice became as soon as she answered. "Hello?"

"Mum, it's me." I let out a deep sigh, really wishing that I didn't have to utter these words. "Can

I come home for a few days?"

"What? Really?" She was so stunned. I could practically hear her pacing the room in shock. "Of course, we'd love to have you back! When are you coming? Just so I can get organized..." It sounded like there was an uncertainty there, which caused a twist of worry to coil up in my stomach, but I quickly shook that thought from my mind, convinced that I'd put it there myself as just another excuse. There couldn't be any more assumptions, any more reasons. I just needed to do this, to get it done now before it was too late for me.

"Today." Now that the decision had been made, there was no point in putting it off any longer. I had to tackle this head on if I wanted to get things back on the right track. "If that's okay?"

"Of course." Her cogs were already ticking, trying to plan everything. I was sure that to her, this was almost worse than a visit from royalty. "I'll ask Carter if he has the time to come and pick you up..."

"No." I interrupted before she got too carried away. "I'm alright mum; I'd rather get the bus." A few hours in the car with Carter sounded too painful for words--we just didn't know each other well enough to have anything to talk about. Public transport was definitely the preferable option. "Then I can..." I tried to think of a valid excuse, so I didn't sound like I was totally rejecting her husband. "Pack, and get all organized..." That was pathetic, but somehow, she bought it. To be honest, she was probably desperate not to do anything that might put me off.

"Okay great, well I'll see you in a few hours then."

I hung up the phone, already regretting my decision. Why did I think that was a good idea? I could have spent the entire day wallowing in self-pity under my sheets instead. Instead, I was going to have to make awkward small talk with my mum's new family and bat off all kinds of questions that might cause concern.

At least it would keep me away from all the temptations that the city held--there was no denying that positive.

I huffed sadly, forcing my weary body out of bed, and tossed a few items into a backpack, thinking that I wouldn't need a lot since I had no intention of being there long. A day, a night, that would be plenty. I was already feeling overwhelmed with all of the attention I was going to get, and I wasn't even there yet! There was no way I'd be able to stand it for too long when it was really happening.

Maybe if they were the normal sort of family that left me pretty much alone, I'd be okay. But of course, they were the opposite of that. Mum would fuss around me until I was ready to weep.

I prayed that this whole finding myself bullshit didn't take too long and that I could return to my solitude soon enough.

***

As soon as I got onto the bus, and it started making the journey towards my hometown, the panic really set in. I was suddenly completely unsure of what the hell I was doing, why I'd allowed Kimberly to convince me that this was in any way a good idea.

Sure, my life in the city was a terrible mess, but this idea of a time-out didn't feel like it was going to be a good one either.

I'd made one bad decision after another, and it really felt like this was going to be another one.

The closer I got, the more the bus progressed on its travels, the more tied up in knots my brain became. The outside world whizzed past in a horrifying blur, and by the time I actually arrived in Newmount, I was more of a hot mess than I had been for months. As I started to spot more familiar landmarks out of the window, the sicker I started to feel.

I couldn't do this. There was just no way this was going to be anything other than awful. If anything were going to send me spiraling backward, it would be this.

I walked slowly from the bus stop to my mother's home, dragging my feet noisily behind me like a petulant child being forced into something that I didn't want to do. Each house I passed was oddly strange and familiar to me all at the same time, like a bizarre dream filled with deja vu. I hated being back here, with all the loaded expectation that was on my shoulders. Now, all the people that I'd left behind in a hurry, with a lot of bad blood flowing between us, would be expecting something from me. They would have assumed that I'd gotten over myself and that I'd finally done something positive. That my move to the city had changed me for the best...not turned me into a complete and utter mess.

The fact that I was going to let every single one of them down was heartbreaking, to say the least. And also, incredibly humiliating. How did someone go for a better life and come back worse off? I was absolutely pathetic.

I stood outside the door of my childhood home for a while, trying to prepare myself, but it seemed like I wasn't going to get the luxury of a moment to myself because before long my mum's face peeked through the window, looking for me and she raced to the front door in excitement the second she spotted me.

"Lara!" She cried happily, with tears shining in her eyes. "Come in." She pressed her hand on the small of my back, encouraging me forward, but it really felt like she was pushing me towards my doom.

I trudged pointedly, feeling a little like an obnoxious teenager who wanted to be bad-tempered and petty all at once. It was amazing that I'd only just stepped into my hometown and I'd already reverted back a few years, to my awful teenage self. Any signs of me becoming an adult had completely vanished--I could almost feel the crazy hormones returning to me, sending me into a wild mess.

Carter came to greet me first, and I instantly noticed how alive and happy he looked--nothing like the man I remembered. Clearly, my illness had dragged the joy out of him, but now that I was gone, he'd gotten himself back. Surprisingly I felt pleased for him, and I realized that I didn't want to put him through any crap again. None of it had been his fault--he'd married my mum for love a long time before anything had happened to me--but he'd suffered regardless, and that wasn't fair. As he wrapped his arms around me in a caring hug, I decided that I would only be nice to him from now on.

I was going to be different--better. I would prove to myself and everyone else that there was more to me, that I could do it.

Then, two strapping young lads stepped from the kitchen, smiling wildly at me.

"Hi, Lara." The smallest one said in a voice that hadn't long broken. "How you doing?"

"Jack?" I gasped. "Phil?" My eyes flickered between them, trying to connect the crazy dots. How had the little boys I'd once known grown into these towering young men? Of course, I'd known that time would intervene, but I couldn't believe quite how much. "Wow."

As we all stepped apart, grinning a little awkwardly at one another, mum started to rush around in the irritating way that she always did when she felt uncomfortable. "Dinner is on; I've made lasagna because that's your favorite." Was it? I couldn't quite remember, so I nodded inanely, deciding to trust her words blindly. "It'll be done soon..."

"Can I go and dump my stuff in my room?" The more she spoke, the more I needed to get that moment to myself. I was beginning to feel the bricks of pressure piling up onto my shoulders, and I needed a second to shake them off.

I watched mum and Carter exchange a guilty look. "Well," she started. "Your old room is Carter's office now. We thought maybe you could sleep in the basement? There's a cot bed down there..."

I sighed dramatically, wanting to show my irritation, before agreeing--knowing that I had no choice. "Fine, whatever. Let me go to the basement to sort my stuff out."

I wasn't sure why I was overreacting to an inevitable change, it just made me feel bad and I needed everyone to understand that. I wanted people to understand my suffering, and maybe feel just a small bit of it for themselves too.

As I stomped down the stairs into the dark, damp basement, angry tears pricked my eyes. I knew that I hadn't been back for years and that I'd never return here to live permanently, but the fact that they could just get rid of my room so quickly was hurtful. How long had they waited before tossing out of all traces of me forever? Were they really that glad I left?

All resolve to behave better went out the window, as an inexplicable rage overtook.

***

Things didn't improve over dinner. Mum kept poking and prodding me, trying to find out more about my life--even though it was obvious that I didn't want to discuss it. I snapped back, desperate for her to get the hint, but she was pointedly ignoring my terrible attitude.

"How was your hospital appointment the other day?" She asked quietly, finally breaking the straw on the camel's back. Of all the subjects I didn't want to talk about, this topped the list. How could she not understand that? I'd spent years mulling over my damn health; of course I didn't want to do it anymore.

I slumped back into my seat, my rage at boiling point. A red mist had well and truly descended, and all rational thought was gone. "Fine mum. God can't you ever just leave it alone?" I snapped angrily.

"Lara." Carter jumped in sharply, slamming his cutlery down in disgust at my childish attitude. "Your mum just wants to know how you are."

"I said fine, so that must mean that I'm fucking wonderful!" I waved my hands manically above my head, not even caring that I so clearly looked like an idiot. Anger had consumed me, and that was all I'd become.

"Language. In front of the boys." He shot back, not taking my bullshit lying down. In any other situation, I would have been glad of this--it meant he was treating me like everyone else, not as if I was a special case--but not now. Now I was fucking furious.

I couldn't take it anymore. I wasn't really angry at them, it was at myself, but I exploded at my family anyway, needing a target to take some of the strain away from me.

"Oh, fuck you, Carter." I sneered nastily, sounding nothing like myself at all.

"Lara..." Mum warned, but it was too late.

"What do you want from me? You want me to lie? To tell you that everything is fucking wonderful?" I

scraped my chair backward, knocking my plate everywhere as I stood up. I was bein

g completely rude, a total bitch, and I didn't even care. "Well, I'm sorry that I don't fit into your perfect family, that I'm an inconvenience, that my entire life is a complete and utter sham."

"No..." Mum tried, but I was on a roll. There was no way that she was getting a word in edgeways however much she tried.

"I bet you all wish that I had died, don't you?" I stared at them all, in turn, seeing the shock and disdain plastered across all of their faces. "Well, guess what? So, do I. Everything would be fucking easier if I was gone." Much to my annoyance, tears were streaming down my cheeks now, causing Phil to shoot me a look of utter sympathy.

I did not need his fucking pity!

"You want rid? You cleared out my room as a hint? Well good--here you are getting exactly as you want!"

And with that, I span on my heels and stalked out the door, ignoring their weak protests ringing out behind me. It wasn't until the fresh air hit my face that I realized I didn't have my backpack with me, which meant I'd have to go back at some point. The keys to my apartment were in there, so I couldn't cope without it.

But not right now, I couldn't go back right this second, not while I was so mad.

Instead, I went to the only place that I would feel comfortable, even if it was somewhere I'd never been before. Not here anyway. I needed to go to the local pub.

The only thing that could fix this was a drink. Alcohol was the only thing that could numb all of these emotions and being back home didn't change that. Whatever Kimberly thought I was going to achieve by returning here, she had been very, very wrong, and now I needed to drown all of that away.

If this was the only answer to everything that was fucking me up, then clearly, I was done. There was nothing left.

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# TWENTY

As soon as I sat down at the bar and had ordered a drink--before I had even begun to take a deep breath to process all that had happened--an unwelcome, familiar voice rang out.

"Lara? Is that you?"

I hung my head for a second, closing my eyes and muttering 'of course' to myself, before plastering on a big fake smile and spinning around on the bar stool. There it was--the familiar shock of red hair, the blue eyes pierced with concern, the rose tattoo peeking out from under her shirt.

I took a quick gulp of my wine, desperate to steady my nerves.

"Daphne." Even I could hear the fakeness in my voice as I spoke, but I tried my damn hardest to keep that under control. "How are you?" I felt like I should reach out for a hug, but I didn't. I kept my arms planted firmly by my sides, almost stubbornly so. Under normal circumstances, I might have been able to act like all was okay, but I was still reeling from Carter's words, and I couldn't seem to stop myself from acting out.

I knew that I wanted to make things right, that I wanted to speak civilly with Daphne, but right now when I'd just argued with my family and my head was a big old mess, I just wasn't in the mood.

She stepped closer as if she was about to do the same, before thinking better of it. This small movement was enough for me to see Bradley shifting from foot-to-foot awkwardly behind her. I narrowed my eyes at him, overwhelmed with an urge to punch him full pelt in his stupid, freckly face, but I refrained. He wasn't even making eye contact with me anyway; he was a coward--not worth my time, or my fist.

"You should have told me that you were coming." Daphne gushed in an over-the-top fashion, plonking herself next to me, totally ignoring the thick tension that was swilling around us. I grabbed my glass of wine as if it were a shield and took another much-needed gulp. As the bubbles slid down my throat, I felt a sense of calm starting to overtake; even my pulse rate began to slow down. "I would have arranged something."

She wanted to act like nothing had happened, like we hadn't fallen out like I hadn't spent the last year or so ignoring her. And I wanted that too, I really did. I just didn't know if it was achievable.

"Yeah well," I murmured, trying to sound casual. "It was all a bit last minute."

"We have so much to catch up on." She changed the subject rapidly, sensing that it was teetering into dangerous territory. "Tell me everything."

I almost laughed out loud at this. Where could I start? The shitty job that I'd just been fired from? The amazing guy that had actually liked me, but that I'd blown off because I didn't want to tell him about myself? The number of friends I had that were petering down by the second? Or maybe she would prefer to know about how much I liked to drink now, or how I'd screwed people I didn't know just in a poor attempt to feel better about myself?

No, I couldn't share any of me with her. I was going to have to get her talking, and I could tell that she was practically bursting at the seams, wanting to discuss the one topic that I was desperate to avoid, so I decided to take this hit and ask her about it.

The wedding.

It was either that or be honest--and that really wasn't my strong point.

"I'd rather hear all about you." I grinned through gritted teeth, trying desperately to keep it all inside. "You're the one with big news after all."

As she exploded with an information overload about napkin colors, roses, and seating plans, I managed to tune it all out. Instead, I focused on Bradley. He'd slid into the seat beside her but looked like he'd rather be anywhere else in the entire world. When I thought back to how close we'd once been, it was difficult not to feel a little hurt. How had we managed to go from high school sweethearts to strangers who didn't even want to be near one another?

"Okay, Bradley?" I asked, completely shooting down Daphne in the middle of her rant. If I hurt her feelings, I didn't even notice. She certainly didn't speak up about it at any rate. She just shrank in on herself.

Bradley stared at me with shock in his expression, and I tried--and failed--to muster up a genuine smile. The wine was now swilling around inside of me, giving me a bit of the fuzzy head that made me do things that I normally wouldn't. I knew that I could have just sat there and ignored him, politely listening to his girlfriend, but the small amount of alcohol had lit a fire in my belly--one that wouldn't be dulled.

"Erm..." He stammered, his eyes flickering awkwardly between me and Daphne. "Yes."

"You don't need permission from your girlfriend to talk to me, do you?" I had meant this to be an ice-breaking joke, one that would dispel the elephant in the room, but instead, I sounded snarky and rude.

"I..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Daphne sounded angry now. She had red spots on her cheeks, which she only ever got when things felt totally out of her

control. "Why are you being difficult?" Difficult, always difficult.

This really got my back up. I was trying so hard to make everyone else feel comfortable. It was them attacking me that made things so hard. Why couldn't they all see what they were doing to me? Why couldn't they see that I didn't want to be difficult, but that I didn't know how to be anything else?

"Oh yeah." I laughed bitterly. "It must be really difficult for you, stuck talking to me--the girl who should be dead. I'm so sorry that it's awkward for you." I slid my seat back and stood up, my rant starting to get into full flow. All of the horrible emotions that I'd been feeling for years began to make their way to the surface, and I could no longer control any of them. "Sorry that my being alive is such an inconvenience to you and my boyfriend." I didn't even know why I was zoning in on that--it wasn't as if I wanted Bradley anymore. I just wanted them to understand a tiny iota of the pain I'd been through. I just wanted to hurt them as much as they had me, even if they hadn't intended to.

"Lara, you can't..." Daphne was trying to sound overly calm now as if she was dealing with a grouchy child, which of course only resulted in riling me up further.

"No, Daphne. You can't. You can't even begin to understand me, and what I've been through. You have no fucking idea..."

"Oh God." She sneered nastily. "It's all about you, isn't it?" She stood up too, facing me with the most defiant look I'd ever seen. "Poor little Lara, she didn't die and now she doesn't know what to do." I balked at her words, but that didn't stop her. It seemed like months of frustration were boiling out in this moment. "Guess what, Lara? Most people would kill for the chance you have, and you're pissing it away." I stepped back, wanting to run away. I didn't need to hear this, I couldn't. "But you're selfish." She snapped once more. "You always have been, and you always will be."

"I..." I felt the color drain from my face. Daphne was telling the truth about me where no one else would. Even the words that Kimberly had spoken to me when she was trying to make me see sense had been laced with kindness. I knew that Daphne was trying to make me see things clearly, but I didn't want to accept it. She was saying what no one else had the guts to, and it hurt like hell.

"Fuck you, Lara." She finally spat out, giving me a look of utter hate, before stalking out of the bar, leaving a trail of destruction behind her.

Me and Bradley had an intense moment of eye contact. All that wasn't, that might have been, that would never be, flowed between us. I could see him trying to fit the girl he'd once known into the box that I was now, but he couldn't. Of course, he couldn't--she was no longer there. I just stared back at him, bewildered, almost wishing that I had answers for him.

Then he slowly shuffled out too, leaving me all alone. Just as I deserved.

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# TWENTY-ONE

I could have left the pub, I really could have. I should have gone back home and sorted things out with my family, but I didn't. Instead, I sat back down at that bar and did they only thing I knew how to these days--I ordered another drink.

Then another, then another.

This had been a stupid mistake; I should never have come back here. Now I'd fallen out with my family, yelled at my friend, and I felt shittier than ever. Again, I'd messed up my second chance, and of course, I had no idea what to do about it.

Maybe if I was a better person, I could have sorted all of this out. But I wasn't, and I never would be.

I just couldn't stop myself from acting rashly, even when I knew the consequences were going to be unbearable and long-lasting. What the hell was wrong with me? I dwelled on that question for a long time, unable to come to any solid conclusion.

Before long, a vaguely familiar face was sitting next to me, talking to me about school. It was clearly someone that I'd known a while back, but I had no idea who it was now. However, the more I drank, the more attractive his features became, and the closer I felt to him. Suddenly, his annoying laugh became endearing, and his insistence of trying to be my friend became cute. He was the only one being nice to me and for that reason alone, I wanted him.

I wanted him to make me feel better, even though I knew it was unlikely that he could.

I decided that I would kiss him. Somewhere in my fuzzy brain that clearly wasn't thinking straight, I chose to--in a very drunken, ungainly fashion--to lurch for him...

...Just to be stopped by my stepfather, like a naughty schoolgirl who'd been found behind the bike sheds.

"Lara." Carter snapped, dragging me backward. "What the hell is wrong with you? You left your mother behind crying at home, just to come here to get stupidly drunk and paw some idiot guy?"

"Hey!" The idiot guy yelled out, but Carter shut him down quickly.

"Just keep out of it you unless you want some home truths too." With that, I watched the coward sneak off, leaving me to take all of the blame. "Now, come on home. I've been looking everywhere for you, I've been out for hours."

He screamed at me all the way home, and I let him do it. I didn't even roll my eyes or snap back. I just couldn't be bothered. I'd dwindled into the exhausted stage of drunk, and once I was there, all I could was sleep it off. I didn't have the energy for a fight. Not even this one.

Unfortunately, rest was a long way off because Carter and my mum had a whole lot to say to me, and they felt like right now was the right time for that. It quickly turned from a relatively normal chat into one of those arguments where everything became blurry and distorted, where we all lost track of what we were saying. Everything that was within me, everything that I'd been through, almost came bubbling to the surface, but I forced myself to keep inside. I couldn't let any of it out. Once I opened those floodgates, I didn't think there would be any shutting them, and I didn't want my mum to have to witness me breaking down like that.

I did say all kinds of awful things that I didn't really mean, then I tried to retract them all, to have a normal conversation, but I was too drunk and confused for anything to sound rational. Every word I spoke managed to sound bitchy and pissed off, even when I didn't mean them that way.

In the end, I burst into sobbing tears, and my mother sent me to her bed for a long, decent night of rest. I wasn't sure where her and Carter were going to sleep, but I was too tired to even ask. Once I was under the sheets, I expected emotion to build up inside me all over again, but I passed out within seconds.

***

When the morning came around, I felt like I could die. My head was thumping, my body hurt, and nausea flooded through me. I wanted the pain to subside, and I knew the only way I was going to do that was by vomiting. But I didn't want to move.

Of course, I had to; I wasn't getting any choice with that one. If I didn't, I'd end up puking in the bed where I wanted to lay and that would force me to wake up, which I wasn't ready for either.

As I staggered to the bathroom, wishing more than ever I could be at my own home where I could suffer this in peace, I bumped into the person that I wanted to see least in the world.

"Not now, mum." I croaked, seeing the horrified look on her face at the state of me. "I'm ill."

"I'm not surprised." Her face flushed pink and her entire body tensed up, showing me just how angry she was about my behavior the previous night. I wanted to cringe, to yell some more, but somehow, I was back to being the teenage girl getting shouted at by her mum and just quietly allowing it to happen.

Not that it happened too much when I was the right age. Illness had taken that away from me too. But that didn't make now a good time for my rebellious years, not one bit!

"We have a lot to discuss young lady, and I expect you downstairs in the dining room, as soon as you feel better." She sounded cold as if she had to get this sentence out in the calmest way possible.

"Yeah," I replied sullenly, feeling myself pout. "Alright."

And then I headed into the bathroom to hug the toilet for as long as I needed to.

I didn't meet her downstairs for hours. I puked for a while, then headed back to bed until I felt ready to face them. I knew that I'd never be fully ready to deal with what was to come, but I also knew that I couldn't hide away forever. If I wanted to leave here, to get back to my life, then I might as well get this over and done with.

As I reached the dining table, mum and Carter were already there, as if they'd been waiting for me for all that time. I slunk into my seat, already regretting my decision to come down the stairs. I should have given it a few more hours, to give me the chance to feel less fragile. I flicked my eyes between them both, wishing that this was already over, wishing that I was still being hugged by the gorgeously thick duvet they had on their bed.

"Lara." My mum started, seriously, as if she'd rehearsed what was about to come. "I don't know who you are anymore, and that worries me. What we saw last night was quite frankly, terrifying."

"Mum..." I started, shaking my head. I didn't need this! I was fine...or at least I would be once I'd figured myself out a bit.

"No, let me speak." She shut me down quickly. "Now, I know that you've been through a difficult time, but you need to recover from that. You need to get some focus, so aim, you need to do something."

Carter jumped in, even though I was mentally praying for him not to. "The behavior I witnessed in the bar was extremely troubling, and because of that we want you to stay here for a while; your mother wants to keep an eye on you."

"No." I wouldn't do that. There was just no way...

"I'm not giving you the option." Mum jumped in, using a tone that I'd never heard before. One that meant business. "It's that or rehab."

The threat of another hospital environment shut me up quickly. She was deadly serious--there was no way that she would have mentioned it otherwise. She was the only person who knew how much I didn't like medical facilities of any kind.

"And I want you to do some sort of therapy." She continued, sending panic coursing wildly through me. I'd spent such a long time trying to avoid talking through my problems with a professional, that the idea now filled me with an undue sense of utter terror.

How the hell was I going to get out of this one?

"I don't know if that's..."

"It is a good idea, Lara." She finished firmly. "I should have done it right away, but I was blind to how bad things were."

"I'm alright really," I argued weakly, but it got me nowhere.

"Lara, if you don't let us help you then I'm afraid we are going to have to take more drastic action. I don't want..." She clamped her lips together tightly as an unreadable expression crossed her face. As tears filled her eyes, a guilty feeling built up inside of me, taking over everything else. It got to the point where I felt so awful, I would have agreed to just about anything she suggested. "I just don't want anything bad to happen to you."

I nodded slowly, already regretting agreeing to this. This would be a mistake, I just knew it, but I didn't see what choice I had. "Okay mum," I finally replied with sadness lacing my tone. "I'll do it. Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it."

TWENTY-TWO

As I sat in a circle of strangers on hard plastic chairs, I felt like my world had ended. This was a part of my mum's terms, and quite frankly it was something that I could really do without.

Although, this option had been the lesser of all the evils!

Mum originally tried to sign me up for one-on-one counseling sessions, but there was no way I could do that. All of that intense, scrutinizing attention gave me a mini panic attack just thinking about it, so when she'd talked about a group, I figured that would be much better. It made it even more appealing because it was run in the local community center. I didn't even think it was being organized by a professional, just some guy with an online qualification, which was absolutely perfect for me. The less real this was, the better. If it had been at the hospital, or at the doctor's surgery, it would have felt too clinical for me.

I felt lucky to have found such a casual, slack group. I figured I could blend into the background for the meager six sessions, skating under the radar until it was over, allowing me to get out of this nightmare and go back home.

How wrong I'd been.

This attention was going to be even worse than with just one professional. Here, I would have nine more sets of eyes looking at me too. I hadn't realized just how daunting that would be. Sure, they had their own worries to focus on, but there was no way I'd be able to speak out loud in front of them all. I couldn't tell my story to all of these strangers--even if they kind of understood me. Maybe after today, I would have to find another solution. I just hoped mum would be as flexible as I needed her to be.

"...shall we go around the circle and introduce ourselves?" I finally turned back into what the guy in charge of this bullshit was saying, just in time for him to strike cold fear into my heart.

I flicked my eyes around quickly, trying to see if anyone else hated this idea as much as me, but none of them had anything on their faces to suggest as much. They all looked ready for this, happy to progress. Urgh, why could no one else see how much of a waste of time this was? Were they actually expecting some sort of life transformation in six sessions? It was mental!

Everything that had attracted me to this course now put me right off it.

I stared at everyone in turn as they spoke, creating a hum in my head so I didn't have to know any of their names. I didn't want any information about any of them in my brain; I didn't want any of their stories to affect me, or to impact on me in any way.

I just needed this over.

And then it came to me, and I realized I should have listened a little if just to know what everyone else had said.

"Erm..." I sat up awkwardly, feeling an intense blush fill my cheeks. "My name is Lara." I coughed uncomfortably, noticing everyone looking at me expectantly. Did they want more from me? Were they assuming that I was going to tell my whole story now? My heart pounded painfully against my rib cage at that prospect, I was nowhere near ready for that today! I'd been expecting that much later on, if at all. "I'm twenty-three years old." My mind had gone completely blank; I had no idea what to say. Stressed burned brightly in my stomach and began to creep around my veins. "And I live...you know, here." I shouldn't have said that since it hadn't been the truth for a while now, but it spilled past my lips regardless.

"Okay Lara, thank you." The guy seemed to realize that I was struggling, and thankfully he intervened before it got really torturous.

As the attention turned away from me and centered in on someone else, I let out a breath that I hadn't even realized I was holding.

That was painful!

My breaths were coming out labored as the others took their turn to speak. I felt like panic was emanating out of every single pore, and that was making it all so much worse.

I hated this. This was going to be a horrible fucking six sessions. It might have only been a short time--too little to make a real difference to me-- but in that moment, it felt like it was going to be an eternity.

***

I didn't speak out again. Not for the first three sessions anyway. I simply sat there in silence, taking everything in. I couldn't stop from becoming inquisitive though as the days passed, and I found myself listening in to what others had to say, despite my best intentions. And the more I learned about everyone else, the more convinced I became that I really didn't belong in the group.

These people were serious addicts, people who had been battling against booze and even drugs for years--not months, like me. They'd gotten past the worst of it in proper rehab facilities but still needed the discussion group to help them when things got hard. On top of that, a lot of them had been through some real problems in their lives--loss, abuse, neglect...the sort of thing I couldn't even begin to imagine.

My issues were nothing compared to all of this. I didn't belong, but I couldn't leave either. I'd already been through half of it, I was so close to being back to real life, and I didn't want to give it up now. Mum would never forgive me if I walked away, and I didn't want to shame her any more than I already had. Things were strained enough at home, without bringing this into the equation too.

But even if I had to stay, I couldn't speak out. I

was too embarrassed. I was pathetic compared to this lot, and I didn't want them to realize just how silly my issues were.

"So, thanks, everyone." Mr. Banks--or whatever the instructor's name was--spoke out. "This is session four now, and it's time to try something new."

New?

I couldn't do new. This routine was fine by me; I was getting away with silence with the way things were. I didn't like the idea of changing anything in case it worked against me.

"We're going to work in pairs, shake things up a bit." He smiled around the room, seemingly ignoring my horrified expression. "Now, this is normally met with disdain, but trust me people always come around."

I highly doubted that.

"You'll soon see just how beneficial this can be."

I scanned my eyes around the room, trying to work out who was the chattiest. I wanted them as my partner so I could get away with speaking the bare minimum yet again. But it seemed like nothing intended to go my way today because the most talkative people in the room acknowledged who they wanted to be partnered with using their eyes. They picked people that they already had a bond with, leaving just me and one of the older guys-- who also didn't say much--to be together.

As we sat facing each other, I could feel my heart pounding so loudly it felt like it could burst out of my chest at any moment. Devon--my partner--was looking at me a little strangely, almost as if he could hear it, which was making me feel all the more uncomfortable.

"...and now I want you to discuss your stories with one another, giving feedback where appropriate. Then we are going to start of figuring out goals for the future--something to help you move on." Oh, God.

Stories...feedback...goals...

As the buzz of chatter started to flow up around the room, Devon and I continued to look at one another awkwardly. I felt my face heat up, and just to detract attention away from that, I felt forced to talk.

"So, erm..." I stammered. "Do you want to go first?"

Please say yes!

"Okay." He shrugged his shoulders, filling me with relief. "Sure. Well, I...I lost my wife a few years back, but honestly, my problems started way before that. I love drink just a little bit too much." He said this dismissively as if it was unimportant, but I could sense the loaded meaning there. It seemed like he felt things a little too much, like me, and he used alcohol as a crutch to hide that. "I mean, I'm done with that now, I don't drink at all anymore. I just...I guess I can't recover from the shitty decisions that I made."

"How did you get over it?" I found myself asking without really thinking about it. I leaned my body closer to him, needing him to open up to me.

"I couldn't until I was ready to. I had a moment of clarity, and that simply spurned me to make the changes. I had some medical help, but to be honest, once the decision had been made I didn't really need it."

"Wow." I felt his words flow through me, and an encouragement sparked. If Devon could do this after going through so much more than me, then I could do. Maybe this could be my moment of clarity. Maybe his words would inspire me to do what needed to be done.

Maybe some good could come out of this after all. "Do you mind if I ask what inspired you?" I knew I was digging deep here, that I was overstepping an invisible boundary, but I couldn't help it. I needed this information to help me. "If you don't mind me asking?" I wanted to give him the option; if he didn't want to tell me then I certainly wasn't going to force him--I knew how awful it was when people did that.

He slumped back into his chair, eyeing me, trying to see what this meant to me. I kept my eyes fixed on his; wanting him to understand that my intentions were honorable. He must have decided that I deserved this information because thankfully he continued.

"When I lost Hayley--my wife--I was a fucking mess." I flinched a little at his cursing because it seemed so alien coming out of his mouth. Whatever he'd been through in the past, he was smartly dressed and well-presented now. It just sounded so strange coming from him. "I lost myself, and I wanted to feel something, anything." A sentiment that I understood well. "And I started picking up random chicks in bars, just wanting something to make me feel better." I almost gasped loudly at this statement. It was all too familiar to me. In a weird way, it was as if he was telling me my story. "Then one day, I just looked down at the woman lying in my bed and I realized that not only did I not know her name or anything about her, but that she was also young enough to be my daughter." He sighed deeply--but not as if the memory was painful, or that he was ashamed of it. Just that it was an accepted part of his past, one that he had no control over anymore. This attitude was amazing to me, I felt utterly horrendous about everything I'd done, every single time I thought about it. "Hayley would have been ashamed of me, and that's what made me know that it was time to grab my life back."

I felt my eyes well up uncontrollably. I didn't want to get emotional--especially not in here--but I just couldn't help it.

"How about you?" Devon asked kindly, sending me a smile.

After all, he'd told me, I couldn't hold back now. That didn't seem fair. "Erm..." I wiped a tear off my face quickly, cursing myself for allowing myself to break down. "Well, I...I..."

I just had no idea how to start, and Devon could clearly sense that. "Did you...lose someone?" He asked, which was a reasonable question since most people in the group had.

"No, not exactly." I blew out a terrified breath of air. "It was me that was supposed to die."

For some reason, getting that piece of information out in the context of this group was lifting. I felt a little better for doing so.

"But I got better." I nodded, as I continued. For a second, it seemed like Devon was going to jump in to ask me something, but then he thought better of it and pursed his lips shut. "I just...I don't know how to be alive." I laughed uncomfortably, but the tears weren't disguised by that.

Devon nodded as if he really understood what I meant, and I felt in that moment that he did.

"I guess since then, my story has been similar to yours." I shot him a shaky smile. "I started to drink, to...to try to feel..." I was too embarrassed to say it out loud, but I hoped that he got my meaning anyway. "I don't know to get out of this funk. Every time I attempt to move forward, I keep messing up."

"Okay, guys." Mr. Banks clapped loudly, grabbing all of our attention. I tried to discreetly sort myself out as he talked, but it was a fruitless task. "We need to move on to goals now, to how we're going to move forward."

Me and Devon looked at each other a little awkwardly, wondering how we were going to get from all of that to something new.

"So, what now?" I grinned through my shiny eyes, trying to lighten the mood.

"I don't know." Devon sighed. "I'm past the biggest hump now, I'm done with booze, but I'm still a little stuck..."

"Yeah." I nodded distractedly, already thinking about my own goals. I was sure that I could overcome the drink now. In fact, I was positive of it. I wasn't exactly addicted or anything, I just liked the way it helped to block out all of my problems. But I wouldn't do that anymore. I would tackle them head-on. It was everything else that I needed to work on.

A list started to form in my mind:

  1. Make up with my parents.
  2. Sort things out with Daphne.
  3. Apologize to Kimberly.
  4. Try to speak to Charlie.
  5. Organize my apartment.
  6. Think about what I want to do with my life, and get some kind of job...

But the list started to pile up and up, already feeling impossible--and that was just the easy parts of getting organized. I hadn't even gotten to the real challenges yet.

I sighed sadly, tuning out Devon's talk as I tried to work out what the hell I was going to do next.

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# TWENTY-THREE

The group sessions came to an end much too quickly--which was a surprising thought considering how much I didn't want to go in the first place. Now that they'd finished, I felt even more lost than before. I'd found a weird comfort within it, and now that was gone. Ever since I'd allowed myself to truly open up with Devon, it had become a real source of relief for me, so it was odd to know that I'd no longer have that.

I wanted to go home, I really did, but I was afraid. Once I was back there, I had to face up to real life, and I wasn't quite ready for the responsibility that held. Mum wasn't exactly encouraging me to leave either--it was almost as if she wanted to keep an eye on me, to check that I was behaving in the way that she felt was appropriate.

Our relationship was tense now, and it didn't feel like it would ever go back to the way it was, which was a shame. Carter, Phil, and Jack didn't speak to me much either--it was almost as if I'd become the sick girl once more, the one that no one knew how to act around. I hoped that I would be able to repair that one day, but I could tell that it would take some time. It certainly wasn't going to be an instant, easy solution at any rate.

There were so many things I knew I should be doing, but it all felt like bricks piling heavily on my shoulders. I couldn't even see out of the rubble, never mind work my way through it. I hated being so useless, so pathetic, but I just couldn't get started. It was painful. After all, I'd learned in group therapy, I should be in a position to get going, yet somehow, I didn't feel quite there.

I wasn't drinking though--that was one thing. Devon's words had worked in that respect. He was right, now that I'd decided that I didn't want to anymore, actually doing it wasn't too difficult. Of course, I wasn't an addict which helped--I knew it must be much more difficult for those who needed medical intervention--yet I felt proud of myself all the same. It still felt like something I should be happy about.

I found myself spending way too much time simply lying on my mum's sofa, just wishing that I could get the motivation to get myself started. I felt so exhausted with all that needed to happen that I could hardly move.

It was that which eventually sparked a long overdue conversation with my mother.

"Lara." She said one evening after everyone else had gone to bed. "We need to talk." I nodded distractedly, half-watching whatever was on the television, paying little mind to her words. "It's about your father."

As soon as she said that, I swung my legs to the ground and switched the screen off. We never spoke about my father, he was a taboo subject. I barely knew him. In fact, I couldn't remember him at all; I didn't even know what he looked like. He'd left us when I was about two-years-old, and that had sent my mum into a spiral of sadness for a while.

She'd picked herself up quick enough for my sake, and even more so when Carter had come into the picture, but on the odd occasion that I'd mentioned it since then, it had brought about such a melancholy mood, that I felt it best never to say anything about him again.

"Mum?" I asked. Why now? What had changed?

"It's just...the way that you're behaving at the moment, it reminds me of him." I could tell that there was a thick ball of emotion in her throat, threatening to choke her as she spoke, and that made me well up too. "He was depressed. Seriously depressed, which is why he left us."

I gasped loudly. I hadn't known that. He was depressed...what did that mean for me?

"He sunk low like you, all the time, and he refused medical assistance." The same as me too. "And he ended up running out, losing his mind."

She hung her head, an aura of sadness consuming her. "What mum?" I asked, my heart starting to race with fear. This was going somewhere, I could tell, and I was pretty sure that I wasn't going to like it.

"His sister rang me a few years back--you were in the midst of everything then, it was such a difficult time," I remembered all of it, how sick I'd been, how horrible I'd felt all the time, and for the first time in a very long time, I actually felt lucky. I was fine now, which was a miracle by anyone's standards. Sure, I didn't always feel a hundred percent, but it was nothing compared to what life was like for me back then. "I didn't tell you at the time, it didn't feel right too." She sucked in air, looking like she desperately needed to calm herself down.

"What is it?" There was a warning edge to my tone. This was going to be bad, and I needed the plaster to be ripped off quickly.

"He...he killed himself."

"Oh fuck." I blurted out, slapping my hand across my mouth. I'd half expected her to end with something like that, but having it confirmed was almost too much to bear.

"I just...I worry that you...you might..." She started to sob hysterically, crying really hard and guilt washed over me once more.

She thought she was going to lose me that way too. I'd made her believe that. I'd made the burden already resting on top of her heavier, and I felt horrible for that.

Daphne was right, I really was a selfish person.

I raced to her side and wrapped my arms around her. "Mum, I'm sorry I didn't..." My cheeks were wet now too. "I'm not..." I couldn't find the words to say it aloud. "I won't, I promise."

She clutched onto me, and we both wept for the man that had torn our family to shreds, without even meaning to.

At least mum had moved on from that, at least she had her new family now. I didn't even know my dad, and somehow, he'd affected me the most. I couldn't believe what an impact a ghost could have on me.

"Did he...did he know about me?" I couldn't help but ask. I wondered if my sickness had affected him, or if it would have changed his mind.

"I'm sorry Lara, he didn't. Until Joyce contacted me, I hadn't known where he was for years." She looked at me for a few seconds. "Let me go and get you the photograph I have of him."

As she left the room I started to think that maybe mum was right to worry. Maybe depression was in my genes, my blood. Maybe that was why I was such a fucking mess.

***

That thought worried me more than anything else over the next few days until I decided that the only way I would become like the man I shared my DNA with, would be if I let it happen. If I plowed on forwards, if I worked through it all, I would be fine. I'd been doing okay so far, sure things had been difficult, but I knew that things couldn't possibly get to that point unless I allowed that to occur.

I couldn't let that happen. And I would carry my dad's picture with me at all times to remind me of that. I couldn't stop staring at him. I looked so much like him, it was unbelievable. Looking at him now, it was obvious that I must have taken after him because I didn't really look anything like my mum. The same dark hair, sad eyes, cheekbone structure...But that would be all I shared with him. I felt bad that he'd been so depressed that he'd taken his own life, it saddened me greatly, but I knew that would never be me. I was stronger than that.

And I also finally felt ready to tackle my real life.

But as I broached the subject of me leaving with my mum, she completely shut me down.

"No." She immediately shook her head. "Not yet, you can't. You aren't ready. You need us."

I tried not to fume at that--she was the one who had sparked the desire to leave with all of her worry, and now she didn't want me to go? But I forced myself to keep it inside. I could see now how scared she was to lose me, and she hadn't seen any progress within me to suggest that I would be okay. She didn't understand the shift in my head, and I hadn't given her long enough to view the evidence of that.

What I needed to make her understand was that I needed to get back to my life to make any progress. Sitting here was nothing more than a time-out from reality, one that I really didn't need anymore. It had been a good break for me, one that had changed everything, but now I needed to go and work on what I'd learned. There were a lot of people that I

needed to make things up to, and I felt ready to get started on that.

"Mum," I tried kindly, grabbing her hands in mine. "I need to go. I need to get back to my real life..."

"What life?" She snapped back, her hurt shining through. "You have no job, no responsibilities. You need to be around people while you recover. Carter and I have paid your rent for the next few months for your apartment, just to keep your stuff safe, but you need to be here, with us. You can't be alone." She was practically pleading with me, and I could feel my resolve starting to waver, but I forced myself to stay strong.

"Mum, I'm okay now. I need to start sorting myself out."

"No, you aren't, you're a mess." A single tear flicked from her eye and rolled slowly down her cheek. "I won't hear another word on it. Not for the time being anyway."

After that, I tried to stay for her sake, I really did, but it wasn't doing me any good. Something dramatic had shifted inside of me, and I needed to be free to explore that. I couldn't sit here in these four walls, going nuts, and I couldn't see how I was going to make my mum understand.

I didn't want to do anything rash, but she was leaving me with no choice. I needed to get away from all of them, I had to get back to myself, and God damn it I was a grown ass woman. If I wanted to go home, then I would.

So, I did something truly shocking and awful, feeling horribly guilty the entire time, but also knowing that I was doing the right thing and that in the end, everyone else would see that.

At least, I seriously hoped they would...

I snuck off in the middle of the night, caught the bus home, leaving only a note behind.

'To mum and Carter,

I'm sorry for leaving in this way, but I don't know what else to do. I need to stand on my own two feet - and I know you don't think I'm ready for that but I am.

Please trust me. This is the right thing for me to do, I hope that you'll see that eventually.

Lara xxx'

I knew mum would flip--of course, she would-- but I needed to do what was right for me. I hoped that she would see that I was different now, that the therapy had impacted on me in a positive way. I knew for a fact that if she didn't see it now, then she would eventually.

I just needed to prove myself.

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# TWENTY-FOUR

As I sat on the night bus, watching the dark world go by, Daphne's words filled my mind once more. I'd been thinking about that encounter a lot lately, wishing that I'd had the opportunity to do things differently before I left. But that was just going to be something else that I would have to tackle at a later date.

I could have done it while I was still there, but I'd much rather go back and face her when I was stronger when I finally had something to be proud of.

'Selfish'

'All about you'

'Fuck you, Lara'

I hated what she'd said to me, but there was no denying that she was right, and I really didn't want to be that person anymore. I wanted to change so badly, and now I felt a bit more like I had the tools to be able to do so. I wouldn't make the same mistakes as before; I would do things differently this time. I was going to take this second--or third, wherever I was by this point--chance, grab it with both hands, and make it exactly what it should have been all along.

Whatever that was.

It didn't matter, I wasn't focusing too much on what I was going to do exactly, I was just going to make things better. That was my goal for the time being, and that was enough.

I wasn't going to end up like my dad, no matter what.

And that thought kept me feeling positive, despite knowing that I'd done wrong by my family, all the way home.

As I finally stepped back into my house--my shitty little apartment--I realized that I finally had the opportunity to make a really decent life affecting change for myself. My apartment was paid off, for the time being, I had no job holding me back, now was the time to pull it all together.

Now was the time to figure out what my damn dream was! The issue that I'd been struggling with for ages.

Of all the jobs I had to do to help me achieve my goal of a more positive life, that was the one I struggled with the most. I just had absolutely no idea what the future held for me, and what I was supposed to do about it. I just didn't have any dreams, and I wasn't sure how to figure them out.

Because of that, I decided to tackle some of the other tasks I had to first, just to clear my mind. Then I could come back to it with absolutely no distractions.

I glanced at my watch, realizing that it was a respectable time, before ringing Kimberly. She was my one ally, the one person I could trust to help me, and I needed to speak to her, to thank her, to apologize for being such a crappy person. I also needed to tell her that she'd been right all along and that I really should have listened to her sooner.

"Hello?" She answered, sounding groggier than I'd expected.

"Kimberly? Sorry, are you asleep?"

"Hold on." She whispered, before tiptoeing into another room. "Sorry, I'm at Nick's. Are you okay?"

"You're at Nicks?" I couldn't help but squeal like a silly school girl. Despite the deep pang of jealousy that sprung up into my stomach, I felt happy for her too. I was excited that she'd gotten all that wanted, she really did deserve it and Nick was perfect for her. "How's that going?"

"It's been good."

As she spoke about her developing relationship with Nick, I realized yet again how selfish I'd been. I'd depended so much on Kimberly, without ever asking about her, without even keeping tabs on her life. I'd known how much she liked Nick, and I hadn't helped her with that even once.

I'd been a shitty friend.

I refused to be that way anymore.

Instead of getting swamped in what I'd done wrong, I focused on what I would do to make it better, which was something of a revelation for me. It was a massive change from where my head was at not so long ago at any rate.

"That's such amazing news, I'm so happy for you." I gushed. Her and Nick were ideal for one another. I was glad that they could finally see that!

"So, erm..." There was a shift in her tone as she started to sound uncomfortable. "How did your visit home go?"

"Actually, pretty good." I smiled to myself. "I mean there were definitely some ups and downs, but overall I'm in a much better place."

I heard my friend let out a deep breath of relief. "Good I'm glad, so you're...?"

"I much better, just onwards and upwards now." We laughed for a few moments before I continued. "So, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, and thank you, and..."

"Honestly Lara, don't worry!" She hissed at me.

"That's what friends do." Friend.

She really was my friend, the best I'd ever had. But I couldn't get emotional about that. I had stuff I needed to do.

"So, shall I come over later?" Kimberly asked.

"Honestly, that's up to you," I replied. "I'd love to see you, but if you're too busy with Nick then I totally understand. You can come and see me in the week sometime if not, I'm really okay." And I meant it. I really was. "I have a lot to work on anyway."

"If you're sure..." I could tell that she felt bad, but I really didn't want her to.

"Just have fun will you!" I insisted. "Come and see me whenever you can."

As we hung up the phone, I sat down to make a list of absolutely everything. There was no holding back anymore, this was it. This was my real second chance, and I was going to grab it with both hands. Yes, I had a lot to do, and it certainly wasn't going to be an easy road ahead of me, but that would make it worth it.

Now that I'd made the choice to live, I needed to really do it.

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# TWENTY-FIVE

My apartment being cleaned was a really good start. It made my head much clearer, which meant that I could actually think. My checklist was a long arduous one, and it sure as hell felt good to finally cross something off of it. It was a positive step in the right direction, and that was something.

Then, I took the bull by the horns and I called my mum. I knew that was going to be a particularly difficult task to complete, but I couldn't let it go by any longer. I was a little shocked that she hadn't called me, but that just proved how pissed she was.

"Yes?" She answered sharply, the anger evident in her tone.

"I'm sorry," I replied instantly, feeling like a naughty chided child all over again. Mum didn't answer me, and her icy silence was loaded. "I had to go, mum." I pleaded, begging her to understand me. "I need to move forward, and I couldn't there. My life is here."

"I thought you might, I don't know, I guess I just assumed that you'd come back to stay permanently." She admitted, totally unexpectedly. I'd never shown any sign that I would want to go back there ever. "You just...you don't seem happy where you are."

"I will be," I promised. "I'm working on it."

"You could be happy here though..." She started, sounding more hopeful than I would like, forcing me to jump in.

"No, mum. There I'll always be associated with being sick. That's all I'll ever be to people." I heard her sigh, wanting to argue, but luckily, she seemed to think better of it. "Here, I've made my mistakes, but I can start again. It's not as...claustrophobic."

"What are you going to do?" She asked tentatively. "I want to help in some way."

"I'm not sure yet," I replied honestly. "I'm working on that."

"Okay." She sighed again, starting to sound increasingly exasperated. "Well, I do have something I can do for you. Me and Carter put some money aside to help you get a home here. How about I send it to you, to help get you started?"

"No, mum you don't have to..." I said, but my mind began whirring with possibilities. If I had something to keep me going, then I could really do something great.

"I want to sweetie." She continued. "I feel so helpless, please let me do this."

"Thank you." A massive lump had formed in my throat, making it difficult to speak, but I managed to get that much out. "I appreciate it."

"Of course."

I had my family, I had my friend, I had a future-- but what the hell was I going to do with it?

***

I spent the next few days really trying to figure that one out, but there was one distraction that kept cropping up, getting in my way. He was taking up so much of my brain space, that it was actually really difficult to focus.

Charlie.

He was the one problem that I really wanted to solve, but I had no idea how. I liked him so damn much, even now after all this time, and I wanted to make things right between us.

I knew it was unlikely that he would give me another shot, but with him out in the world somewhere, hating my guts, I wasn't sure if I could ever move on. If I could just view him as a failed experiment, as a step on my path to getting better, it might be easier, but I couldn't. I still longed for him, ached for him, I still wanted him to be mine.

Or at the very least, in my life.

So, I did something totally out of character, something really brave, I called him. I picked up my phone and dialed his number, trying desperately to ignore my thumping heart.

"Hello?" He answered on practically the first ring, not giving me nearly enough time to prepare myself.

"Oh, erm...hi." I stammered back, wishing that I'd planned out what I was going to say. Going in blind had been a stupid mistake! "It's...erm, it's Lara."

"Oh." He sounded glum like I was the last person on Earth that he wanted to hear from. That made my heart sink into my shoes. I hadn't expected the warmest reception in the world, but I thought he might be a little more pleased to hear from me. Sure, we'd left it on really bad terms, but was it really that awful?

"I just...I wanted to say that I'm sorry."

"What for?" He shot back, exploding all of the emotions that he'd clearly been keeping locked up for a very long time. "Calling me a slut? Telling me to chill out? Refusing to tell me anything about you."

I hadn't been expecting such an onslaught, and it totally took me aback. "I erm...all of it. It's complicated."

"I know." He snapped back sounding far harsher than I expected. "Too complicated to tell me about." I heard him take a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself. "I came back for you." If he thought I'd instantly know what he was on about, then he was very wrong. "That night." He clarified. "I waited outside for a while, for you to leave the pub so that I could speak to you."

My heart began hammering painfully against my chest. Was he saying what I thought he was? Could that explain why he so blatantly didn't want to speak to me? If so, I couldn't exactly blame him, I'd feel exactly the same way!

"But you didn't, so I started to walk home." He began to sound choked up as if this was painful to say. "Except, I felt bad, so I didn't quite get there. I

went back to find you, and you already had another guy wrapped around you."

In that moment, I wanted to ground to swallow me up whole. I should have left it, then I never would have known the horror that I inflicted. I began to feel dizzy with nausea, imagining his face seeing me there...like that.

"And you have the nerve to assume that I was experienced at the one-night stand?" He'd returned to snarky now, and I wanted to speak out, to defend myself, but there really wasn't anything I could say.

In that moment, it hit me how bad I'd fucked up, and how deep my feelings ran for Charlie. I'd kind of assumed that he might still be there when I was ready when I was hole again, but of course, I'd screwed up far too much for that.

I was suddenly overcome with the overwhelming desire to run away once more, to start afresh somewhere new. I needed to escape...

"And that wasn't the only time." He continued. "I saw you with another guy, a week or so later." What? I had no recollection of this at all. "I asked if you wanted my help, but you told me to fuck off." Nope, still no memory. God what a state! How could I have allowed all of that to happen? How had I allowed myself to fall so far? To get so drunk that I didn't even know what was going on around me?

Tears sparked in my eyes once more, but this time they were from rage--I'd never been so angry at myself in my entire life.

"I nearly died." I suddenly heard myself yelling. "I was ill, I was supposed to die. I don't know who I am or what I'm doing. I'm just...I'm a fucking mess." This silenced him. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting that. "I'm so sorry, sorry that you got caught up in all of my bullshit."

I started to move the phone away from my ear, to hang up and put an end to this thing that was clearly never going to happen, but just as I pulled it off me I heard him reply in a tiny voice. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," I sighed deeply, closing my eyes wishing that I could be talking about anything else in the entire world. "I had a rare form of cancer, and I was given six months to live. I'm not supposed to be here." In the spirit of honesty, I decided to spill it all. There was no point of holding anything back now, what more damage could I do? "When we slept together, I was a virgin, totally inexperienced with everything which is why I said what I did about...about you. Then, I guess I started to freak out, to lose everything about myself, and now...now I'm still not sure."

"I like you." He whispered as a reply. "I felt an intense spark from the very first time that I saw you." Somehow his words didn't fill me with a confidence. They felt more like a goodbye than a let's see where this goes. "That's why I slept with you. I've never had sex with someone as quickly as that, but it just felt so right."

"I'm..." I started, but he wasn't done talking.

"But seeing you, with all of those others...it just reminded me of my ex. She hurt me bad. She cheated on me, and I thought we were in love. You know all about that, I told you what happened. It just...it feels like my judgment is shit."

"But..." I wanted to defend myself, to promise him the world, but he wasn't having any of it.

"Maybe if we'd met at a different time in your life, or under other circumstances...we could have been something." No, no, no, I did not like where this was headed. "It's a shame, but..." He sounded like he was starting to cry, which just confirmed everything for me. "Have a nice life, Lara." He finished, before cutting me off forever.

I sat there for a while, in the same position, with the phone still pressed up against my ear, in utter shock.

It was done.

We were done.

I hadn't realized until that moment how much I was banking on things being okay, and now I had no idea what to do with the information that they weren't. I still had to move forward with my life, I knew that much. I couldn't allow all of this to hold me back, to ruin the progress I had made. But what was I going to do? I had no plans, no dreams, no idea where my future was headed...

But I did have that money.

An idea started to form, and although it felt a little like running away, I decided to view it as a break instead; a real time-out to work out what was next--one without parents, and therapy, and stress. I'd done all that I could here, I'd made up with who I could, and now it was time to focus on where my life was going...

And with a new sense of positivity, I picked up my laptop and started to do some research.

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# TWENTY-SIX

As I stepped onto the plane, I didn't look back. I knew there was a whole lot I was leaving behind-- Kimberly, my family who I was on slightly better terms with. And Charlie. I knew I was risking losing everything, especially him, and he might have just been perfect for me.

In fact, I was pretty convinced that he was.

But the timing was so, so wrong, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

Right now, I needed to get my head sorted out. I needed to work out where I was, who I was. I

needed to 'find myself'--whatever that meant. I didn't know who I was if not the 'dying girl' and I needed to figure that out or I would be stuck in a rut forever. Being here, among all the mistakes I'd made, just wasn't the place to do that.

I'd traveled before, but that was all about seeing all that I wanted to see before it was too late. This was going to be about taking time, really looking, really enjoying myself. If it took a month to do that, great! If it took three years and everyone else had forgotten about me, then I guess that would mean another clean slate to start again. I'd completely wrecked the first clean slate I had; maybe I would do better the second time around.

I sat in my seat, trying to keep my breathing steady. I didn't want the poor sucker that had to sit next to me to think I was a nervous flyer. This wasn't about that, this was excitement to escape. I'd surrounded myself in toxicity; I'd pushed away everyone that I cared about, fucked up all my positive, happy relationships. I'd been on a slippery slope ever since I found out that I was going to live, and since that was a fact that I couldn't change, it was time to do something about it.

I allowed all the memories of the mistakes I made to flick through my mind. After all, part of the healing process was going to be about accepting what I did, and where I went wrong. Owning my mistakes. I couldn't even begin to move on until I'd done that. If my therapy group had taught me one thing, it was that. But I wouldn't get stuck on all of my issues, I'd just accept them as a part of my past--in the way that Devon did. I would do all of that, then I would move on.

The engine rumbled beneath me. We were moving, finally.

'Thank you, Kimberly.' I muttered under my breath. She was the only one who'd stuck by me through thick and thin, who'd pushed me to do better, to move on, to take a chance. If it hadn't been for her, then I wouldn't have made it this far. I'd still be in a dive bar somewhere, looking for the next loser to show me some attention. She always told me that I was better than that, and maybe it was time for me to start listening to her. There were a million times when she could have blown me off since she owed me nothing, but she hadn't, and I was sure even this break wouldn't be enough to wreck our solid friendship.

The familiar nausea rushed through me as we rose, but it felt really positive. This time as I went up, it wasn't because it was my last few months alive. It was because I had a life, one that I needed to take into my own hands.

I couldn't wait to discover more of me. I really felt like I was using my mum and Carter's money wisely with this trip--not that she had completely agreed with me. I felt like I would come out of it with a better idea of what to do next. I intended to return with a dream to work towards, but even if that didn't happen I knew I'd be better off for it.

"Where are you going?" The friendly-looking elderly woman sat next to me asked.

"Italy, to start with." I smiled back, eager to get there now, to see what Rome and Venice had to offer me. I'd been looking at pictures online, and it looked amazing. I couldn't wait to see it all in real life. The Coliseum, the canals...it all looked so beautiful and I couldn't wait for it to inspire me.

"Ah." She grinned. "A finding yourself trip!" She laughed at her little joke and I couldn't help but join in.

"Something like that," I replied, before turning back to stare out of the window.

Exactly like that.

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# EPILOGUE

I'd never felt so relaxed as I did stretched out across the beautiful French beach. It wasn't just the hot sun or the gorgeous location, it was me. I was better now. I was whole once more, and that felt amazing.

As I traveled, I started to write--almost instinctually at first, simply for something to do when I was riding on public transport, getting from place-to-place. I wrote down absolutely everything from the diagnosis, to the almost-death, to completely fucking up my second chance at life. It was more therapeutic than anything else. Even more so than seeing the best parts of the world--although that backdrop certainly helped.

Now I knew who I was supposed to be.

It took nine months of seeing the sights to figure it all out, but I was getting there, and that was worth something.

I wanted to write, to publish books, to use my experience to help others. As my head had cleared, I started to realize that maybe I wasn't quite so alone in my troubles and that maybe I could make a difference to someone else, to stop them from going down the terrible path that I did. Maybe I would even do self-help courses or something. There was so much I could do--the world truly was my oyster--and now that I had a plan forming in my brain, I could really see the possibilities in the future that had seemed so endless and bleak before.

I'd kept in touch with people quite well, considering some of the remote locations that I'd been in. I emailed Kimberly regularly, I sent Facebook messages to Amy and Kai now and again, I'd even found time to ring my mum--who was finally beginning to understand me. On top of that, I'd been rebuilding bridges with some of my old friends. The ones from before. I'd even worked up the courage to email a real, heartfelt apology to Daphne. Just the once. She replied like a shot, giving me a much more positive and understanding reply than I'd been expecting, but I was just taking it all one day at a time. I wasn't pushing myself into something I wasn't ready for. If I was going to rebuild my relationship with her, it would be for good, and I needed to be prepared for what that meant, I would have to completely and utterly accept her and Bradley--especially now that they were husband and wife--no matter what, and I wanted to be in a place where I could truly do that first.

It had been a long road, and it certainly wasn't going to be easy from here either, but I was certain that it would be worth it in the end. I didn't think things will ever be as they were with Daphne--too much had happened for it to be exactly as it was-- but I was willing to work to get something back.

I intended to visit her, to speak to her face-to-face when I went back, which was actually going to be very soon. After all, Nick and Kimberly were getting married in a month and a half! A whirlwind romance maybe, but they just knew that they were right for one another, and they were willing to risk everything for each other. Something I found incredibly admirable.

"Hi." A familiar, sweet voice rang out, dragging my attention away from my notebook.

I pulled down my sunglasses, stunned.

It couldn't be, could it?

"Charlie?" I gasped in total and utter shock. It couldn't be Charlie, here in France. That made no sense whatsoever.

After we left things on such a sour note, I'd decided to leave him be, to allow him to move on-- however much that prospect hurt me. He didn't need a screw up like me, and he didn't need reminding of what we went through, what I put him through. So as much as I'd wanted to, I didn't contact him. Not even once.

I'd written and re-written emails but never sent them. And I'd thought about him a whole lot, but I tried to convince myself that he was a part of my past now, nothing more.

So how was he here?

And why did he look so sheepish?

"I'm sorry I'm here Lara, I just couldn't..." I sat up, growing increasingly curious. "Kimberly told me where you were--I've been bugging her a lot for information actually." He smiled shyly, causing my heart to melt like butter. That smile got to me every single time, and it seemed that time hadn't dulled that one bit. "I know we left things shit and I know you came to sort yourself out, but..."

"But...?" I asked, my heart pounding loudly.

"Look, I like you so much. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, however much I've tried. I might even love you--crazy as that sounds. If I don't love you already, then I'm definitely on my way." I couldn't breathe, this was all too much. "I understand why you did what you did now that I've had time to calm down. I haven't always behaved well myself, as you know, so I'm sorry that I reacted badly..."

"No..." I started, but he carried on.

"I don't expect anything from you, I just couldn't wait another day to tell you that when--and if-- you're ever ready, and you want to try things with me, I will wait."

I gulped, suddenly really afraid. I hadn't allowed myself to believe that this was even possible. I didn't want to admit to myself how deeply I felt for Charlie. Not anymore, I was trying to believe that I

was over him.

Now he was here. Now it was possible, and my emotions were all over the place at that prospect.

"I...I'm sorry." He took my silence for something else. "I'll go."

He turned to walk away from me, but I jumped up and grabbed his shoulders, spinning him back towards me. I pressed my lips up against his, feeling the sparks burst inside me once more. He'd always felt amazing, right for me. He was the one. I was sure of it--a thought that had terrified me in the past. Now though, I was ready to grab onto life with both hands.

I loved myself and I was ready to be loved.

I was no longer 'the dying girl', 'the virgin', 'the slut', 'the crazy girl'. I was just Lara. Lara with a long, exciting future ahead of her. One that would be filled with positivity and love.

Lara--ready to take on the world!

For more by Samie Sands, don't forget to check out the AM13 Outbreak Series:

Lockdown

Leah Watton's practical joke has spiraled way out of control--all to impress a crush. Now everyone thinks that zombies are coming...

Forgotten

Every attempt to contain the deadly AM13 virus has failed, leaving humanity on the brink of extinction. When it does, you don't want to be one of the forgotten...

Extinct

Writing books about the horrors of the zombie apocalypse is one thing--but Georgie Blake can't believe it has become her reality...

Not Dead Yet

The world is divided as everyone tries to work out how to survive.

And yet another romance-themed novel:

Lottie Loves

All these memories are dangerous. They're bringing my past back to ruin my future. And worst of all, they're taking me right back to him, my childhood sweetheart, my first love...my biggest regret.

Find out more at samiesands.com
