Alone.

10:24

Laughing with my friends.

Smiling with ny friends.

Lying - to my friends.

I stared at Jack Jacksons beautiful face. I had made a collage of all the pictures i had of him - but the others thought it was a joke. But it wasn't, not to me anyway.

I, Katcha Greyham, am utterly and completely, head over heels in love with Jack Jackson.

His face was my wallpaper, my lockscreen, i had it on my fricking mugs. I fall asleep each night, scrolling through his new selfies on facebook, wishing he could be mine.

We met in nursery, where we would play lego together for joy-filled hours. Andrea bearsick would sing for us at our pretend weddings, where the 'priest' dil howlter would marry us.

I clung to these moments in dark times, such as when he dated that chav lilo scat-joint. I hate her to this day. Bloody chav.

And, at 10:24, i got the call. Abandoning my pet pigeon, i pick up my phone without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello? Is this Katcha Graham?"

"Yes - well its greyham."

"You are listed as the emergency number for jack jackson-"

And what she said made my hurt skip a beat. I sunk to ny knees, my vision fading into black and white. Lacey Atitz grabbing my boobs as i fell in slow motion after a sort of cool swan dive as some attempt at support.

It kind of the worked though because shes kinda hot.

Vision fading further, darkness surrounded me and i couldn't breathe.

"Katcha, its an emergency, Jack, Jack has gone tropical."

So bloody dramatic.