The Pilot's Lover • Collins (Dunkirk)

Nineteen.

(Betty's POV)

A week.
It had been seven whole days and still no reply.
Not even a word, not even one tiny letter.

I hadn't slept in five days, the flashbacks and memories of the two of us, and the war, were too vivid; it felt like my heart was gone.
I had no feeling left anymore.

I was numb.

It was driving me crazy.

I'd finally come to the conclusion that he had forgotten about me and found someone new.

Maybe it's for the best.
I told myself.

There will be someone else.
I was meant to be assured by these thoughts;
Yet they scared me even more.
I didn't want there to be someone else.

I wanted him, I wanted Collins.
Nobody else, nobody compared to him.

A knock on my door woke me from my deep thoughts.

"Betty. Your father, Peter and I are going to the market. We'll be back in around two hours; will you be alright here by yourself?"
My mum questioned from outside my bedroom.

"Yes, I'll be fine"
I waved her off, wanting to be alone.

Slam.

Alone again.

I felt as though I was getting weaker by the second, I knew Collins was the only thing that kept me strong.
I was weak without him; exposed.

Anger flooded through my veins when I was reminded of the fact he no longer cared. Before I knew it I was waltzing through the house, knocking over anything in my path.

Books, glasses, picture frames , glass ornaments, you name it, crashed onto the floor.

Screeches of anger left my throat, sounding inhumane.

By now I couldn't stop, I was scraping off the wallpaper, knocking mirrors off the walls, smashing clocks.

I was out of control.

Soon enough the curtains were being ripped down, the armchairs were being flipped over and rugs were being thrown.

All the anger bubbled inside and didn't slow down.
Yet the fatigue protested against the anger and I began to subside down to the floor.
My back pressed against the front door, giving me a full view of the chaos I had just caused.

I picked up a shard of mirror and looked at my appearance.
Prominent bags hung heavily below my eyes, showing the days of sleep I had missed out on, fresh cuts oozed with blood on my cheeks and my hair was knotted; to say I looked horrendous would be an understatement.

"No, no, no, no"
I screamed as loud as my lungs could handle. My hands ran through my unbrushed hair in stress, making me look like some kind of lunatic.

"I need to leave, I need to go. I need to get away"
I sobbed to myself, belting upstairs grabbing my cardigan and few pennies I owned.

And without thinking of any consequences, I was out the door and headed to the train station.

I had no idea where I was going;
I just knew it had to be far.