Being Blinded

Chapter Eight

Imogen and I don't talk about my confession in the days that pass since I crawled into her bed and finally admitted what I'm sure most people saw coming. I'm not exactly the most discrete when it comes to how I am feeling and just because I'm feeling differently about the situation, doesn't mean that the others didn't see this coming from a mile off.

Imogen might have heard it from my mouth, but I know Cassie would have asked, desperate to not fall back out of the loop she keeps wanting to know everything she missed. In learning all of that I doubt she has missed the fact that Alfie and I have managed to gravitate back together.

I don't think there is anything that goes on in this group that Sophie doesn't see, she might have missed the inevitability of her and Sam but that's the only thing I know has ever escaped her notice. Meshed with the fact that Claudie's new outlook on life and everyone's relationship has given her an observancy that she didn't have before, I have no doubt that Alfie and I's new attempt at being friends has been a topic of conversation on more than one occasion.

I used to worry constantly about people talking poorly about me behind my back, not because I didn't trust my friends or have faith in their love and care for me, but I was a mess. One more piece of bad news and I was liable to explode, like a kid having a tantrum, waiting for Sophie to come and console me from the mess of feelings that I had gotten myself into.

It was never intentional, hurting rarely is. That didn't make it consume me any less, squeezing and breaking until all my decisions circled around being different, fixing what must be wrong with me.

It's hard not to think that, until your brain starts screaming that someone else has it worse and the proof of that is plastered all through my life. It's stupid and comparing open wounds won't get either to stop bleeding but somehow, we find ourselves doing it anyway.

Claudie's shoulder is pressed up against mine, huddled together in the corner of the sofa as Hugo places an order for Fish and Chips. While everyone else continues their intense game of Cluedo, as it seems the three of us not playing aren't included for the best.

Me, because I can never manage to roll anything above a two and really have no chance at winning and Claudia and Hugo because their competitive streak never ends. Were currently on a month-long Monopoly ban, all of our friendships were under threat if we let ourselves continue playing.

Alfie's back faces us, if I stretched my legs out my feet would meet the firm expanse of his spine, but the secrecy of our little bubble keeps us huddled together instead. Foreheads practically slotted together, and if I could relay all my thoughts and feelings through telepathy then I would.

"So, essentially he used his belt to kind of loop through the wooden slacks of his headboard and cause it was twisted it kind of held me there" She details, for once in her life becoming capable of whispering and not alerting everyone else to the nefarious topic we have stumbled onto. "I find that even though the rest of my body is able to move, it keeps me restrained enough to quiet the part of my brain that wants to take control"

"See, that's the thing with me, I don't crave to take control even slightly. As much as I like watching a man come undone above me, I don't desire to give him any kind of instructions" I elaborate, "And yet, the restraining of my hands feels the same as you describe"

"But that's probably just in a different context, for me I love being an overly active participant and sometimes I forget to soak in the moment's so it's a good way to keep me focused on what's happening around and to me" Claudia nods, "Whereas you need the control break from your life, I swear the only person who thinks more than you is Imogen and to say you overtake Sophie is a big thing"