Chapter 58

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When the light broke through the tiny spaces either side of my drawn curtains, I mentally ticked off yet another night of interrupted sleep. My hands clutched at the empty space that had once been occupied by someone whose image was now painful to conjure in my mind. I sort of hated him for that.

The days had melted into each other, unsure if it was a workday. A quick glance at my phone screen confirmed that it was in fact, Saturday. I sighed, falling back into the mess of bedding I’d fought against during the night. I hoped the sleep I was ready to claw back into would be dreamless, somewhere I could escape him. But my mother had other ideas.

“Good morning.”

I groaned, attempting to bundle myself further into bed. Weight dipped the mattress, her hand resting on my duvet covered shoulder.

“Bo, come on. You promised me.”

Her tone was soft, but the sentiment strained. She was tired of me being holed up in my room, and I was tired of being there. On my own. I’d committed myself to at least one whole day of being clean and fully dressed.

“I brought you some tea.”

I peeked out from my hiding place, discovering there was in fact a steaming mug on my cluttered bedside table. I needed to tidy up.

“Thanks.”

I sat up, taking the rumpled covers with me. My mum remained like a paperweight, curbing my effort of pulling the duvet up and over my head. She knew my intentions were leaning towards burying myself and my problems.

“You should get up, it’s a bit cold, but the sun’s out.”

“And do what?” I snapped.

Her smile fractured with my unprovoked reply. I felt a pang of guilt as soon as the unkind words had left my lips. But she was my mum, she understood that despite the progress made, even something small could hit a raw nerve and we’d be spiralling back to days when I wouldn’t want to leave the four walls of my bedroom.

“I thought we could go shopping, or to that café in the park that you liked when you were little. Or if you don’t want to do that, we could take a drive and go for a walk somewhere.”

She was trying, desperately. But what use was a walk going to do? The fissure cracking my will was only getting deeper.

“I don’t know what to do.”

My mum’s smile was hopeful.

“Well, you don’t have to decide now, have some breakfast and we’ll…”

“No,” I shook my head, tears brimming. “Mum, I don’t know what to do.”

Understanding crashed down as I was taken in her arms. It was the same sort of hug I’d received after grazing my knees from falling off the roundabout in the park when I was six. The same comfort when she petted my hair. Although, now I would have preferred the hurt of a scraped knee in place of what I was presently feeling. I would take a round in the boxing ring if it could knock out the hopeless feeling nestled in my stomach.

“Oh, Bo,” She sadly cooed.

“I miss him.”

“And that’s ok. You don’t have to forget about Harry.”

She hushed me as I broke down into ugly sobs. I was probably ruining the shoulder of her blouse; jamming my nose into the crook of her neck so I didn’t have to face my responsibilities, or the fact that the only proper love life I’d ever had was a train-wreck. I couldn’t have stopped it if I tried, there were factors out of my control. Harry and I had both stumbled from the devastation with equally gruesome wounds.

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