Fast Car

He was nowhere to be seen when I was bleeding.

On Saturday she woke up with a migraine. The pain pulsing behind her eyes, the intense pressure, made her feel as if her skull would crack. She winced at the chunk of sunlight coming through her curtains, throwing a pillow over her head and attempting to ignore the waves of nausea that were making her stomach roll. Kat lay in bed most of the day, her hands over her eyes to try and block out the light that felt like it was burning her retinas. At first, her Dad was unimpressed, he suspected she'd been drinking, but when the day wore on and she didn't surface he took pity on her and brought her a cold flannel and some water. She was miserable. All she could do was lie there and replay the previous nights' events over and over in her head. She began to wonder if the nausea had been brought on by her own guilt, she felt awful. She was resigned to the fact that Shannon would likely never speak to her again, but she couldn't deal with getting the cold shoulder from the others too. She kept picturing Scott's face, the shock, and disappointment there. He'd never been disappointed in her before, he'd always loved her unconditionally, like a puppy. Sweet and loyal, and unchanging. He would hate her. So she lay there, tossing and turning, and sweating. Letting the situation replay; it always ended the same. Until she fell into a fitful sleep.

Some hours passed before her Dad brought her up a cup of tea, she blinked at the blurry red digits of the clock that read 9 pm. She couldn't tell if she'd really slept or not, consciousness and unconsciousness seemed the same now.

'How you feeling poppet?' Her Dad asked, sitting tentatively on the edge of the bed.

'Shit.' 

He raised an eyebrow at her language, but he didn't comment, just pressed his cool hand to her forehead. 'I'm worried about you.'

'I'm fine Daddy.' She said softly, trying her best to sound sincere. her father's brow furrowed as he looked down at her, he'd never been great at the gentle, emotional fatherly moments. Not that they didn't have a good relationship, it was just one where few words were exchanged. He stroked her hair once more and then moved to get up, mumbling about if she needed anything.

'Dad,' She said quietly before he reached the door, he turned to her expectantly. 'Before mum....did you?' the question trailed off, and he frowned at her for a second, they rarely spoke about her mum.

'I knew.' He said firmly, 'I could tell she wasn't happy here in the end.'

'But...'

'I couldn't have made her happy Katrina, it wasn't my job, it was hers.' He sighed. 'You can't change the way another person feels, you can only change the way you feel' 

Kat didn't reply, just smiled at him sadly as he left, leaving the bedroom door slightly ajar behind him.

On Sunday she cleaned. She felt a lot better, she was a little tired and there was still a dull ache on one side of her head, but she could move around. She felt a weird clawing sensation in her stomach whenever she thought about Shannon, or Scott, or Tyler, or the party, and her migraine threatened to come back when she thought about going to school on Monday. So she drowned out her thoughts by methodically cleaning the entire house. She scrubbed, hoovered, wiped, and washed with vigor. The tables, the oven, the fridge, the floor, everything was doused in cleaning fluid and scrubbed till it was sparkling. It soothed her to organize everything, clearing the house of clutter made her mind feel a little less jittery, it gave her something to focus on. She still hadn't turned her phone on since Friday night, it lay face down on her desk. She was stuck between wanting to know, and not wanting to deal with it. She wasn't sure if she could handle turning her phone on to find no-one had tried to contact her all weekend. That would really mean they all hated her. Her stomach twisted again, yet if they had wanted to talk to her she would probably know by now. Scott usually came by if she didn't reply to his texts within the hour. So where was he?